#I’ll never let you out of my sight again!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toiletclown · 2 days

Text

breathless. (part six. finale.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

more fluff :,)

summary: six months after you decide to make it official, you both decide now is the time to start dropping hints.

a/n: this one was going to be part six and seven but i couldn't bare to drag it out much longer!! she's done! :D [ more serious a/n at the end ]

word count: 3187

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Six months later

It had been six months of bliss, and you were happy to report to anyone who asked that there was no end in sight. You and Spencer weren’t going to have a ‘honeymoon phase’, because you were so blatantly in love with each other it just wasn’t going to end. There was no getting complacent, no getting bored. You loved it.

However, you both agreed that it was time to start being little shits on camera and on social media. Ian and Anthony didn’t care, because realistically what you did on social media was never a big deal to them. You were both freelancing anyway, technically speaking. On camera, they just asked that you didn’t rile the fans up too, too much.

Amanda was on vacation, and Shayne asked if you both wanted to be the special guests on an upcoming Smosh Mouth while she was out. This was the perfect start to your plan.

“Hello, I’m Shayne and welcome back to Smosh Mouth. Today I have two of the most troublesome Smosh members with me, since Amanda is still on vacation. How are you doing today, guys?” Shayne introduced the both of you.

“Troublesome? I don’t know about all that, Shayne. I’m doing good, though! How are you, Shayne?” You started.

“Yeah –” Spencer began, but you cut him off.

“No, I didn’t ask you, I asked Shayne. You can wait your turn, Spence.” Your feet were touching under the table, a silent game of footsie like you were in middle school again. And if it was making your heart and stomach do flips so loudly you thought it would catch on the mic, that’s for you to know and the fans to eventually find out.

“Damn, Y/N,” Shayne said between laughs. Spencer was playing along with your bit and waiting his turn, so Shayne continued on. “I’m doing pretty good today, Y/N. I must say, you’ve trained Spencer so well. He never listens when we tell him to shut up.”

“Hey!” Spencer erupted into laughter, so of course you followed.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” You said, ruffling his hair and making it arguably sexier.

“Don’t.” He choked out, but he was still playing footsie with you. You still knew you were getting in trouble for that one later.

“Okay, so, how are you, Spinner?” You asked, head cocked to the side.

He was blushing beautifully, and you really, really hoped that was picking up on camera. You loved making him blush, but seeing it on camera always made it even better. You might even have a few screen recordings in your hidden folder of times you made him blush on set. But he doesn’t need to know that. (He has a similar folder, but not even hidden. You’ve seen it several times. It has over 100 clips in it.)

“Well, I’m –” You cut him off again.

“Oh, Shayne, you said you wanted to do album tier lists today, right?”

“Y/N!” Spencer whined, not entirely on purpose.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk please?” He asked, left hand reaching for your right under the table, his way of silently asking you to pull back.

“Sure, Spin. Go off, king, speak your truth.” You smiled widely at him, knowing what he was going to say.

He rolled his eyes at you, lovingly, and let your hand go so he could gesture while he spoke. “Anyway! I’m doing good today too, Shayne. I got some pretty sick news this weekend.”

You played up your surprise for the camera. Eyes wide, you asked, “Oh?”

Shayne also knew, because of course he did, but you let him ask anyway, “Yeah? What’s up, man?”

“I finally found a bigger apartment and I’ll be moving in in about a month,” Spencer started, “It’s closer to the office and right around the corner from one of my favorite coffee shops. I’m pretty stoked, honestly.”

That was your favorite coffee shop first, but now he loved it just as much as you did. Mainly because you took him there on one of your first dates, and now he insisted on getting coffee there at least once a week.

In his defense, their lattes were incredible. And their cinnamon buns.

“Oh, sick, dude! More room for your cats, too.” Shayne knew that you were also moving in, hence the ‘bigger apartment’, but you and Spencer both agreed that should be kept under wraps for now. You were giving the fans little crumbs of the gigantic sourdough loaf that was your love.

“Yeah, they’re more excited than I am! Oh, ouch,” Spencer yelped at the end, and forced himself to cover up the fact that you had just playfully kicked his shin. Little shit, I didn’t even kick him that hard.

“Sorry, I kicked the table by accident, which is genuinely the first time that has ever happened.”

Shayne was doing his best to hide his giggles, but he was failing massively. “How many times have you sat at this table, Spencer? That’s crazy, I have never done that.”

You were so thankful Shayne loves to ‘yes, and’ shit because he was making this so much easier. And funnier.

Spencer tried to glare at him, but he was laughing too, so he looked entirely unserious. “I do not know how I managed to do that, to be quite honest.”

“Album tier list though?” You asked, excited to talk about music.

You and Spencer had extremely similar tastes, but Shayne was still ‘discovering music’ so he didn’t know a few of the albums you mentioned. Spencer agreed with all of your choices but one. You ranked the Blue Album by Weezer at an A tier instead of an S (which was done simply to rile him up, and it worked).

After you had all gone through your little TierMaker lists and agreed upon the ending rankings (yes, you moved the Blue Album to S), Spencer decided to throw a wrench in everyone’s plans.

“Oh, Peach, when we get back to the apartment we have to call maintenance again,” He said casually, while you were supposed to be getting ready for the next segment. “Shit, can you make sure someone cuts that?” He turned to Alex, who gave back a thumbs up.

“Wait, no, keep it in. Cut this though,” you laughed, deciding to play into it, “If we keep it in, they’ll all assume we have a place together. Then we can go to Twitter to ‘clarify’ that I was just coming to your place to work on a Games video. Give them crumbs, yes, but we can maybe drop a crouton here and there.” You smiled, proud of your improv skills showing their face.

“You two are diabolical, the actual reveal is going to be April First all over again,” Shayne said, a genuine smile on his face.

You returned it tenfold, so lucky to have such loving and supportive coworkers who doubled as friends. “I don’t think we will ever reach April First heights, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

Spencer sat up, suddenly locked in, “Wait, Alex?”

“Yeah?” They called from behind the monitors.

“Cut that, but keep the footage. We can use it later. You can just send it to me after?”

“I’ll let Rock know!” Alex replied, excitement in their voice.

“Demons, both of you!” Shayne was in a fit of laughter, again. It felt so good being able to make your friends smile so easily.

The next week, the Smosh Mouth episode drops. Normally there’s a two-to-three week turnaround for the SmoshCast videos, but since you and Spencer had begun dropping hints in videos, the viewership on videos with both of you in it had skyrocketed. You were both thoroughly surprised (and pleased) that your plan was going so well.

You both had a notes app check-list in your phone of silly bits to pull. So far, you had checked off: hugging more than three times in one video (Challenge Pit); you blowing Spencer a kiss (TNTL); Spencer blowing you a kiss (background of a Bit City ad-sketch); the entire Smosh Mouth episode, basically; shadow boxing, then pretending you were going to make out (Bit City); more romantic compliments, even more romantic bullying (Dread, Smosh Mouth, Culinary Crimes).

Next up, a Twitter crumb.

Once the link to the episode was tweeted, Spencer quote tweeted it: “y/n thinks their the coolest person ever”

He deleted, then tried again: “y/n thinks they're the coolest person ever”

And then, you simply tweeted a screenshot of the lyrics to Slim Pickins by Sabrina Carpenter: “This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are.”

This was perfect, because in a matter of moments everyone was talking about the next line of that song. “Yet he’s naked in my room.”

After the Twitter Crumb, you both decided to slow down on the hints. This backfired, however, when everyone then thought you were fighting. You went back to being mostly normal, which was still physical and affectionate, but now the fans were so used to the new levels of it that they went 0 to 60 on “oh my god are y/n and spencer fighting what happened btwn them :(“

Angela stopped you at lunch to let you know. You were halfway through a burrito bowl, sad to have to stop. “Hey, Y/N? Have you looked at the comments on videos lately?”

You wiped your mouth and made sure you were finished chewing before responding, which took longer than you wanted it to. You had just taken a fairly large bite when she rounded the corner. “No, why? Is everything okay?”

“Well, everyone thinks you and Spence are fighting,” she snickered, sitting down and taking a sip of her drink.

“Fighting? Why, because I’m not calling him a good boy on camera anymore?” You laughed, then lowered your voice, “He won't let me anyway, he said he got ‘dangerously’ hard.”

Angela choked a bit at that, fully used to you and Spencer being overly vulgar, but not in regards to each other.

“Oh! Okay! Well, I’m gonna go find Chanse so I can throw up with him about that! Bye!” And she was gone.

“It’s the truth,” you whispered to no one, before getting back to your food.

After a month of going back to ‘normal’ you decided to stop torturing everyone. You decided since the last Sabrina stunt sent fans into a tizzy, you posted a photo of you and Spencer building legos together. Then two hours later, you posted ‘Juno’ to your story, specifically the part where she sings “Adore me / hold me and explore me / I’m so fucking horny / Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one”.

Yeah, that did the trick. Ian and Anthony did give you a light reprimanding for that one, considering the firestorm that happened on Twitter, Reddit, and your Instagram comments. Whoops?

You decided to talk to Spencer afterwards, to see what his timeline on this was. If you were being honest, you were ready to kill the charade at this point. For one thing, your one year anniversary was five months away, and you weren’t sure you could even last that long. But also, while Spencer was definitely enjoying the game you two had built, he had never wanted to hide you. And maybe that was an enticing concept.

“Hey, baby?” You called, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder.

“Hey, honey, what's up?” He slid his headphones off and grabbed your hand. Some things never change, huh?

You kissed his forehead, grabbing a chair and sitting with him. “I was wondering. It’s still a little far away, if I’m being honest, but our one year anniversary is soon. Did you want to maybe do the reveal that day?”

He was blushing again, and you would never get tired of that. He was still blushing at you like he was two, four, six, eight years ago. “I think I’d like that.”

“Okay! I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you more, Peach.”

Five months later, your one year anniversary ♡

Spencer had had Ian pull some strings and rent out Buca Di Beppo for your anniversary. Normally, Smosh rented one out for VidCon, but they were doing Smosh Summer Games again this year, and decided to not do VidCon this time around. So they rented it out just for you and Spencer.

Your life had changed so much over the course of a year, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it all. You were in such a better place now than you were then. In so many ways, financially, mentally, physically, romantically, sexually.

Spencer was the best partner you had ever had, by a fucking long shot. Honestly, in your youth you picked pretty bad ones. Repeatedly. You only had one serious relationship as an adult, and you were locked in for good on your second one. Well, in your opinion, you were locked in for good.

Spencer hadn’t proposed yet, which was fine. Your birthday was coming up, so you were really hoping he would pop the question then. Whenever you ranted to Ang about this, she would promptly remind you how young your actual relationship is. Amanda, however, encouraged you fully. She had always wanted you two to date, so you getting married would send her into orbit.

Arasha also wanted him to ask you. She had actually started pestering you about your dream ring, your ring size, along with your dream venue and outfit. Chanse had taken you to brunch a few times to ask how the “Plan with a Capital P” was going, because he refused to be serious about it. You kind of liked that, though, because it took some pressure off.

Because you did want it. Badly. Angela, Tommy, and Damien thought you should wait. Chanse, Amanda, and Arasha thought it was time. Courtney and Shayne refused to take sides, same with Ian and Anthony. Typical couples.

The crew had also decided not to weigh in, minus Erin, Kiana, and Alex. Who were all on your side, for the record.

And what side was Spencer on?

Well, he wasn't on anyone’s side.

He was on one knee, in Buca di Beppo of all places, proposing to you.

And you fucking loved it.

“What, did you seriously expect us to have a serious proposal? We’re too funny for boring proposals.”

You were doing a Q&A Smosh Mouth episode about your relationship. After he proposed, and got some gorgeous candids taken by Courtney, you both hard launched on Instagram (and Twitter, and Reddit, and Tumblr. So on and so forth. It really was April First again.)

“Yeah, but Buca?” Shayne was laughing his ass off again, as he did every time either of you told the story to someone. “I mean, it’s a sacred place to us here at Smosh. I get it, I do. It’s just so fucking funny.” Back to his laughter fit.

“I mean, I still remember the first Buca trip I went on with Smosh. I actually sat next to Spence, and I didn't like the pasta I ordered. He gave me his.” You smiled fondly to yourself, feeling sentimental. It was one of your favorite memories. “It’s one of the first times I remember thinking, like, fuck, I like this dude a whole lot. And he’s my best friend. And, like, out of my league.”

“Whoa, what?” Spencer asked, eyes wide. “Me?”

“Yeah?” You blinked at him, confused.

“No, dude, you're way out of my league, what the fuck are you talking about? Shayne, what the fuck is Y/N talking about?”

Shayne threw his hands up in surrender, entirely not speaking on this.

“Are we having our first fight on Smosh Mouth right now?” Spencer asked, rubbing his thumb on your hand, which had been laced with his under the table the whole time. He was making a joke, and wanted to make sure you knew he wasn't serious. What a fucking angel.

“It seems so because I think you were out of my league, one hundred percent. But let’s agree to disagree and move on, okay?” You decided not to really ‘yes, and’ that one.

Shayne jumped in, eager to change the topic, even though he knows you two are joking. “Well, the reactions have been stellar. You really pulled it off so well, especially by posting that ‘blooper reel’ of all the times you both messed up on camera!”

You had secretly been a little worried people would be upset. Amanda and Angela assured you anyone who was upset wasn't a real fan. Which was fair.

Speaking of Angela, you came to find out in the following month that everyone ‘taking sides’ was actually just moving parts in a huge Rube Goldberg machine of a proposal plan by Spencer.

Your fiancé. God, it was still crazy to think about.

But while you ran around trying to get people on your side, everyone had already been given guidelines by Spencer on how to react. And Arasha and Angela were his number one operatives.

Angela, your best friend, seemingly not on your side about wanting to get married, planting a seed of doubt in your mind.

(Spencer apologized for the mind games that everyone played, but it all ended so perfectly that you couldn’t stay mad at anyone. Angela would be walking you down the aisle.)

Arasha, your number one wedding supporter, asking wedding-related questions, then feeding the info back to Spencer.

(He had your dream ring handcrafted. Your dream venue was already booked. You weren’t going to say no, anyway. Arasha was helping with planning.)

Damien and Tommy siding with Angela. Damien, a romantic at heart. And Tommy, one of Spencer’s closest friends.

(Damien was in charge of misdirecting you around the office, Tommy is going to be the officiant at your wedding.)

Amanda and Chanse siding with you. Encouraging you that everything was going to be okay, whether he proposed or not.

(Amanda is the ringbearer, Chanse is in charge of music, thank god.)

Courtney, Shayne, Ian, and Anthony not taking sides at all, showing you partners shouldn't take sides.

(And they did. And do. And so do you. But they did remind you to be more mature about it.)

You were marrying Spencer. Your Spencer. Spinner. Spence. Fucking Charles. After nearly ten years, you were finally marrying the dude you fell for the moment you met his eyes in that office lobby. When he shook your hand, there were sparks. You both knew from that moment it was over.

And yet it still took so long. And even despite that, you’d do it all again, because it leads to Spencer. The road might have been bumpy, and the weather wasn't always sunny, and you might have broken down a few times along the way, but it led to Spencer. And you’d drive, run, walk, skip, hop on one leg the whole way down that road, as long as he was on the other side.

And now, he would be.

Always, and forever.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

real author's note time!!

wowie, this has been such a word of labor, love, and obsession. this fic finally pulled me out of my months (almost years) long block, because for once i wrote more than 6k, but i also finished it!!!!! it's been quite a long time since i've finished a fic. next up is the angela x reader anon requested, but i can't promise a time window for that one. i hope you have all enjoyed this fic as much as i have, i'm quite proud of it and of myself. whether you follow me or not, thank you for reading and engaging with my fic. you're the best <3

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #richie writes #breathless series

75 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 days

Text

Breakfast for sweethearts

Summary: You only want to have a good time.

Pairing: Jax Teller x Short!Reader

Warnings: angst, bitchy people, fluff, protective Jax

Follow-up to this blurb: Blurb

Looking around the busy diner, you sigh. Your date is ten minutes late, and you are getting antsy. While you sip your tea, hoping he won’t stand you up, someone watches you angrily.

“Miss, could you hurry up and drink out your tea?” A girl asks. She’s dressed to impress, with too much make-up and a dress short enough to leave nothing to anyone’s imagination if she bends over.

You don’t mind. Sometimes you envy girls like her. They are brave enough to wear something you’d never dare to even dream of.

“Why?” You ask, wondering why she wants you to finish your tea. She’s not working at the diner, and you’re not slurping.

“My boyfriend and I want your table. We’ve been waiting for a free table for half an hour,” she snaps at you. “You can’t block a whole table to slurp tea.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t believe she’s yelling at you for drinking tea at a diner. “I’m waiting for someone. You can’t have the table.”

“Listen, Missy,” her boyfriend steps next to her to glare at you. He snatches the cup out of your hands and empties it on the floor. “Now you are done. Make space.”

You feel like someone pulled the rug out from under your feet. It’s the first time you’re completely and utterly speechless.

“Get up and leave,” the girl snarls. She snaps her fingers in your face. You are about to get up and just leave when someone behind them clears his throat.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jax watches you shrink into yourself. You look like you’re about to cry as the girl and her boyfriend turn around.

“Listen, buddy, stay out of—” the boy chokes on his words, facing a furious Jax. Everyone in town knows the Sons of Anarchy, and everyone stays out of their way. “Uh, she wanted to leave. So if you want the table.” He splutters.

“I don't think she wanted to leave.” Jax narrows his eyes at the boy. “She’s waiting for me.” The girl whimpers when Jax sizes her up. “I think you harassed my girl.” He says, nodding to himself. “What do you think I should do with someone harassing her?”

“Nothing, sir,” they stammer. “We didn’t…we wouldn’t.”

Jax puffs on his cigarette. He looks at the boy, and then the girl.

“Jax,” you murmur his name. It’s all too much. You don't want him to make a scene.

“I’ll be right there for you, Y/N,” he blows smoke in their faces, smirking darkly when they cough. “I give you ten seconds, and then you are out of my sight. But first, you’ll apologize to my girl.”

“Sorry, we are sorry.” They stammer before running off faster than you can blink.

"Now, I'm all yours."

“You’re late,” you say, watching Jax sit next to you.

“You’re cute,” he says and dips his head to look you in the eyes. “I assume the tea must be bad if they pour it on the floor. How about I invite you for breakfast at my place? I cleaned only for you, promised.”

“You smoked again too,” you tut. “I told you it’s bad for your health.”

“I drove too fast to get here,” he chuckles, watching your face contort in anger. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Sir, I’ll keep a close eye on you from now on,” you mutter under your breath. “I can’t let you drive too fast or smoke all the time. Last week, you were coughing at the grocery store.”

“You watched me?” Jax grins. “That’s very nice of you.”

“I’m nice,” you nod. “Now, let’s go to your home. Maybe I can help you with breakfast. I bet you only have unhealthy food at home.”

Jax slides out of the booth, holding out his hand. “How about you tell me about all the bad things I do?” He looks down at you, smirking again. “I love it when you care for me.”

Tags in reblog.

#Breakfast for sweethearts #jax teller #jax teller x short!reader #short reader #jax teller x you #jax teller x y/n #jax teller x female reader #sons of anarchy

76 notes · View notes

whalesforhands · 1 day

Note

small drabble of mc tagging on a mission w megumi?? is megumi still a mamas boy even in his first year or does he treat mc js like he treats satoru and suguru?

YIPPEE I HAVENT HAD AN OPPORTUNITY TO WRITE SMTHG LIKE THIS IN A BIT

“Did you all bring your bags? Do you need lunch? Oh, please keep the Jujutsu Tech uniforms on at all times, it’s supposed to be made out of special material resistant against—“

“Maaaa! We know!” Nanako’s pouting at you, flicking a strand of her blonde hair back as she huffs, trying to fix her bangs as the charms upon her smartphone jingle. “We’re not kids anymore!”

“But you’ll always be my children.” Your arms hug all of them impossibly tighter, squeezing around your teenaged children that you swore were barely up to your waist only just a while back…

Yet, they all shot up, with towering heights and healthy physiques paired with the vitality only spry young teenagers could have.

(You have to give yourself credit for raising them so well. Was it Suguru’s cooking that made them grow up so fast?)

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Megumi’s clearly embarrassed, eyebrows furrowed, and averting gaze despite the reddened tips of his ears as he lets you squeeze him and his sisters to your chest. “We’re gonna be fine.”

(He’s so glad that you’re doing this at home and not out in public…)

“It may be our first mission, but we’ve followed Papa and Dad long enough…” Mimiko’s voice is always soft, collected. Always trailing upon the same tone even when you finally let go to let her breathe properly once more, even when you pat down stray strands of her hair— And ruffle it again out of nervousness.

(Teenagers are so hard to figure out. How are they so calm? It’s their first mission!)

“It’s different from the ones you follow your fathers on, kids.” You’re sighing again as you recall the report sheet of the site, hand subconsciously rubbing and messing with someone’s hair as Nanako’s squeaks of complaints fall on deaf ears.

“How about this one?” Gojo Satoru has you on his lap, a hand on the small of your back and the other dangling another sheet of paper before your tired eyes, letting you scan through the nth Curse sighting— Of Grade 3 and below only, of course. “Not too difficult, piece of cake fodder, ya know?”

“Disappearances of 2 kids, Satoru. It might be easy to you, so I’ll take this mission on instead—“

“Ah, ah.” He tuts you, a waggling finger placed upon your lips and hushing you. “No refuting me! We had an agreement that if ya disagreed by the 5th one, I get full control.” His smile makes you uneasy as your bet dawns upon you.

“Plus, dear,” He brings you close, his whisper in your ear doing its best to try and soothe your still panicked state despite the blindfold upon his face. “There’s nothing to worry about if I’m the one chaperoning!”

(“…that’s the part I’m worried about.”

“Hmph! Have you no faith in your strongest husband? I’ll have you know that I have been chaperoning tons of these kids! And with only mild complaints and near death experiences—“ You let him trail off, patting his cheek as he continues on, and on and on— Until you briefly kiss him to stop him in his tracks, lest he went on a tangent about… Washing machines?)

They grow up so fast. You could swear it was only moments ago when you had a Megumi that needed help tying his shoes, a Nanako who always begged both yourself and your husbands to sit down for a makeover, a Mimiko who trailed after you wherever you went— And a Tsumiki who never wanted to let go of your hand.

Time really flies when you’re standing at the genkan, nervously fretting over their bags, giving their Jujutsu Tech uniforms several once overs, and watching your front door open as they slowly start to leave.

“We’ll be back for dinner, if you’re so worried.” Megumi’s quiet, almost muttering under his breath as he grumbles about his assurance to you, blue eyes averted away out of shy bashfulness.

“Gumi’s got a point, Mama! We’re gonna be back in one piece in no time! It’s a 3v1 sesh’ afterall!”

“Mhm.”

Ah, your kids really have grown up.

nvy’s aftertalk:

no i’m not back yet and my tests are in the following weeks so i’ve been studying like a madman hehe. (i hope whichever professor started the trend of surprise quizzes with weightages every week is only ever able to find one sock)

to all of u affected by the hurricane, stay safe!!!!

#dyf au #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader

69 notes · View notes

thedensworld · 6 hours

Text

Logical Project | C.Sc

Genre: fluff, humour, backstreet au

Summary: Illogical project dismissed! Now, Seungcheol had to face a new problem, Jiyeon and Jeonghan.

Read the first part here

Tomorrow is my first day working at a new place! Wish me luck (and won't get any treatment like Y/n)

“That’s it?” Seungcheol’s voice cut through the silence, snapping you out of the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head. You blinked up at him, taken aback by the question. That’s it? What else was there to say when someone just confessed their feelings out of nowhere?

Do a cartwheel?

Definitely not.

“Do you… want to come inside?” The words slipped out before you could stop yourself.

Wait, what? Panic flared in your chest. You mentally slapped yourself. Why did you say that? You glanced back at your apartment, suddenly remembering the chaotic mess you’d left behind. The dishes were still piled up in the sink, and cooking equipment was strewn across the kitchen counter from your failed attempt to make breakfast earlier. The last thing Seungcheol needed to see after baring his soul was the state of your post-breakdown kitchen.

“I—I mean,” you stammered, desperate to recover from your blunder. “We could go to a nearby café instead… Or—if you’re more comfortable—we can talk in my… living room?” You cringed inwardly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized you’d just invited him inside again. Twice. As if you were trying to send some sort of signal.

Get it together, Y/N.

“Sure,” Seungcheol replied with a casual nod, as if you hadn’t just awkwardly fumbled your way through an invitation to your personal space. He didn’t look the least bit phased by your internal meltdown.

“Uh—great!” You cleared your throat, feeling your face flush. What kind of person invites their boss—well, former boss—into their messy apartment right after he drops a confession like that?

You spun around and led the way back into the building, too afraid to turn around and see the expression on his face. You could only imagine what he must be thinking. Maybe he was silently judging the disarray of your life, or worse—contemplating running for the hills before he got dragged into your chaos.

Is this really okay? you wondered as you fumbled with your keys, forcing yourself to unlock the door to your apartment. When the door swung open, you hesitated, peering into the living room as if expecting to find an even bigger mess than you remembered.

“So… I didn’t exactly get around to cleaning up,” you mumbled as a way of apology. Seungcheol stepped in beside you, taking in the sight of scattered notebooks and the remnants of an unfinished dinner on the coffee table.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his tone light, as if you’d just invited him into a pristine penthouse suite instead of an apartment that looked like a mild hurricane had swept through. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

You scoffed softly, shaking your head. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure even the couch is giving me a look of judgment right now.”

He chuckled—a deep, genuine sound that took you by surprise. “Well, if the couch starts talking, then I’ll be worried.”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it, and you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. This entire situation was surreal. Here you were, standing in your barely-presentable living room with the Choi Seungcheol, exchanging banter like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Let’s just… sit,” you suggested weakly, gesturing to the slightly cluttered couch.

You both settled down, the cushions sinking under the weight of unspoken words. Seungcheol leaned back, glancing around your place before his gaze landed on you.

“So… what now?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the intensity in his gaze. “I don’t know,” you murmured honestly. “I didn’t really… expect any of this.”

Seungcheol smiled slightly, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his expression. “Me neither.”

You both lapsed into silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. The awkwardness from earlier hadn’t entirely disappeared, but now there was something else—something tentative and hopeful—hovering between you.

No, maybe inviting him in wasn't a good idea after all.

Your clothes were neatly pressed, your hair smelled faintly of some overpriced conditioner that probably didn’t work any better than regular shampoo, and your smile? Absolutely radiant. You practically glowed as you approached the front entrance of the towering office building.

This was it. You were back in the workforce, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to ruin your mood today.

You swiped your shiny new ID card through the scanner and watched the security gate slide open with a satisfying click. Ah, that sound.

You flashed the security guard a broad smile, even though he looked slightly alarmed by your level of enthusiasm so early in the morning. With a cheerful nod, you made your way to the elevator and squeezed inside with the rush-hour crowd.

As more people piled in, you found yourself gradually nudged to the back of the elevator, squished up against the corner like a sardine in a tin can. You stood there, beaming, as someone’s elbow jabbed into your side, and another person’s backpack thumped against your shoulder.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself. I’m working again! I have a job! I have an income!

The elevator finally reached your floor, and you stepped out with a polite nod to everyone else crammed in the space. Walking into the office with your head held high, you approached the reception area and introduced yourself.

“Everyone, please meet Ji Y/N,” Mr. Kim, your supervisor, motioning toward you with a grand flourish that felt a bit too theatrical. “She’ll be joining us as the new staff.”

You turned to the team, offering them your best smile and a small wave. A few people returned the gesture, while others exchanged knowing looks.

“It’s nice to meet you all. I’m excited to work with everyone,” you said brightly, trying not to sound too eager. But for some reason, the room was oddly quiet.

Just then, Mr. Kim cleared his throat and continued, “Oh, and, uh, a quick note: I think it’s fair to mention that Ms. Ji is… well, she’s related to our CEO.”

A murmur of recognition rippled through the group, and you suddenly found yourself at the center of what felt like a mini gossip fest.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, you chanted internally, feeling your earlier excitement waver. You blinked at Mr. Kim, a polite, confused smile plastered on your face as you struggled to process what he’d just said.

“Related?” someone whispered. “Isn’t that a bit of an understatement?”

“She’s the CEO’s sister,” another voice added helpfully.

Well, that’s one way to let the cat out of the bag.

You forced a laugh, though it sounded more like a strangled cough. “Yes, well… It’s not really—”

But the damage was done. The team’s expressions shifted from curious to knowing, and a few eyebrows arched in interest.

“So, you’re our boss’s little sister, huh?” one of them asked, his tone light but laced with something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Must be nice to have connections,” someone else muttered, though it was low enough that you could pretend not to hear it.

You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound defensive or self-deprecating.

“Um, yeah,” you managed awkwardly, shooting a glance at Mr. Kim, who looked like he was one second away from shrinking into the carpet. “I just… I’m really looking forward to contributing and learning, and—”

“—and working for your brother?” another voice teased, and you nearly groaned out loud.

You swallowed hard, keeping that tight smile in place as you nodded. “Exactly! Working… like, all of you. Just… like you all are.”

Mr. Kim let out a nervous chuckle. “Alright, everyone. Let’s welcome Ms. Ji and give her some space to settle in. I’m sure she’s eager to get started.”

As you turned to follow Mr. Kim to your desk, you tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment. You took a deep breath, pasting your earlier smile back on. So what if they know? It doesn’t matter! You’re here to work, and that’s what matters!

You stepped out of the office building with a small sigh of relief. It had been a long day—no, scratch that—an agonizingly long day of trying to prove yourself to people who were convinced you were only there because of your brother.

Your gaze landed on the sleek black car parked discreetly at the end of the street. The sight of it made you smile, if only for a moment, before you quickened your pace and slipped into the passenger seat.

As soon as the door closed, you sank back into the leather seat, letting out a dramatic sigh. Seungcheol glanced over from the driver’s seat, his expression a mix of amusement and concern as he watched you pout.

“You look absolutely exhausted,” he remarked softly. His eyes traced your features—the drooping eyelids, the slight frown, the way your lips were pressed into a tight line. All in stark contrast to the cheerful, lively voice note you’d sent him that morning, declaring how excited you were for your first official day on the job.

“Drive before my brother sees your car.” Your voice came out grumbly, the weariness apparent as you glanced around.

Seungcheol chuckled softly. “Alright, princess,” he murmured, a small, affectionate smile playing on his lips as he turned the ignition.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as he pulled out into the street, the soft hum of the car filling the silence between you.

“Bad day?” he asked gently, not pushing, just offering you a chance to vent if you needed to.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest like a sulking child. “More like an ‘everybody’s-still-staring-at-me-like-I’m-a-spoiled-brat-who-got-hired-because-of-my-brother’ day.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow,“I’m sure you did great,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You always do.”

You gave him a sideways glance, your lips twitching slightly. “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. CEO. You don’t have to deal with your brother’s employees eyeing you like you’re about to break into a spoiled tantrum every time you say something.”

He let out a low laugh, the sound wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. “True, but I do know how hard you work, Y/N. You don’t need to prove yourself to them. They’ll see it eventually.”

His confidence in you was touching, but it only made you sigh. “Yeah, well, it’d be a lot easier if a certain someone hadn’t barged into the office, grinning like a Cheshire cat and announcing to everyone that I was his precious little sister.”

Seungcheol’s grin widened as he glanced at you again. “Jeonghan really said that?”

“Basically, yes,” you muttered, the memory of your brother’s teasing smile flashing through your mind. “He might as well have held up a giant banner saying, ‘She’s here because of me, everyone!’”

Seungcheol snickered, shaking his head slightly. “Your brother does have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Understatement of the century,” you grumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips now.

Silence settled between you, a comfortable one this time. The kind that only came when you were with someone who knew you well enough not to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter.

It had been like this between you and Seungcheol ever since he’d shown up at your apartment that night and confessed—awkward and unexpected, but somehow, so undeniably right. From there, things had developed naturally. Texts became calls, calls became late-night coffee runs, and soon, he was sneaking you out for lunches and dinners, or showing up at your place just to talk.

But your brother? He still had no idea. And considering how protective Jeonghan was, he’d probably lock you in a tower if he knew you were dating his best friend.

“What are you thinking about?” Seungcheol’s voice broke through your thoughts, his eyes glancing at you with that familiar, gentle look that always made your heart flutter.

“Just… us,” you admitted quietly, resting your head against the seat as you looked at him. “I like this. Being with you like this. Even if we have to keep it a secret.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he turned down a quieter road, away from the main streets. “I like it too. More than I thought I would, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean you didn’t expect to like sneaking around with me?”

“Not exactly what I meant,” he replied with a laugh. “But I didn’t expect to feel this… happy. With you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him for a long moment, taking in the way his hair fell softly over his forehead, the way his jaw tightened slightly whenever he was thinking hard about something.

“Cheol…” you began, but the words died in your throat. What were you supposed to say? That you were falling for him? That you’d fallen long before he’d confessed? That the thought of him made everything else bearable?

Before you could find the right words, Seungcheol slowed the car to a stop. You glanced outside and realized he’d pulled over to a small, quiet park. There was no one else around—just the two of you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I know it’s not easy, keeping this from Jeonghan. But I promise, when the time’s right, we’ll tell him.”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around your bag. “And what if he doesn’t accept it?”

Seungcheol’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then I’ll keep fighting for us until he does.”

His words hung in the air between you, the weight of them sinking into your heart and settling there.

You smiled then, a real smile this time, and leaned over, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “Alright, Mr. Choi. Let’s see how long we can keep this up before my brother catches on.”

Seungcheol chuckled, his hand reaching over to take yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Challenge accepted, princess.”

Seungcheol looked up from his computer screen when his office door swung open without warning. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Jiyeon stormed inside, her steps frantic, shoulders tense. It wasn’t hard to guess who had set her off like this. With a subtle sigh, he shifted his attention fully to her.

“Jiyeon,” he greeted her, his voice calm in contrast to the energy she was emitting. “You look... restless.”

“Restless?” she snapped, stopping right in front of his desk. “More like infuriated!”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, not looking particularly surprised. “I’m guessing this has something to do with Jeonghan?”

Jiyeon’s mouth opened and closed, a mixture of frustration and disbelief flashing across her face. “He just canceled our lunch date—again. No warning, no apology, just a brief message saying he’s busy.” She took a deep breath, and for a moment, Seungcheol thought she might scream. “He’s always busy, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, the corners of his lips lifting into an amused smile. “What did you expect? It’s Jeonghan we’re talking about.”

“Not this!” Jiyeon exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “It’s been two years, Seungcheol. Two years since we got engaged, and not once has he shown even a shred of genuine interest in me. "

Seungcheol listened to Jiyeon ranting on and on about Jeonghan, but he couldn’t help his mind from drifting elsewhere. He kept nodding at the right moments, offering occasional comments when she paused for breath, but a part of him was completely distracted.

“I thought things would change after the accident, you know?” Jiyeon’s voice was strained, on the verge of breaking.

Seungcheol blinked, his gaze refocusing on her face. “Jeonghan… he’s always been good at playing his part, hasn’t he?”

Jiyeon stared at him, her lips tightening. “You’re making it sound like a game, Seungcheol.”

“It’s not a game,” he said softly. “But you know how Jeonghan is. He compartmentalizes things. This engagement was always about business for him, nothing more.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Business… Everything in our lives seems to come back to that, doesn’t it?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer. He watched her, a faint furrow forming between his brows. He could see how much the engagement weighed on her, the toll it had taken over the past two years.

Part of him wanted to offer her some comfort, to give her some sort of answer that could make this all easier. But another part—the one that had become more prominent ever since he confessed to you—kept whispering something else. Something selfish.

If Jiyeon and Jeonghan finally called it quits… It would benefit him, wouldn’t it?

It would give Seungcheol the space to focus on his relationship with you without constantly looking over his shoulder.

Because if anyone found out about you and him… Well, the repercussions wouldn’t be small. He knew that better than anyone.

“Why do you keep putting yourself through this?” he asked, his voice softer now, a touch of genuine concern in it. “If it’s hurting you this much, why not just call off the engagement?”

Jiyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Seungcheol knew she was scrutinizing him, searching for any ulterior motives. He kept his expression open, neutral, but inside, his thoughts were spinning.

Did this make him a terrible person? Maybe. But then, wasn’t it Jeonghan’s fault for treating Jiyeon like a mere business obligation in the first place? And wasn’t it Jiyeon’s fault for allowing herself to be strung along like this?

And wasn’t it his right to be a little selfish, after everything?

“Call it off?” Jiyeon echoed, her voice small and disbelieving. “You’ve never been this supportive of me calling it off before. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Seungcheol watched her, feeling the weight of the question. He should have expected this; Jiyeon was sharp—sharper than people often gave her credit for.

He took a deep breath and offered her a small, wry smile. “People change. Perspectives change. You’re my cousin, Jiyeon, and if this engagement is making you miserable, I don’t see the point of dragging it out.”

Jiyeon’s gaze narrowed further, suspicion glimmering in her eyes. “You’ve never cared this much about my happiness before, Seungcheol.”

Ouch. He had to give it to her—she didn’t hold back when she sensed something was off. But Seungcheol didn’t flinch. Instead, he shrugged lightly.

“Maybe I’ve just gotten soft.” He tilted his head slightly, letting a hint of a smile touch his lips. “Or maybe I’ve started to realize how pointless it is to force people to stay in places they don’t belong.”

Jiyeon continued to stare at him, her gaze calculating. “Are you… seeing someone?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, but he managed to keep his face composed.

“Jiyeon, my personal life isn’t what’s important right now.”

“Oh, it is important if you’re seeing someone, and that’s why you’re pushing me to call off my engagement,” she pressed, voice lower now, more intense. “If this is about someone else, then I deserve to know.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head slowly. “It’s not about me,” he murmured. “It’s about you. And what you want, Jiyeon. Jeonghan’s my friend, but you’re also my family. I don’t want you stuck in something that’s not going anywhere, no matter what’s happening in my life.”

There was a flicker of something in Jiyeon’s eyes—hesitation, maybe. Uncertainty. She held his gaze for a long, tense moment, then finally exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly.

“Fine,” she muttered, rubbing her temples as if trying to soothe a headache. “But I’m not done with this conversation.”

Seungcheol’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “I didn’t expect you to be.”

You sat across from Jeonghan at the bustling barbecue joint, poking at the sizzling meat on the grill with a pout. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when he texted you about dinner. You’d envisioned fine dining, A5 Wagyu steak, and maybe a glass of an expensive, aged wine. It would have been a perfect way to celebrate one month of officially working at your brother’s company.

Instead, here you were, in a casual barbecue restaurant with loud chatter all around, the smell of grilled meat clinging to your clothes. Though, you had to admit—maybe reluctantly—the food did look good. And Jeonghan had been thoughtful enough to order all your favorites.

“Eat up,” he said, flipping a piece of pork belly onto your plate. “You’ve lost weight.”

You shrugged, choosing to ignore his comment. Of course, you had. You’d been strict about your diet lately. You didn’t want to show up in front of Seungcheol looking like a stuffed dumpling on a random day. But that didn’t mean you were going to deny yourself a good meal tonight. If nothing else, you’d at least get something out of this dinner.

Jeonghan glanced at you, probably noticing your half-hearted expression. “I heard you’ve been doing well at work,” he said, his tone light but watchful.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

He smiled, unbothered. “Of course. I had to make sure my little sister wasn’t causing trouble for the marketing team.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite of the pork belly. Despite your initial annoyance, you couldn’t help but appreciate his support.

“Everything good with you and Jiyeon?” you asked suddenly, steering the conversation away from yourself. It had been months since you last saw Jiyeon ever since the car accident.

Jeonghan’s shoulders tensed slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah… we’re good.”

His words were casual, but you noticed the way his gaze dropped to the grill, avoiding yours. You tilted your head, watching him intently. “The feelings still the same?” you pressed gently, knowing you were treading on delicate ground.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, lifting his eyes slowly. His lips twitched, a shadow of his usual confident smirk appearing and then disappearing just as quickly.

He looked up, meeting your gaze squarely. “Jiyeon’s… pretty,” he said, almost to himself. “She’s smart, driven. She’d make a great partner for anyone.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. He glanced down at his hands, shaking his head slightly. “It’s just… there’s something inside me that stops me from falling for her. And I can’t put it into words.”

The frustration in his voice was palpable. It made your chest ache for him, this man who’d always been so sure of himself, now struggling to grasp his own emotions.

“It’s alright, Jeonghan,” you murmured, your voice soft, comforting. “You don’t have to force yourself to feel something that isn’t there.”

Jeonghan didn’t respond, his eyes drifting away as if searching for answers in the smoke curling up from the grill. The silence between you was heavy, filled with words unspoken and pain unaddressed. He’d been there for Jiyeon, done everything a good fiancé would do. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was only playing the role of a fiancé—not really living it.

And as you sat there, you couldn’t help but think back to Seungcheol’s words from earlier that day.

“If Jeonghan and Jiyeon finally decide to call it off… it wouldn’t be the end of the world, you know?”

You hadn’t understood what he meant at the time. But now, looking at Jeonghan’s weary expression, the way he forced himself to be the person Jiyeon needed, you began to see it.

Maybe, just maybe, calling it off would be the best thing—for everyone involved. Including Seungcheol, who’d seemed a little too relieved at the thought of the engagement ending.

You shook your head, trying to push away the unsettling thought. No, it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about what Seungcheol and you might gain. It was about your brother’s happiness.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the grill. The meat was starting to char at the edges, and you quickly flipped it over, frowning at the burnt bits.

Maybe Seungcheol was right. Maybe some things weren’t meant to be fixed, but to be set free.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time for Jeonghan to let go of the life he thought he was supposed to live… and find one where he could finally be happy.

Jeonghan removed his engagement ring and placed it on the table in front of Jiyeon’s parents. The sound of the metal touching the wooden surface seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room. Jiyeon’s parents stared at the ring, disbelief etched across their faces as they looked back and forth between their daughter and Jeonghan. Jiyeon remained silent beside him, her gaze fixed on the table as if she could avoid the weight of the moment entirely.

Before her parents could voice their outrage, Jiyeon took off her own ring and set it beside his, an unspoken affirmation that this decision had been made together. The rings, once symbols of a future they were supposed to build, now lay side by side, abandoned.

“I realized that I’m not ready to settle,” Jeonghan said, his voice steady but soft. He looked directly at Jiyeon’s father. “My priority right now is my sister. I don’t want to keep hurting Jiyeon by holding on to something I can’t fully commit to.”

Jiyeon’s father, a man usually composed and measured, narrowed his eyes. “And you’re prepared for the consequences of this?” he asked, voice low with an edge of warning.

Jeonghan met his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes, I’ve thought it through. I’m aware of what this means for both our families, and I’m sorry for how this will affect our businesses. But it’s the right thing to do.”

A heavy silence settled in the room. Jiyeon’s mother let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, while her father’s stern expression remained unchanged. They knew what Jeonghan was referring to—the contracts and collaborations between the two families that would likely dissolve now that the engagement was off. But none of it mattered anymore. Not when Jiyeon’s empty gaze mirrored Jeonghan’s.

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, offering a small, remorseful smile. “I apologize once again,” he murmured, bowing his head. It was a gesture not just of respect, but of finality.

The drive home felt like a blur. The city lights outside the car window blended into a sea of color as he navigated through Seoul’s busy streets. He should’ve felt lighter, relieved even. But all he felt was a hollow emptiness, a void where expectations and duty used to reside.

When he finally stepped into the house, he was greeted by the quiet stillness that came with being alone. The maid offered a polite smile and a nod before retreating, leaving him in the large, empty living room. His eyes wandered to the framed family photo on the wall—the one taken two days before everything changed.

A little you, perched on your father’s lap, smiling brightly at the camera. His younger self stood beside your mother, his expression carefree, with no trace of the weight he’d eventually carry. That picture captured a moment frozen in time—before the car accident that took your parents, before the responsibilities of the family business fell on his shoulders.

He’d been so young, barely an adult himself. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared for the endless days and sleepless nights that followed, learning how to run a business while grieving. But he had to be ready. For you, for the legacy left behind. He pushed himself harder than anyone could imagine, hoping that if he tried hard enough, he’d find happiness at the end of it all.

But it never came. He never found it.

Until you came back to Seoul after graduation.

You’d breezed into his life like a whirlwind, bringing color and laughter back into a world that had been gray for too long. Your presence reminded him of what it felt like to be happy again. He cherished seeing you smile, watching you rediscover life with the kind of enthusiasm he’d long since buried.

Then he saw you, smiling at Seungcheol at the Heidos Group Anniversary. It was the first time he noticed that familiar spark in your eyes. The same one you’d had back in college, when he’d shown you a photo of his roommate and you’d teased him with a mischievous grin.

“Wow, you have a handsome friend. Why don’t you introduce us?” you’d joked.

He remembered the look on his face back then—the way he’d sworn he’d never let you two meet. Your crush on Seungcheol was a topic he never took lightly, though he’d played it off as an overprotective brother act. He hated it, seeing that giddy, admiring look on your face, even if he’d never said a word.

And then, he watched you grow up, choosing paths that always seemed to lead back to Seungcheol—whether it was working at Heidos Food or insisting on attending the same events. When you’d finally landed a job at Heidos Food, the excitement in your voice had made his chest tighten with something close to fear.

“The time has come,” he’d thought bitterly.

Jeonghan knew he couldn’t stop you. He couldn’t stand in the way of fate, no matter how much he wanted to. Because if there was anyone who could give you the kind of love and happiness he couldn’t, it was Seungcheol.

The day when he saw Seungcheol’s car parked in front of your house, he realized he’d been right all along. He’d sensed that whatever it was between you and Seungcheol was finally unfolding, blooming into something he couldn’t control.

And now, as he stood in the dimly lit hallway of his house, staring at that old family photo, he felt a strange sense of peace. Letting go of Jiyeon, refusing to force himself into a life he didn’t want, had been the right decision.

Because he couldn’t stand to see you unhappy. And if Seungcheol could bring you joy, then everything—letting go of his engagement, enduring the aftermath—would be worth it.

Jeonghan turned away from the photo, his gaze lingering on the empty, silent house. Yes, he thought, his heart aching but resolute. Letting go was never easy, but some things needed to be set free so that something new could begin.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to start letting go of the life he thought he should lead… and find one where he could finally just be.

The early morning light peeked through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Seungcheol shifted slightly, careful not to wake you as he looked down at the sight that had become his favorite—your peaceful face resting against his chest, hair slightly mussed from sleep.

You’d stayed the night, and now, as he watched the rise and fall of your breathing, he couldn’t help but smile. This moment, the quiet intimacy of waking up with you in his arms, felt almost too perfect to be real. He’d often catch himself wondering how he got lucky enough to have you here, tangled up with him in sheets that were no longer cold and empty.

Slowly, as if sensing his gaze, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked, squinting against the morning light before looking up at him, a small pout forming on your lips.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shifted, stretching slightly but not moving away from his hold. “Morning… I should probably get going, though,” you mumbled, glancing around as if remembering where you were. “I don’t have any clothes here.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t need to rush off so soon. The lady who cleans the house brought over a bunch of women’s clothes the other day. Said she thought they might come in handy.”

Your eyes widened a fraction. “Wait, seriously? Why would she do that?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm in the quiet room. “I might have mentioned something about a ‘guest’ staying over occasionally. Ever since then, she’s been pampering me with questions and insisting on stocking up on things.”

You groaned softly, burying your face back into his chest. “Seungcheol…”

“What?” He pretended to look offended, though his grin only widened. “I didn’t exactly ask her to do it, but I have to say, she’s been very thoughtful.”

“Still… it’s embarrassing,” you muttered.

He let out a low hum, running his fingers gently through your hair. “I like it,” he admitted softly. “I like having you around. Everything just… feels better when you’re here.”

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, a softness and sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. He was serious. Everything was better with you.

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay for breakfast, but I’m going home after that.”

“Deal,” he agreed easily, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before you finally untangled yourself from his arms.

A little while later, you were sitting across from Seungcheol at his kitchen table, the two of you sharing a simple breakfast. Despite the everyday setting, something about it felt special. The clink of utensils against plates, the smell of coffee filling the air—it was a scene you could get used to.

Seungcheol watched you from over his cup, unable to stop the smile that crept onto his face. Eating breakfast alone was something he’d grown accustomed to, but with you here, everything was different. The eggs tasted richer, the toast more buttery, and even the morning sunlight seemed warmer.

“I could get used to this,” he mused aloud, his voice light but with a hint of something deeper.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast. Mornings. Everything,” he said, leaning back slightly as he took in the sight of you. “When you’re here, the food tastes better, the air feels fresher… even the cold water in the shower isn’t as bad.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Such a sweet talker, Seungcheol.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You make everything better.”

Your cheeks warmed at the intensity of his gaze, but before you could respond, he was already standing up and gathering the empty dishes. You moved to help, but he waved you off.

“Stay. I’ll do the dishes,” he said firmly.

“You cooked,” you protested. “It’s only fair I help.”

He hesitated, then sighed, relenting. “Alright, fine. But I’m drying.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm at the sink. You washed, and he dried, his presence close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Every so often, his arm would brush against yours, sending tiny sparks up your skin.

It was just the two of you, sharing a simple, quiet moment in his kitchen. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Seungcheol’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You squealed softly in surprise, your soapy hands hovering awkwardly over the sink as you turned your head to look at him.

“Seungcheol, what are you doing?” you asked, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I just… needed to hold you for a second,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hands splayed across your stomach, holding you close as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re always so busy, and I just wanted a bit more of you before you go.”

Your heart melted at his words. He sounded almost childlike, his usual confident demeanor slipping away to reveal the vulnerability underneath.

You turned slightly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

His gaze softened, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, lingering, as if he was savoring every second. You sighed against his mouth, your hands reaching up to wind around his neck.

One kiss turned into another, then another, each one deeper than the last. The dishes were forgotten, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the fridge and the ragged breaths you both shared.

“Seungcheol…” you breathed out as his mouth trailed down your jaw, leaving a hot path of kisses along your neck. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, trapping you in place as he pulled you closer.

But before things could go any further, the front door swung open.

You both froze, heads snapping toward the sound. Footsteps echoed through the hallway, drawing closer. Panic seized you, your heart racing as you looked up at Seungcheol with wide eyes.

“Who could that be?” you whispered frantically.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered, releasing you and stepping back hastily.

The footsteps stopped, and a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Jiyeon?” Seungcheol blurted out, his voice a mixture of shock and confusion.

Jiyeon’s eyes widened as she took in the scene—your flushed face, Seungcheol’s disheveled hair, the obvious tension lingering in the air.

For a moment, no one spoke.

“Uh… hi?” you offered weakly, your voice sounding embarrassingly small.

Jiyeon raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. “Did I… interrupt something?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, scrambling to regain his composure. “What are you doing here?”

Jiyeon shrugged casually. “I came to talk. But it seems like you’re… busy.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and you could see the teasing smile threatening to break through.

Seungcheol let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Let’s… talk.”

You shifted awkwardly, glancing at Seungcheol. “I should probably—”

“No,” Seungcheol interrupted firmly, taking your hand. “Stay. Whatever she has to say, she can say it in front of you.”

Jiyeon’s smirk widened. “Well, this should be interesting,” she murmured, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much.

As Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightened, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever was coming, you’d face it together.

The brunch spot you’d chosen was a cozy little café downtown, known for its long queues on weekends. You glanced around nervously, feeling a bit guilty for dragging Seungcheol out here on a Sunday morning. He’d already spent the night taking care of you, and now he was stuck in line with you, waiting for pastries and coffee.

“I’m sorry for making you wait around like this,” you murmured, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I know you probably had better things to do than—”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, cutting you off with a gentle nudge. “Stop apologizing. I’m happy to be here. Besides,” he leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear, “I’d rather spend a few hours queuing with you than not see you at all.”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, and you looked away, pretending to be overly interested in the menu board. “Still… I feel bad that I’ve been so busy. It’s like everyone at work just dumped all their projects on me.”

“Maybe you should start messing with their work,” he suggested with a cheeky grin.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “As tempting as that sounds, Jeonghan would not be happy about it.”

Seungcheol’s smile faltered a little at the mention of your brother. “Your brother needs to cut you some slack,” he muttered. “You’re doing more than enough for that company.”

“Speaking of which…” You glanced up at the counter where the bakery display was set up. “I think I should get more almond croissants. Just in case Jeonghan decides to visit my place.”

Seungcheol’s frown deepened. “He should stop visiting your place so often. Doesn’t he have anything else to do?”

You tried to stifle a laugh. “No, he only has me.”

“Ugh,” Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his temples dramatically. “Right, I forgot. Your brother’s territorial complex. I don’t think he’s ready to share you yet.”

“Not at all,” you teased lightly. “Which is why you’re right—we should probably wait until our second anniversary to tell him, not the first.”

He sighed, a smile tugging at his lips despite his grumbling. “You’re going to make me wait even longer, huh?”

“Just a little bit,” you hummed, flashing him a playful smile.

It didn’t take much longer for the line to move forward, and soon enough, you were walking out with a bag full of fresh pastries and two cups of coffee. Seungcheol insisted on carrying everything, his hand lightly brushing yours every so often as you walked back to his car.

The ride back to your place was filled with easy chatter and laughter. Seungcheol had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, his presence so warm and comforting that you found yourself wishing you could stay with him all day. But you knew you couldn’t; there was still a mountain of work waiting for you at home.

When you finally reached your building, Seungcheol parked the car and turned to you, a small, reluctant smile on his face. “I’ll walk you up.”

“You don’t have to,” you protested lightly, though you secretly loved that he was always so considerate.

“I want to,” he insisted. He carried the pastry bag and followed you to your door, his hand finding its way to your lower back as you fished for your keys.

The second you unlocked the door, Seungcheol pulled you into a gentle hug, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Promise me you’ll take breaks while working,” he murmured softly.

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace. “I will,” you whispered, your arms tightening around him.

“And text me when you’re done, alright?” he added, tilting your face up so he could press a lingering kiss to your lips. “I want to know when I can steal you away again.”

You nodded, smiling against his mouth. “Okay, I’ll text you.”

But before you could say anything else, the door behind you swung open, startling both of you. You turned around, eyes widening in shock as you found yourself face-to-face with Jeonghan.

His gaze shifting between you and Seungcheol. His eyes narrowed, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he processed what he was seeing—his little sister standing on the doorstep with Seungcheol, lips a bit too swollen and hair a bit too messy to be innocent.

“What’s this?” Jeonghan demanded, his tone icy as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to explain?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Seungcheol beat you to it. He took a step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from Jeonghan’s cold glare.

“I can explain,” Seungcheol said calmly. “I know this looks… unexpected, but I can assure you that everything is fine. We’re fine.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Fine?” he repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “You’re standing outside my sister’s apartment looking like you’ve been making out for hours, and you’re telling me everything is fine?”

You winced, but Seungcheol remained unflinching. “Yes, because that’s exactly what happened.”

Your eyes widened at Seungcheol’s boldness. He shot you a quick, reassuring glance before turning back to face Jeonghan, his shoulders squared confidently.

“I like her,” Seungcheol stated firmly, his voice unwavering. “I’ve liked her for a long time. And I’d like to keep liking her—with your permission, of course.”

Jeonghan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Seungcheol’s directness. He glanced at you, his gaze softening slightly before he looked back at Seungcheol.

“You like her?” he echoed, as if testing the words on his tongue. “Since when?”

Seungcheol hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly. “Since… well, since before I knew I wasn’t supposed to.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice in his gaze, only a protective wariness. “And you,” he turned to you, his voice softer now. “Is this what you want?”

You swallowed, meeting Jeonghan’s gaze squarely. “Yes. I want this,” you said quietly but firmly. “I want to be with him.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, the tension almost palpable. Then, slowly, Jeonghan let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Well… I guess I can’t really stop you,” he muttered, his lips quirking up in a reluctant smile. “But I swear, if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Seungcheol interrupted, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I promise, I won’t.”

Jeonghan eyed him for a long moment, then nodded, a small sigh escaping him. “Alright. But don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Seungcheol replied with a grin.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching up. He turned to you, his expression softening. “And you—don’t think this gets you out of our lunch plans tomorrow.”

You laughed softly, relief flooding through you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jeonghan shook his head, muttering something under his breath about troublesome siblings before stepping back inside. “Just… behave yourselves, okay?”

You nodded, smiling as you watched him retreat into the apartment.

Once the door clicked shut, Seungcheol let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He turned to you, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and amusement.

“Well, that went better than expected,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms again.

“Yeah,” you agreed, leaning into his embrace. “Way better.”

“Now,” he whispered against your hair, “let’s finish that kiss properly, hmm?”

You laughed, tilting your head up to meet his lips again, this time with no interruptions, no worries—just the sweet, undeniable feeling of being exactly where you belonged.

It was well past midnight, and your living room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your laptop screen. Papers were strewn across the coffee table, along with empty coffee cups and a half-eaten sandwich you’d forgotten about hours ago. You sat hunched over your work, typing furiously, as if sheer speed could somehow help you finish everything your colleagues had dumped on you.

Seungcheol sat quietly beside you on the couch, his presence a steadying comfort. He had come over a few hours ago after seeing your “busy” message and the growing bags under your eyes during your video call. You didn’t ask him to stay, but you didn’t have to—Seungcheol knew you too well to leave you alone on a night like this.

He glanced at you, his brows furrowing slightly in concern as you groaned softly and ran a hand through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

“I swear, I won’t work there anymore—even in my next life,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen.

Seungcheol’s lips curled up into a small smile. He shifted closer, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other began to gently rub circles on your back. His touch was warm and soothing, slowly melting away some of the tension that had built up in your shoulders.

“You’ve been saying that for months, you know?” he teased softly, his hand moving up to trace comforting patterns across your tummy. “Yet here you are, still working your ass off.”

You sighed, leaning back against him slightly, grateful for his quiet support. “This is why I hate nepotism. It never works fairly! It’s either you become the evil one, or you get eviled.”

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “It’s unfair,” he agreed softly. “And I hate that you have to go through this. But you’re strong—you’ll get through it, like you always do.”

“Only because you’re here,” you murmured, turning your head to look at him. “You know, I could’ve accepted your offer to go back to Heidos, but…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “But I chose this. I chose to stay with my brother’s company. Maybe this is my karma—maybe I deserve all this headache and exhaustion for turning down your offer.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened, his gaze filled with nothing but love and understanding. He shifted slightly, cupping your cheek with one hand as he leaned in closer. “Hey, none of this is your fault,” he murmured gently. “You don’t deserve any of this stress. And just because you chose to help your brother doesn’t mean you have to keep suffering like this.”

Before you could respond, Seungcheol kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way. He pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours.

“I can make you feel better, though,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing as his thumb caressed your cheek. Then, without waiting for your answer, he kissed you again—deeper this time, slow and lingering, like he was trying to pour all his love and support into that one kiss.

You sighed into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing for the first time that night as you melted against him. All the stress, the exhaustion, and the frustration seemed to fade away, replaced by the warm comfort of being in Seungcheol’s arms.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips when you finally pulled away, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Seungcheol smiled, his hand sliding up to tangle gently in your hair. “You don’t have to worry about that, because I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I’ll always be here—for every late night, for every breakdown, for everything. I’m with you, always.”

And in that quiet, intimate moment, you knew—no matter how tough things got, no matter how much work was thrown your way, as long as you had Seungcheol by your side, you could get through anything.

The night stretched on, but with Seungcheol’s arms around you and his comforting presence beside you, the workload didn’t seem so daunting. You could finish it, you would finish it. And when you finally shut your laptop hours later, you curled up against Seungcheol’s chest, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

The last thing you heard before drifting off was his soft whisper in your ear.

“I love you.”

52 notes · View notes

giggly-squiggily · 2 days

Note

I just KNOWWWW Akazas stripes are so ticklish! They have to be! Anything Lee Akaza throw my way 😫

I. Love. This. Headcanon. I love it! My god I can't even begin to count the ways I adore this silly thought of Akaza having the most ticklish stripes on the planet! I've gotcha covered, anons!

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

Kokushibou tried to be subtle in his staring. Hard to do given he had six eyes, but he tried all the same.

Before him, Akaza was spacing out, openly ignoring Douma and his constant chatter. Leaned back on his arms, his bright blue stripes were on proper display for all to see. Normally such a sight wouldn’t entertain the highest moon, but after recent events, they were the only thing on his mind.

“He gets so giggly when you trace them!”

He had heard about Akaza’s supposive ticklish stripes. It seemed almost everyone within the Kizuki had tried it at least once, earning various reactions from the red headed demon. Most walked away with temporary injuries; the exception being Rui. Akaza’s soft spot for the spider was as clear as the blue within his markings.

Once again, he found himself staring. So long so when he looked up, Akaza was staring back.

Silence. Moments passed that felt like hours at their stare down. Eventually, Akaza looked away. He always did first.

Kokushibou blinked, his attention shifting once more to Douma nearby. He was staring now, a knowing look in his eyes and a teasing smile.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and traced one of his long nails against a stripe.

“Sh-” Akaza all but jerked at the touch, twisting to snarl at the blonde. Douma laughed like a child, unfazed as he was grabbed and shaken by the angry demon.

That settled it. Kokushibou had to see what this was all about.

~~~

It took awhile, but eventually Kokushibou had him just where he wanted him.

“This better be important. What do you want, anyway?” Akaza growled as he sat before the demon, voice only just shaking beneath his anger.

Kokushibou decided to ignore it as he carried on with his plan. “I wish to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It seems everyone else has had a turn trying it, but I’ve yet to myself.” He leaned forward for emphasis, eye glinting with intrigue. “Would you be so kind as to let me have a go?”

Akaza blinked, taking in what he was saying. When it finally hit, he scrambled back- wide eyed and sputtery. “W-Whoa whoa hang on! Who told you- why do you- absolutely not!” He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his vest over himself even tighter. “There’s no way I’m just gonna sit there and let you-”

“I won’t force you.” Kokushibou cut in, calm as ever. “You and I both know if I wanted to do that, I’d already have you on the floor. I’m that much stronger than you.”

Akaza rolled his eyes at the reminder, still guarded. Kokushibou held up a hand in surrender.

“I assure you I have no intentions of testing it without your consent. If you truly don’t want me to do it, I’ll leave you be.” Kokushibou folded his hands once more, flat against his knees in a show of honesty. “That is all I have to say.”

Akaza stared, trying to find the lie in the demon’s teeth. There was none. Kokushibou was being genuine. A rare thing among them, but it did its job at lowering his walls. Groaning low, he came closer until he was sitting beside the six-eyed demon. “Five minutes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kokushibou blinked.

“Five minutes. I’ll give you that much time to have your fill tickling me. After that, we never talk about this again.” Akaza wouldn’t look at him, but his expression was clearly a reluctant pout. “Fair enough for you?”

Kokushibou stared. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I wasn’t.” Akaza gestured him to get on with it, his pout deepening as he looked anywhere but there. “Times a ticking- get your fill and I’m out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fair to only start the clock when I actually tickle you?” Kokushibou asked, amusement touching his tone as he turned on his knees, reaching out. Before Akaza could respond, he trailed a single finger along the bright blue band against his bicep.

“Eeeh!” Akaza jerked at the touch, frowning lips twitching. Kokushibou did it again. “Ehehem-mmph!” He bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound of his growing giggles building up in his chest.

“Just a touch and you’re already laughing.” The six eyed demon mused, daring to add a nail to the mix. “Is this your worst spot, or are you just anticipating what’s to come?”

“Shuuhuht up! Gahhaha!” Akaza went to swing at him, but Kokushibou was far too fast. He easily grabbed the fist coming his way with one hand, raising it up and giving himself more access to tickle spots. “Nohohoho, don’t! Gehahaha, yoohohu fuhuhucker!”

“Such language. I hope you don’t say such things infront of Rui.” Kokushibou chided as he clawed his fingers, dragging them along the stripes lining Akaza’s side. The reaction was near instant- the redhead went tumbling to the right with a loud cackle. “Knowing you, however- I shouldn’t worry about such things. You’ve always had quite the soft spot for him.”

“Whahahht’s thahahhat suhuhuhhoohohohsed to mehahahahen? Jehehahhaalous muhuhuhuch?” Akaza snarked through his laughter, torn between blocking with his free arm or swinging with the other.

“A little bit.” Kokushibou didn’t elaborate. Instead he dared a finger down the center stripe along Akaza’s chest. Akaza all but flew backwards at the touch, barking out a shrill laugh.

“GAHHAHA!” Losing all balance, Akaza hit the ground back first as he flailed about, shrieking with mirth while Kokushibou closed the gap. Fingers carried on tracing the lines along his torso, unyielding and devastatingly ticklish. “SOHOHOHOON OF A BIHIHIHIIHTCH! YOHOHOHOOHU SIHIIHIHXED EHEHEHEYED FREAHHAHAHK, CUHUHUUHUT IT OHOHOHOUT!”

“It seems tickling makes you more bold.” Kokushibou chided without malice, a rare smile pulling at his lips as he focused his efforts on the stripes running along his upper ribs, making Akaza flail and go near silent with mirth. “Six-eyed freak, huh? Is that what you call me when I’m not around?”

“GAHAHAHAH! I’M SHAHAHRRY! I’M SHAHAHHARRY NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Akaza all but shrieked, voice fading in and out as he threw a tantrum against the ground. He was sure he looked a right mess, eyes wet and face aching from that ever permanent smile. He wanted to rip off his skin and shake out the feeling until it was gone in the wind.

And yet- a part of him was having fun. A small part of him- ever present. Damn his once beating heart for enjoying this.

“Has it been five minutes already? Shame, and I was just getting to the good part.” Kokushibou hummed as he pulled away, folding his hands neatly in his lap while he watched Akaza roll around with a groan. “I found that quite enjoyable though, Akaza. Thank you for letting me have a turn.”

“Ugh, whatever. You’re just lucky I’m nice.” Akaza quipped back. The words stunned him though- a memory of himself saying that same exact phrasing to a young woman flashing through his mind.

“Akaza?” Kokushibou asked, his teasing tone fading into one of concern. Akaza blinked, reaching up and holding his brow.

“I’m fine.” He assured, sitting up quickly and facing the older demon. “I’m fine, really. Just…this whole thing is weird. You’re weird.” He winced some- he sounded like a bumbling fool. “Not that..that’s really a bad thing though.”

Kokushibou’s various eyes widened, taken aback by the comment. Akaza quickly twisted on his heels to escape. “You remember the deal! This never happened, you hear me bug eyes?”

He ran before he could be caught, flying down the halls and towards his usual hideout. Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he swore he could hear the faintest of chuckles from the room he escaped.

Yeah. Definitely his imagination.

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #tickle #tickle fic #squiggily writes the things #akaza #kokushibou #12 kizuki #upper moons #tickly stripes #I love this headcanon so much you don't even KNOW #AHHH!#fluff #Can you tell how much I adore Lee!Akaza?#he's just so fun to wreck lols

33 notes · View notes

kit4strophe · 1 day

Text

you ask and i deliver 😽 @emreads294

₊˚ Sleepy pet-naming Grayson ୨୧

My alarm blares from my bedside table. I groan and throw my arm out, slapping the orange button on my phone. Sighing, I open my eyes.

I look down, smiling as I see Grayson’s arm around my midsection. His soft snores are heard from behind as he spoons me. I pick up his arm, careful not to wake him, as I shuffle awkwardly off the bed.

Standing, I stretch my arms over my head. I turn to leave Grayson’s bedroom but a muffled sound stops me. I turn back to the bed; Grayson’s eyes are open.

“What was that?” I give a small smile.

“Where‘re you going, Sweetheart?” His voice is soft, being used for the first time.

“I’ve gotta get to work, Gray.” A soft laugh leaves my lips as I take in his sleepy figure.

His arm is where I left it, his head now on the pillow I’ve claimed. His half-lidded eyes focus on me as his brows furrow.

“Whatd’youmean?” His words are strung together as his eyes droop, widening once before he blinks several times to wake himself more.

I smile. “Work. You know, where people who aren’t Hawthornes go to make money?”

“Don’ insult me this early.” His eyes droop again.

My eyes flit to the clock on the table as it changes to 7:00AM. “Aren’t you usually up at 5 every morning to swim?”

Grayson groans as a response and I let out a full laugh.

“Stay here.” His voice is stronger now, more determined.

My smile softens. “I have work, lovebug.”

“I’ll give you money, just stay, Angel.” He nuzzles his head into my pillow, subtly inhaling. My heart squeezes at the sight.

“I don’t want your money, Gray.” Lie. I’d love to have his riches, his ego doesn’t need to know that though.

His eyes open and his intense gaze stills me.

“Please, baby.”

It wasn’t often a Hawthorne begged, in fact they never do—especially using sweet pet-names. It’s a well known fact that you need to be wise about how you move around Hawthornes. If they give you an inch, you take a mile.

And that’s exactly what I did.

#i’m eating this up #and i wrote it #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #i love grayson hawthorne #number one gray hawthorne defender #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x reader

49 notes · View notes

siriuslysatorusimping · 15 hours

Text

*Preview* Bittersweet Memories

Hi there. I said I might post a preview or blurb of this, so I decided to go ahead and do that. IDK if or when I'll finish this. It was more of a spur of the moment thing I started that's spiraled in my drafts. It's heavily inspired by The Vow, except Satoru is the one who loses his memory. I don't have timeline or anything else really mapped out, so this preview is a bit choppy. But essentially, they were married, and there was an accident(haven't determined what) that caused him to forget her and getting married, so they got divorced. Again, all the details haven't been figured out yet, but she's in charge of a Tokyo branch of her mother's bakery now. I haven't decided if it'll be something she always did or if she quit her job to do it after the divorce.

It's pretty damn angsty, tbh. But I'd love to know what you guys think!

Kiko's Masterlist | Buy me a coffee ☕️

*Preview* Bittersweet Memories

The bell above the door jingled, and Rinko called, “Welcome!” over her shoulder, “I’ll be right with you.”

Finishing her task, she turned quickly, her heart immediately thundering in her chest at the sight of Gojo Satoru staring at her in surprise.

Had he remembered? Was he here because he wanted to talk to her?

“Satoru–”

“This place is so cute!” a woman exclaimed, wrapping her arms through his and leaning into him. “Thank you for treating me, Satoru.”

The sharp pain in her chest stole her breath, and she swallowed thickly as she blinked the tears away. His memories hadn’t returned, or maybe they had. It didn’t matter now. What did matter was that he clearly didn’t want her anymore. He’d already moved on.

Smiling as brightly as she could, she forced enough air into her lungs to speak.

“Welcome,” she repeated, avoiding Satoru’s eyes by staring at the wall behind him. She could do this. She could keep going. She needed to keep going and accept that their marriage was over. That he wasn’t hers anymore. “What can I get for you?”

“A dozen of those.” Satoru pointed at the caramel miso butter cookies, his brow furrowed in thought. “And whatever she wants.”

Rinko ignored the ache in her chest, keeping the smile in place as she packaged the cookies.

He remembered that he liked the cookies, but he didn’t remember loving her. She guessed it made sense. He’d always had a sweet tooth.

She had to accept that he wasn’t hers anymore and that he never would be. He didn’t want her. He would never want her again.

“What do you recommend?” the woman asked, staring at Rinko curiously. “Everything looks so delicious. I heard that you’re based out of Kyoto?”

“My mother opened the main location in Kyoto,” Rinko confirmed, swallowing around the giant lump that appeared in her throat. “She decided to expand to Tokyo this year.”

“That’s precious,” the woman gushed. “This must be your dream, then. Following in your mother’s footsteps?”

The only difference was that she didn’t have a child like her mother did. Tears stung her eyes but she blinked to dispel them again.

“Something like that,” she finally replied. “We have some seasonal chestnut filled manju right now. I’d recommend those.”

At the woman’s excited nod, she placed a few inside a box and closed it carefully.

Stacking the containers, she accepted the cash Satoru held out, her skin burning when his fingers brushed against hers. Her chest felt hollow at the blank look he gave her as she handed his change back.

“Have a great rest of your day. I hope you enjoy the sweets!”

According to Shoko, it wasn’t anything serious. He was just dating again. Getting back out there. The knowledge didn’t comfort her. Though she didn’t know why she thought it might.

“Rinko-san,” Megumi called, sticking his head out from the back. “I finished sorting the inventory, so I’m gonna take a break.”

“Thanks, kid,” she replied absently as she rested her chin on her palm. “You can make yourself a drink, if you want.”

“Aunt Yuzu is gonna get onto you if you keep letting me have things for free.”

“Your Aunt Yuzu would be giving you even more things for free, and you know it.”

He grinned, disappearing into the back again and she heard the coffee machine just a moment later.

The bell on the door jingled, and she turned her head to welcome them. Her voice stuck in her throat at the sight of Satoru shifting his weight as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Um, hi,” he greeted awkwardly. “I’m– those cookies were really good, so…”

Of course he was back for the cookies. He’d almost given himself diabetes because of those damn things.

“They used to be your favorite,” she informed him as he trailed off, “so that doesn’t surprise me.”

“About the other day, if I’d known that this was your place, I wouldn’t have come in here.”

The air left her lungs as if he’d punched her, and she struggled to keep the hurt from showing on her face at his words. It stung. He really wanted nothing to do with her now.

Move. Get him his fucking cookies so he doesn’t have to look at you anymore.

Blinking, she felt her body moving, going through the motions of retrieving a box and placing cookies inside it.

“I meant– I meant if I’d known this was your place, I wouldn’t have– I wouldn’t have brought a date in here.”

She nodded mechanically, finishing her task and sliding the container across the counter toward him.

“I don’t see why you– if you want to buy your date dessert, there’s nothing stopping you,” she stated, wondering if that hollow ache she felt at the sight of him would ever fade. “It’s not like we have rules against couples here.”

His hand brushed against hers as he leaned closer across the counter. She tried not to flinch away.

“Listen,” he began, his voice quiet as his cologne filled her nose. The same cologne that still clung to some of her favorite shirts. “I’m sorry that I don’t– I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I don’t love you,” was what she was sure he stopped himself from saying. “I’m sorry that losing my memory also meant forgetting whatever made you lovable in my eyes.”

She always knew something like this was a possibility. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t remember whatever it was that made him think she was worth marrying when he’d never wanted to get married before. Losing his memory just solidified that whatever loose screw made him think she was the one for him had finally been righted.

Just like she’d always known would happen.

Finally mustering the courage to meet his eyes, she felt her chest split open at the sight of the azure depths staring back devoid of the love she’d grown so used to. She gave him the most genuine smile she could manage.“I’m just glad you’re well enough to have your sweet tooth,” she replied lightly. “All that matters is that you’re happy.” even if that means you don’t want me anymore. “Have a great rest of your day.”

The door opened before he could grasp the handle, and Satoru’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the woman in front of him as hers widened in clear panic.

Why was she at his parents’ house?

“What are you–?”

“Rinko, you forgot the– Satoru,” His mother came into view behind her. “I didn’t realize you were coming over today.”

“Decided to drop by,” he replied, his eyes still on Rinko’s face. Why was she there? “Didn’t realize you still–”

“She’s my daughter, whether you accept that or not,” his mother stated firmly. “Rinko, dear, you almost forgot your food.”

“Right,” Rinko squeaked, turning briefly to accept the bag full of bento boxes. “Thank you again for lunch. You didn’t have to–”

“We wanted to,” his mother soothed, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thank you for bringing the cake. Happy birthday, dear. Have a lovely weekend with your mother. Please tell her we said hi.”

“Of course,” Rinko agreed, extracting herself quickly and rushing past him.

“Be safe going home!”

Once she was gone, his mother turned to him, and he rolled his eyes slightly at the look in hers.

“Don’t start,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. He really didn’t want to deal with one of her lectures. “I get it, you’re pissed that you lost the perfect daughter-in-law–”

“I’m not angry with you at all,” she denied, stepping aside so he could enter. “I’m just sad.”

“I know you wanted me to stay married–”

“It had nothing to do with you being married,” she cut him off. “I wanted you to give yourself some time, to give her a chance, before you decided to divorce her just because you didn’t remember her. It’s not your fault that you don’t remember marrying her. But Satoru, you loved her more than anything else in the world. If you gave yourself some time to know her again, I have very little doubt you’d love her just like before.”

“You’re forgetting that I never wanted to get married,” he stated, following her into the kitchen. He spotted part of a strawberry cake sitting on the counter, immediately locating a fork and taking a bite. “Why was she here, anyway?”

“Did you not listen earlier?” His mother sighed, exasperated. “She’s still our daughter, whether you’re married or not. And it was her birthday, Satoru. We invited her over to have lunch for her birthday.”

He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the cake.

“She brought this, then?”

“Yes, she did.” She let out another sigh, quieter this time. “You know, the very first time you introduced Rinko to us, you pulled me aside and said that you were going to marry her if it was the last thing you did. You stood right there with hearts in your eyes and a giant grin on your face as you told me you never wanted to be without her.”

At this point, she should just accept that she was self-destructive. Nothing about what she was doing was healthy. It did absolutely nothing to help her move on with her life. But maybe she didn’t want to move on with her life. Not when her heart still fluttered every time she saw him, even if it left her feeling hollow and empty afterward.

Her heart had certainly already shattered beyond repair by now. So really, what did a bit more damage matter?

The bell above the door jingled with his entry, and she greeted him as she always did, the crack in her chest chipping open a bit further.

“One or two dozen?” she asked, used to the routine by now.

His weekly visits were something to both dread and look forward to. It stung that he still loved the cookies so much but felt nothing for her. But what wasn’t to love about her mother’s cookies?

His gaze still held no sign of warmth or affection for her when he met her eyes, something she’d finally grown used to after his first few visits.

The obvious suspicion when he’d seen her at his parents’ house had shaken her more than she expected. Going there had been a mistake, regardless of whether his mother had invited her. They weren’t married anymore. There was no reason for her to spend time with his parents. She still loved them, and she knew they still loved her, but it didn’t mean she could just cross boundaries he’d clearly set.

She didn’t want to put a strain on their relationship, or be in the way when he found someone else and wanted to introduce them.

After all, he was getting back into the swing of life. Back to work, enjoying it like he always had, hanging out with friends and helping some of his students on the weekends. He would be happier now without her in the way.

“Just one dozen this time,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Nodding, she grabbed a box.

“Any plans for the weekend?” she asked instinctively.

What was she doing? He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want anything to do with her beyond getting his cookies.

“I have a date,” he replied absently, his eyes going wide when she froze. “I’m– I mean– no big plans. Just–”

“That’s–” Her throat went dry as she tried to keep her chest from ripping open any further. She couldn’t risk whatever was left of her heart spilling out in front of him. Not when he was moving on. He deserved to move on and be happy without her holding him back. “That’s good– great, I mean. I’m glad you have plans. You– you seem happy. I’m really glad you’re happy.” without me.

She needed to stop talking. Forget being self-destructive, she was probably making him wildly uncomfortable.

Placing the container with his cookies on the counter, she tried to pretend he was just any other customer as she smiled.

“Have a great rest of your day.”

“All that matters is that you’re happy.”

“I’m really glad you’re happy.”

Her words echoed in his head as he approached the bakery, guilt beginning to creep up like it had every time since he’d stupidly blurted out that he had a fucking date when she asked him if he had plans for the weekend.

Fucking idiot.

He’d replied without even thinking about who he was talking to, but he’d regretted it as soon as he saw the look in her eyes.

He might not have wanted to be married, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to make her suffer.

At least, that’s what he told himself despite the fact that he knew he’d broken her heart and looked the other way when she cried because he didn’t want to believe it was true. He hadn’t wanted to believe he’d completely forgotten years of his life. Years that apparently involved him getting married. The documents and pictures really didn’t lie, though. He knew his family wouldn’t lie about something like that, either.

Everyone said it wasn’t his fault. They said that it wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember her.

What he did remember was the look in her eyes when he’d asked her who she was when he woke up. Asked her why she was in his hospital room and why she was so close to him. The look in her eyes when he’d said he wanted a divorce because he’d never wanted to get married in the first place, and he couldn’t believe that he’d ever changed his mind on that. The sobs she’d tried to conceal as she packed her bags and left without a single protest.

She erased herself from his life so quickly that he’d wondered if she’d always planned on doing so. If she’d been waiting for a way out.

And then she’d appeared again in an instant, standing in front of him in a bakery his date had wanted to try.

Her face had filled with so much hope when she saw him, only to crumple in the next moment when she saw who he was with.

But yet, even after everything he’d done, she still greeted him with a smile and told him she just wanted him to be happy. That she was glad he was happy.

Who wants you to be happy? Who asks if you are okay?

The questions always died in his throat before he could voice them. It felt wrong to ask. Like it was a line he shouldn’t cross because it would be insensitive. Who asked their ex-wife, that they didn’t even remember getting married to, if she was okay after they’d broken her heart without even a second thought?

She clearly wasn’t okay, but she pretended to be. At least, she tried to pretend. But how the hell did he even know that? What part of his psyche just happened to remember what she looked like when she lied?

What he was doing wasn’t just mean. It was cruel.

“Welcome!” she called cheerfully when the bell jingled above his head.

Her voice made his heart speed up, and he blinked at the feeling.

She did have a very pretty voice. He’d noticed the first time he’d heard her speak when he woke up in the hospital. The relief that bled through her words when she saw him open his eyes had confused him at the time. The hurt that colored her tone when he’d asked her to leave still haunted him.

He was suddenly struck by the desire to remember how they’d met. What had he said to her? How had they ended up together in the first place? He’d never really been the relationship type. What had convinced him?

“One or two dozen?” she asked, her question pulling him back to the present. Her smile seemed forced, not reaching her eyes.

How did he know that? Why did he suddenly remember that her real smile made her eyes shine and crinkle at the corners? How was it that he knew her eyes looked like polished jade stone in the moonlight when she was excited?

“Wait,” she said, frowning. “I– sorry, I forgot I don’t even have a full dozen right now. But if you don’t mind waiting just a bit, I can get you a fresh batch?”

Why would she go out of her way to do that?

“Don’t you only have a half-hour till close?” he asked, checking the time. Wouldn’t that waste cookies? “I’ll just take whatever you have left–”

“It’s– I bake them by the dozen anyway, so I’d throw in the couple I have left and call it a day.” She pursed her lips to the side. “But if you don’t want to wait, I understand. Sorry, it was rude of me to ask. I can just–”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he rushed out, taking a seat at one of the small tables. “It’s not a big deal to me.”

She nodded, ducking into the back for a few minutes before reappearing.

“Coffee or tea while you wait? Do you still like–” She cut off, her voice cracking before she cleared her throat. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’m okay,” he stated, that familiar guilt threatening to boil over again.

Should he start a conversation? Or would that give the wrong impression? He didn’t want her to think he was… trying to get too familiar. But he felt bad. He felt like he should say something when she was going out of her way for him. Why did she do that? Why did she seem to care so much about his convenience at the cost of her own?

Before he could say anything, she disappeared into the back, leaving him alone in the small cafe area as the guilt ate away at him.

Was he crazy, or had she lost weight since she’d moved out? Her clothes seemed to fit her differently than they had months ago. Was that why his mother had given her extra leftovers?

Why did the idea of her not eating enough bother him so much?

He jumped when she placed the box on the table in front of him. His chest ached as he watched her step away quickly, retreating back behind the counter before he could even stand. Why did that bother him? Why was he suddenly wondering if she had moved on yet? Why did the idea of seeing her with someone else make him inexplicably angry when he was dating other people?

“On the house,” she informed him, waving him off when he pulled his wallet out anyway. “Since you had to wait.”

He’d barely noticed the time passing because he’d been so stuck in his own head. The warmth that seeped from the box into his hands felt nice. An oddly familiar sense of comfort filled him knowing he’d get to eat fresh cookies even though he couldn’t remember having done so before.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he argued, peeking into the box to see two dozen cookies neatly stacked. “Let me pay–”

“You know, they say time is money,” she joked, her smile faltering when he just frowned. “Really, Sa– Gojo-san, don’t worry. Thank you for being patient.”

The way her voice quivered as she corrected herself made his heart drop to his gut, and he sighed reluctantly.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But I’m paying for them next time.”

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

She repeated that to herself over and over as she forced herself to take deep breaths.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

Because she loved him, she just wanted him to be happy. Even if that meant he didn’t want her anymore. Even if it meant he didn’t love her.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

That was all that mattered. His happiness and well-being were the most important.

Life never worked out exactly as planned. So what if her entire future was completely different now? At least she’d gotten a few years to be the happiest she’d ever been.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

She would be content knowing he was living his life the way he wanted.

“Just one date with me, Kurisaki-chan,” Satoru implored, leaning towards her as they stood at the bar. “Just one date, and if you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you again.”

Her skeptical look drew a chuckle from him. He liked when she looked at him like that. Something about it made him want to tease her more. He gave her a small pout.

“I’d be so good to you,” he implored, debating getting on his knees and begging. Everything about her made him want to know her more, made him want her to know him more.

“Your history doesn’t say that,” Rinko replied, tilting her head and pursing her lips to the side. He was dying to kiss her. “We both know I’m not your type, Gojo.”

“What’s my type?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “What do you think my type is?”

“One-night stands,” she stated bluntly. “No strings attached, no feelings, no relationships.”

Ouch.

“I have feelings for you,” he informed her, his heart racing when she snorted. “Gimme a chance, Kurisaki-chan. I promise I won’t break your heart. I’ll take such good care of you. You just gotta promise not to break my heart, yeah?”

“Promise not to break my heart, yeah?”

The words repeated in his mind over and over and over again as he emptied his stomach into the toilet.

What kind of moron had he been?

Of all the things for him to promise. Of all the promises for him to break.

How could she even stand the sight of him after what he’d done to her?

“I promise I won’t break your heart.”

The look in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t know why he would get married when he’d never wanted to before flashed through his mind. The hurt she made no effort to hide when he asked her to leave the house they’d apparently shared for years. He hadn’t just broken her heart, he’d shattered it and then walked right over the pieces so he could get cookies.

Avoiding her eyes, he shifted his feet uncomfortably while he waited his turn.

“How many today?” she asked lightly, her voice sending a fresh wave of guilt through him. “One or two dozen?”

“Whichever,” he replied, still unable to meet her eyes. How could she talk to him so casually? How could she just pretend he hadn’t hurt her so deeply? “Doesn’t matter.”

Her quick intake of breath had his gaze snapping to her face. The practiced smile paired with the sadness in her eyes made him feel sick again. He might vomit right in the middle of the bakery.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he blurted out, his gut dropping when she jumped. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a shaky laugh.

“For not knowing how many cookies you want?”

“I promised I wouldn’t break your heart,” he croaked, his throat closing as his shame threatened to choke him. “I–”

“It was a silly promise,” she cut him off, her brow furrowing as she pursed her lips to the side. “You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen.”

He’d never fucking deserved her love before and he sure as hell never would now.

“I knew you weren’t being serious when you said that,” she stated, shrugging. “I– I already told you I don’t regret marrying you. I don't regret giving you a chance. I don’t regret loving you, either. I just– I just hope you don’t–”

“I don’t,” he rushed, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’m– I don’t regret it even though I don’t… remember. But I wish I– I wish I could take back how much I've hurt you.”

AN: I included more in this preview than I originally intended but I got carried away and here we are. What'd you guys think? It's a lil angsty, huh?

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #goinko au #goinko angst #goinko preview #bittersweet memories #goinko bittersweet memories #gojo and rinko #rinko and gojo #gojo x rinko #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo and rinko au #gojo and rinko angst #goinko drafts #goinko au drafts

27 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 2 days

Note

🎃 Happy Birthday Month 500 Follower Celebration! 👻

For The Carrying On Series…

“recording and fondly laughing at the other as they trigger all the Halloween displays in the stores”

(I imagine the video being for reader & Sam 😂)

Thank you so much my darling friend! Thank you for all of your asks, thank you for your friendship and kind words. It all means so much to me ♥️

I loved this ask and I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

That Was Scary!

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader, supporting character Sam Winchester

Warnings: couple of swear words, PG-13 smexy time, smooches, alludes to sex, fluff and fun

Word Count: 2.1K-ish (I really am trying to keep these shorter but I can’t)

Summary: Part of the Carrying On Series. I’ll leave it linked HERE. It’s that spooky time of year again and Charlie is excited to go look for his costume and check out everything at the Halloween store. Uncle Sam is in town again and you’re devising a plan to try and scare Dean.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The vibrant reds and yellows of the fall foliage contrast against the deep green pine forests and the snow capped mountain landscapes.

The autumn scenery around your new Colorado home was a beautiful sight to behold. The early evening sunsets painted the entire sky with shades of purple, pink, and orange. They were absolutely breathtaking.

Dean and Charlie were used to it. It was all Charlie had ever known and Dean had lived there for a long time now but you weren’t sure you would ever get used to this view. Being able to walk out onto your back deck, look straight out and see the tops of the Rocky Mountains covered in snow, the sun warming the sky, and the fluffy clouds above them was a luxury you never wanted to take for granted. Not everyone had the privilege of seeing something like this.

You could feel him sneaking up behind you. His eyes raked over you as you observed the clouds move over the mountains and he gazed at you fondly as you let the last bit of sun warm your face before it disappeared behind the mountains until tomorrow.

Your lips curled into a wide smile as you stated, “It’s beautiful isn’t it, Dean.”

“Yes it is, sweetheart.” He replied.

You looked over your shoulder at him and biting down on your lower lip, you shyly said, “Baby, you’re not even looking at the view.”

“Oh my view is very beautiful.” Said Dean.

Keeping his eyes locked on you, he slowly climbed the deck stairs, walked over to you and pulled you in close by the waist so your back was flush with his chest. As you closed your eyes, you felt his full lips kiss your temple and his strong arms squeeze your body like he never wanted to let you go.

The crisp mountain air cooled your cheeks as the two of you enjoyed the silence and his body heat kept you from getting too cold.

“I hate to ruin such a perfect moment, buuuuut…” Dean started to say.

As you turned around to face him, you snaked your arms around his neck so you were looking up into his green eyes that matched the patches of grass that were still clinging to life.

“Charlie wants to go now, doesn’t he.” You said.

Dean closed the gap between your bodies and right before he kissed you, he replied, “Well, he can wait one more minute because I haven’t kissed you properly yet today. He’s been buggin’ me about goin’ all day.”

“Spooky season,” as Charlie called it, had arrived and he had been bothering Dean for the past week about going to check out everything at the Halloween store and picking out his costume.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, sweetheart.” Said Dean with a slight growl in his voice.

Between work, Sam visiting, and Charlie back in school, getting alone time with each other has been tough the past few weeks. By the time you both were finished with work, dinner, and helping Charlie with his homework, most nights you were too tired to do anything. You would end up falling asleep watching a movie or falling asleep in bed before Dean could come over.

“What are you talkin’ about, baby? I see you every day. Stop exaggerating.” You said, gently brushing his beard with your thumb.

“You know what I mean, y/n.” He said in a frustrated tone.

You did know what he meant but you were just trying to make him feel better. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, life had become just a little bit busier, and both of you were trying to adjust to your new schedules.

“I know, handsome. I know what you meant, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. We’re still trying to get used to everything, that’s all. We’ll figure it out, ok? Ok?” You said.

His eyes were focused on the ground and he was pouting slightly. He looked so adorable doing it though, nodding his head.

Dean cupped your cheeks as his lips collided with yours. Caging you in against the deck railing, he firmly pressed his body against yours, parted your lips with his tongue and wanted desperately for it to twist and knot with yours.

A smirk played across his lips as a strangled moan escaped your mouth, his hardening length pressed against your core, and he was leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

Just as he reached for the top button of your jeans, you heard Charlie call out to him from his front yard.

“DAD!!! Can we go now?!!!” Shouted Charlie.

Dean grumbled under his breath, “Son of a bitch…” Then yelled back, “IN A MINUTE, CHARLIE!!”

And then you heard Sam’s voice.

“YEAH! COME ON DAD! LET’S GO!” Sam shouted, sarcastically.

You bit down on your thumb to try and keep from laughing but it was hard not to. Pulling him by the shirt, you said with a chuckle, “Come on, Dad. The kids wanna go play.”

“I’ll kill them both, I swear.” Growled Dean.

You kissed him on the cheek and said with a sly smile, “Maybe we can play with each other later, stud. Let’s go!”

**********

Charlie practically jumped out of the Impala while it was still moving so he could go inside and look around before anyone else could. When Dean and Sam were young, they never really experienced any holidays and when Dean became a father, he wanted to give Charlie as normal a childhood as he possibly could so he and his wife started doing all of it…Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas…it gave him a reason to do all of the things he missed out on when he was a child.

“Look at this one, Dad!!!” Exclaimed Charlie.

He pointed to a trio of skeletons playing instruments. The description said that you could set up music through Bluetooth and it will look like the skeletons are singing and playing along to the music playing.

“That’s a lot of money, Charlie but it is pretty awesome.” Said Dean.

Dean didn’t know but you and Sam had a text conversation on the way, discussing how the two of you were going to try and scare Dean with some of the motion sensor Halloween displays.

You had a feeling Sam and Dean had plans of their own to try and scare you and Charlie too. Basically, there were a lot of clandestine plans being made around you and it kept you on guard while walking around the store.

Row after row of scary masks were mounted on the walls and they had what looked like every costume you could possibly want. Accessories like fake swords and guns were in baskets at the end of the aisles while makeup, fake teeth and wigs were in another aisle.

You never really experienced many holidays as a kid either being on the road with your father so you were really enjoying looking at everything in the Halloween shop.

The animatronics section was pretty incredible and Dean knew exactly which ones to turn on to try and scare you…the spiders. The first one was black with black and red striped legs and glowing red eyes. You nearly climbed up the wall when it jumped out in front of you and as you lurched forward, it tripped the motion sensor for the large fuzzy gray spider next to it.

While trying to control his laughter, Dean said, “You should have seen your face! Actually, you can see your face, I got it all on video!”

“Very funny, baby.” You replied with narrowed eyes, pressing your lips into a straight line, and folding your arms protectively across your chest.

“Oh it was very funny.” Said Dean.

You hadn’t decided how but you were going to get him back.

Charlie managed to find probably the scariest clown mask on earth to scare Sam. He patiently waited behind one of the other clown animatronics and just as Sam was about to walk past him, he jumped out and gave his uncle a good jump scare. All of the color drained out of Sam’s face leaving him white as a ghost.

“I got you good Uncle Sam!” Charlie said with a wide smile across his face.

Stuttering slightly over his words, Sam replied, “Y-yes y-you did, buddy. Why don’t we go put that mask away ok? Far, far away. Ya know what, let’s just buy it so I can burn it…that thing is…terrifying.”

Of course Dean recorded that one too. It was tough to scare him because he wasn’t scared of much but you had an idea that you texted to Sam and you needed a distraction so you could buy what you needed without Dean noticing.

You told Dean you would buy Charlie’s costume for him which was a perfect cover for what you needed to buy to get Dean back for scaring you with those spiders.

“Alright…we ready to go?” Dean asked.

The three of you nodded and then headed for home.

**********

“We tried to scare you, Dad! Nothing worked.” Said Charlie during dinner.

Dean replied, “It’s ok, buddy. I’m just not easily scared. You three on the other hand…I think Sammy is gonna have nightmares about that clown mask. And don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll check under the bed for giant spiders.”

Dean’s lips curled up into a devilish smile.

While Charlie was getting ready for bed, you gave Sam a quick nod, silently communicating to him that it was time to get Dean back for scaring you. Charlie was in his bedroom getting ready to do his part to try and scare his father.

With a confused look on his face, Dean looked over at you and Sam and asked, “Did Charlie go to bed?”

You glanced down the hallway toward Charlie’s room and the door was closed.

“He must have; the door is closed.” You replied with raised eyebrows.

Dean walked down the hallway and opened the door to Charlie’s room. It was completely dark inside and when he flicked on the light he saw a figure sitting on Charlie’s bed in a doll mask; Dean yelled “AHHHH!” and stumbled backwards into you and Sam also wearing creepy doll masks, making him jump even higher off of the ground.

You recorded his reaction to Charlie on your phone while Charlie recorded Dean’s reaction to you and Sam on Sam’s phone. The perfect revenge.

You managed to pull it off when he least expected it and as you tried to control your laughter, Dean stormed out of the room with a sour look on his face.

“Ok, ok ya got me!” Scoffed Dean, throwing his hands in the air.

After hi-fives all around, you chased after him.

“Where ya goin’, baby?” You asked with a wide smile.

“You got me with the one thing that freaks me out…I hate dolls.” He said, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. “Is that why you offered to buy Charlie’s costume?”

“Well I needed a way to be able to buy those doll masks without you noticing.” You said. “But I also really want to buy Charlie’s costume for him. I never got to participate in Halloween when I was young so it was nice to see the excitement in his face. Tonight was really fun for me, Dean.”

He pulled you in close, your chest flush with his, and he kissed you on the forehead as you melted into his embrace.

“Even though I scared you with spiders?” Asked Dean.

A wide smile stretched across your lips as you hummed into his chest, “Hmmmm, even though you scared me with spiders.”

“I love you.” He said softly. “Charlie loves his costume. You heard him earlier. He won’t stop talking about it.”

As you snaked your arms around his neck, you pulled his face toward yours until his lips met yours. Dean growled against your mouth as he parted your lips with his tongue and held you in a firm embrace.

Your fingers were spread wide as to let his soft brown hair glide in between them while his large hands roamed all over your body before resting them firmly on your hips.

Whispering against his mouth, you replied, “I’m so happy he does and I love you too, Dean.” You paused briefly, enjoying the feeling of his hands dancing up and down your back before saying, “Ya know…I got something else from the Halloween store that I thought you’d might like.”

A sly smile stretched across your lips as Dean walked over to the table where the bag was. He looked inside and saw the sexy nurse costume, then yelled out to Sam, “Sammy! Will you watch Charlie for a little while, I gotta go…take care of somethin’.”

Sam stuck his head out of Charlie’s room, “Dean, I have some research to do for a case. I need some time to—“

But Dean interrupted him, “Ok thanks, dude. I’ll be back later. Byeeeeee!” Said Dean, quickly ushering you out of the front door. “Go, go, go sweetheart.”

Sam shouted down the hallway as the front door slammed shut.

“DEAN!!!”

Too late, the two of you were already halfway across the yard, headed toward your house and tonight he was going to show you what an adult Halloween was all about.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @vaguekayla @stoneyggirl2

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #ericca answers #ericca’s 500 follower celebration

22 notes · View notes

bamber344 · 3 days

Text

Invested In Your Succes

masterlist

sup gang. this chapter is frickin huge. good luck lol

i feel like the character dynamics go pretty hard in this one but maybe that's just me

a few minor spoilers in the cws this time but if your worried about the content make sure to check 'em

enjoy!

CWs: Caning, stress positions, mentions of previous torture (beating), mentions of previous gun violence, controlling whumper, creepy whumper, lowkey whumper turned whumpee, allusions to non-con prostitution (briefly mentioned), minor cosmic horror, threats of violence, forced to drink alcohol, drunk whumpee

Invested In Your Success

“P-please, Father… No more… I- I’ll be good.”

My voice croaked out weakly, wavering and cracking with every word. Exhaustion and pain gripped every single fibre of my being in a stranglehold. I just wanted it all to end. I knew that I’d made mistakes, disobeyed Father’s orders, and that was why I deserved this, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.

Thwack!

I yelped at the sharp sting of the cane across my back, taking its place among dozens of other hot, stinging welts. I supposed I should just be grateful that Father had chosen to wait for me to recover from my concussion and broken sternum before continuing my insubordination punishments. Those few weeks of rest were the most peace I’d felt in… I couldn’t even remember. Maybe my whole life. It was all undercut by the dread of what was awaiting me once I was better, though.

It started with the discipline training days. A few days after my beating for failing to protect the SWAT officers, Father dragged me into a room of the facility I’d never been in before. Metal fastenings lined the walls and buckled ropes hung from the ceiling. He set me down on my knees and fastened my hands behind me with some cuffs, hooking them onto a rope so that my arms were wrenched upwards painfully. My ankles were subsequently cuffed to the fastenings on the walls, so I had no choice but to kneel, sitting up off my calves to try and alleviate the pain in my shoulders. Then, Father just left, closing the door and leaving me in the dark.

For eight long hours, I suffered there in unknowable agony, amplified by my lack of sight. By the time he came and released me, the strain in my muscles was so great that I couldn’t move for a good forty minutes afterwards. Then he told me that, until I learned to respect him and his authority, and to never talk back again, this was going to be a weekly thing. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

Getting shot was almost a good thing, in that regard. It was nice getting to talk to Vivienne and Brianna, and my injuries meant that Father couldn’t justify doling out my punishments for a while, lest he make them worse and ruin my performance as a hero. All that was over with now, though.

Thwack!

“Agh! F-Father! Dad, please! I’m sorry!”

I’d already been in this position for hours, though I’d lost my exact count once the pain got too bad. My arms were restrained over my head, pulling me up onto the tips of my toes. Do I support myself and use up my dwindling muscle strength, or do I just let myself hang, ruining my shoulders with steadily worsening dislocation? That was the question I was left with, though it quickly became pointless to wonder as my calves steadily lost strength and more weight was put on my arms regardless. Now, instead of letting me go, Father was caning me.

“Stop talking, Jordyn,” Father said, calmly. “You know you were forbidden from informing those superheroes of your circumstances, yet you did so anyway. Now be quiet and accept your punishment.”

It was the truth. In my never-ending stupidity and my concussion-induced haze, I’d said a lot of stuff to Vivienne and Brianna that I hadn’t intended to. Father watched the whole thing unfold through my visor camera, sealing my fate. He was right, I deserved this. But, deserved or not, it didn’t change how weak I was. It didn’t change how much I just wanted it to be over. I stifled a sob as the next hit came, vowing to at least follow Father’s orders and not speak, if I couldn’t stop myself from vocalising at all.

A few more strikes, and the punishment finally ended. Father unlocked the cuffs on my wrists and I collapsed with a cry, my dislocated shoulders sending a lance of pain through my body.

“That will be all for now, Jordyn. You have one more discipline session next week, and then we’ll see if the training holds or not. You have two hours to get yourself fixed and rest. Then, you and I have an engagement to attend. I will meet you in your quarters then. Do not be late.”

An engagement? That was the first I’d heard of this. And apparently, that was all I would hear of this, as Father left the room before I could sum up the energy to ask any questions. Oh well. That wasn’t super important right now, anyway. What was important was getting my shoulders back into their sockets. This was really gonna suck.

I grimaced, gingerly rolling onto my back and trying not to hiss at the feeling of my welts against the cold floor. I needed to calm down. This wouldn’t work if I wasn’t relaxed.

I closed my eyes, spending several minutes just breathing, and thinking about calming things. Sitting on rooftops on quiet evenings. Relaxing in my room with a book. Drawing. My shower. Talking with Vivienne and Brianna. I wasn’t expecting those two to pop up in my mind's eye, but it made sense. Their calm demeanour while Vivienne was treating me was part of the reason I didn’t freak out nearly as much as I could have, considering the situation. Brianna was especially good at keeping my mind off of it, her low voice hitting my ear at a comforting frequency as she told me how brave I was being. The thought of that memory made my stomach flutter a bit.

Now that I was calm, I slowly shifted my right arm up until it was over my head, and then carefully reached for my other shoulder. Sure enough, the joint popped back in with one last terrible shot of pain before everything subsided – on that side, at least. Now to do it all over again.

I cursed, spitting one of the words I’d heard the other officers use up at the ceiling. Did everyone’s life involve this much pain?

—

The designated time had come and I stood at the ready in my room, donned in my armour, trying to fight back against the shakiness in my exhausted muscles. Father should be here any minute.

Sure enough, the door slid open and Father walked in, looking me over. He nodded.

“Good, you’re ready. You can leave your helmet here. You won’t need it.”

I frowned, pulling it off and leaving it on the bed. That was highly unusual. Half the reason I was being punished was simply for removing my mouthpiece in front of Vivienne and Brianna. I didn’t even want to consider what Father would do if I’d taken my whole helmet off.

He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t shaved your head yet.”

A spike of adrenaline shot through me as I reached up to touch my head. He was right, I’d totally forgotten. I hadn’t needed to during my month of recovery, and to be honest, I’d been putting it off, savouring what little hair growth I could get. Right now it was sitting at around half an inch. Surely that wasn’t so bad, right? Still, I couldn’t afford another mistake.

“I- I’m sorry, sir. It slipped my mind.”

He sighed, turning to leave the room and motioning for me to follow. “I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s too late now, and in all fairness, you are recovering from a brain injury. Forgetfulness is to be expected.”

Relief flooded my body. He was letting me off the hook. “Thank you, sir.”

“I expect it to be done before you leave for patrol tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” I tried to hide my disappointment, already mourning the little bit of soft fluff I’d managed to grow.

The silence dragged on as I followed him down the hallway and into the elevator, and with it, my curiosity about the night only grew. “Permission to speak?” I asked.

“Granted.”

“What is this event we’re going to?”

“A party among my friends, to celebrate your relative success.”

“What’s a party?”

He looked at me, a hint of amusement at the edges of his eyes. “You’ll see.”

Once we reached the garage, we got into Father’s car and he drove me through the city. It was nice to be able to see everything without my helmet on for once, and when we arrived at our destination, I finally got to enjoy the sensation of something I’d been waiting for since the day I woke up; feeling the wind in my hair. It almost made up for the terrible day I’d had. Sadly, it was only for the short walk from the car to the building, though.

Once inside, we took an elevator all the way up to the penthouse floor. When the doors opened in front of me, I was greeted by the sight of dozens of older, suited people milling around a large space. Music was playing, and the air was thick with the scent of perfumes and colognes. They all turned to see who the new arrivals were, and all of their eyes quickly locked on to me. I tried to school my expression of discomfort, remembering that I couldn’t hide behind my helmet. The urge to turtle behind the neckpiece of my armour was strong.

“Andy, it’s good to see you!” A man approached us as we stepped into the room; sharply dressed, with his dark brown hair slicked back. A quick glance around at the faces and body language of everyone present confirmed my hunch: this man was the most important person here. He was younger than most of his companions, probably around 40, with angular features; high cheekbones and a sharp jaw.

“Mr. Beaumond,” Father greeted, shaking the man’s hand. “A pleasure, as always.”

Mr. Beaumond turned to me, his dark eyes travelling up and down my form appraisingly. They settled on my face, staring into my soul. A shiver crawled up my spine and I nervously averted my eyes, looking down at his shoes.

“Wow, Andy. I mean, seriously, wow. You’ve outdone yourself. The resemblance is actually uncanny!”

“I should hope so,” Father replied. “If her appearance wasn’t exact, it would mean something went wrong.”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was used to that by this point. I’d already accepted the fact that I was an idiot. No reason to agonise over not understanding the conversations of my betters.

“So, how much to rent her out for a night, huh?” Mr. Beaumond grinned and waggled his eyebrows, lightly elbowing Father. Then he burst into laughter, like it was all a joke. Something in his eyes told me it wasn’t. Despite not really understanding, a deeply uncomfortable feeling settled into my gut.

Father’s expression changed slightly, though he maintained the cordial smile. “Jordyn is not for sale, I’m afraid. I prefer to keep her activities tightly monitored in order to maximise her effectiveness. Perhaps we can discuss this in the context of some of the subjects still in development, but given the risks to the program that would involve, I would need quite the hefty funding bonus in order to consider it.”

Mr. Beaumond patted Father on the shoulder. “Ah, lighten up, Andy. It was just a joke! That being said, I’ll hold you to that.” He winked. I was shocked. No one had ever treated Father so casually before, and the way this man was acting was clearly putting Father in a bad mood. If it had been me, Father would have had me nursing multiple broken bones already. And yet, Father was still maintaining that calm, diplomatic smile. An icy sensation crept through my body.

This man held power over him. I could barely wrap my head around the concept. It just didn’t fit with my idea of how the world worked. Father was always at the top of the food chain. The employees at the facility and the police were below him, and I was below them, sitting with the rank and file officers, if not below them, too. Simply put; I was the prey, and Father was the predator. He hunted. He controlled. No one stood against him. The idea that there was anyone that Father was beholden to was terrifying. That the man could cause me so much pain and not be the most powerful was incomprehensible. It made me wonder how much worse Father’s predator would be, when their ire was faced upon me.

“Enough about business, it’s a party!” Mr. Beaumond jovially announced, snapping me out of my paranoid spiralling. “Come, you two! It’s an open bar, so get anything you like.”

He corralled us towards the tall bench that many of the party-goers were milling around. The wall beyond the bench was covered by floor-to-ceiling shelves, all filled with bottles of varying shapes and sizes. A man in a waistcoat stood behind the bench, rushing between people and filling glasses with the liquids inside the various bottles. His speed and efficiency in his work was fascinating to watch.

“Jordyn doesn’t drink,” Father said, to which I was tempted to argue that I do indeed drink, I have water all the time, when he continued, “She’ll just have a coke.”

The man behind the bar nodded and started filling up a glass with some sort of bubbly, dark brown liquid. Mr. Beaumond laughed that laugh of his.

“What is she, fourteen? Come on, Andy, don’t be a stick in the mud. She’s an adult; she can have a drink if she wants to.” He turned to me, and I had to resist the urge to back up. “Well, Jordie? What do you say? Care to have a drink with the grown-ups?”

I found myself at a loss for words, gaping like a fish as I kept trying to speak, only to come up empty. To say yes would be to go directly against Father’s wishes. To say no would be to go against Mr. Beaumond’s wishes. I didn’t know which was worse. Even outside of that, I had no idea how to respond. Wasn’t I getting a drink anyway? Maybe I was misunderstanding some terminology that the two men took for granted. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“As her handler, I would prefer that Jordyn doesn’t drink anything alcoholic tonight.” Father said pointedly. “She’s going out on patrol tomorrow for the first time since her injury. I would rather not have a hangover muddy her performance any more than inactivity no doubt already has. We wouldn’t want your investments to go to waste, after all.”

Mr. Beaumond put his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re her boss.”

Father handed me the glass of brown liquid as he ordered a drink of his own. I took a sniff and immediately recoiled as the sweet smell seemed to fizzle up my nose. Father laughed at my reaction as I tentatively took a sip. Again, the sweetness was almost overpowering, and it felt like the liquid was gently stabbing the inside of my mouth, tingling as it travelled down my throat. Surprisingly, that wasn’t actually a bad thing. It was just… weird. And new. I’d only ever had water before, so this whole thing was a very novel experience. I actually kind of liked it.

“Well, you two have fun now,” Mr. Beaumond said. “I’m gonna go mingle. We’ll talk business soon, yeah Andy?” He turned to me, giving me a wink. “Catch you later, sweetcheeks.”

With that, he sauntered off into the crowd. Father and I watched him go.

“Who is he?” I asked quietly.

“Sebastian Beaumond,” Father answered. “He’s a senator, and one of the key investors in your rehabilitation program. Treat him with the same respect you would treat me.”

I could have sworn he said the last part through gritted teeth.

—

If there was one thing I’d learned about parties throughout the night, it was that they were incredibly overwhelming. As soon as Mr. Beaumond left us alone, it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of me, and Father was little help, often engaging in completely unrelated conversations while I was left to fend for myself among all of the strangers who had a weird fixation with my face, for some reason. I lost count of how many times some old person pinched my cheek or poked me. It didn’t help that I was still in quite a lot of pain from the day’s punishments; my calves quivering and my shoulders steadily pulsing with sharp muscle stabs, the welts on my back still stinging with every movement. At least the drink Father gave me was nice…

Finally, after enduring the unwanted affections and confusing compliments from dozens of people, I was able to find the space to duck away and hide in a corner, catching my breath away from the crowd. Most people had gotten caught in conversations with each other, leaving me free to slip into the shadows, subtly pulling them around me to further obscure myself from view. I’d had enough interaction for one night, and not having my helmet on, despite how I usually disliked its oppressive cage around my head, was making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

A felt a presence coming closer, and a shiver travelled down my spine. Mr. Beaumond approached, two drinks in hand. I watched him warily as he came near, crowding me into the corner of safety I’d hidden in.

“It’s pretty dark around here,” he said, looking around. “That your doing? Don’t tell me you’re trying to hide away, Jordie? You’re practically the life of the party!”

I blinked up at him, trying to avoid staring too hard into the black pits of his eyes. Something about them was unsettling. “I… I, uh…”

He let out a small laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you? Here, drink this. It should help with that.” He held out one of the glasses. Inside was a brown liquid; lighter than the drink I’d had earlier, and without the bubbles. Its scent made my nose burn.

“I… I shouldn’t. Father said I wasn’t allowed.”

“Father did, hm? That’s what you call him? Ah, that’s cute. Well, he’s not around right now, is he? Besides, this party is to celebrate you! You deserve to cut loose a little. Go on, drink it.”

Mr. Beaumond leaned in closer. I didn’t want to say no to him, but the knowledge of what would await me if I disobeyed Father was too strong a warning to ignore. I hesitantly shook my head.

“Father would find out. I don’t want to be punished. I- I’m sorry, Mr. Beaumond.”

His face dropped all expression, becoming totally blank. The darkness of his pupils seemed to draw me in. There was nothing behind them; no light, no goodness, only a strange flickering at the edges of my vision that filled me with awful, primordial anxiety. It was the exact same sensation I felt right before my seizure a few months ago; a predator was watching me, and I was completely helpless against it. I was staring into the abyss, and it stared straight back into me.

“A word of advice, Jordyn, since I know you’re new to the whole ‘being alive’ thing. When someone offers you something, it’s polite to take it, regardless of what you really want. Maybe you should worry less about how Andreas will react, and worry more about me. Who knows, I might feel slighted by your snubbing of my offer. Andreas owes me a lot of money; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I paid you a visit in the facility some day to teach you a lesson in respect. And I would be very thorough, Jordyn. You think you know pain? You think you understand humiliation? I can break you in ways you can barely comprehend, ways Andreas wouldn’t even dare think of. Andreas may own you, but I own him. I own this city. There is nowhere you can go to be safe from me.”

He leaned back a little as I stood there, completely frozen. My heart raced like it was trying to escape from my chest. That same old easy smile overtook his face, replacing the cold, empty blankness. The smile was honestly worse.

“All that is to say… C’mon. Don’t be boring, Jordie. Take a drink with me.”

I took the drink from him, too petrified to do anything but obey. The liquid inside sloshed against the glass from the way my hands were shaking. He noticed it, and the edges of his eyes crinkled in delight.

“Aww, did I scare you? I’m sorry, babe. Drink up, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Mr. Beaumond, what are you doing?”

I’d never been so relieved to see Father in my life. He strode up to us, a stern look on his face that, for once, wasn’t directed at me. Mr. Beaumond didn’t look at him, keeping his horribly empty gaze locked on to me.

“Just giving the little lady a drink, nothing to lose your head over.”

“I thought I told you that wasn’t happening.”

Mr. Beaumond rounded on him, seeming to tower over Father despite being slightly shorter.

“Tell me, Andy. What makes you think you have a say? If I recall correctly, I own almost seventy percent of the shares for your little project. Doesn’t that mean I have a say in how things are run? A bigger say than yours, even?”

Father took a deep breath. I could almost feel his anger rising. “Even so, as I said earlier, I believe it would be foolish to get her drunk the night before her redeployment. Her public image could be at stake.”

Mr. Beaumond tilted his head. “It’s funny that you think I don’t know what your real goal is. ‘Revitalising the police?’ Please, don’t make me laugh. I know what you’re really planning with this little project of yours, and I just want you to know, I am invested in your success. Believe it or not, I want you to succeed. This world needs changing, and I do think you’re the one to do it. That being said, I could just as easily change my mind. It would be a cinch to cut your funding down to nothing. You’d have to downsize quite a bit. Maybe even let go of poor little Jordyn here. I would take good care of her, of course, but you’d be left without your soldier. You could start again with another subject, but how would that look in the eyes of the public? Your pet superhero just up and disappears, but it’s okay, because now you’ve got a new one, with no news of where the first one went? That wouldn’t go down well, especially with the rumours that are already floating around about Jordyn. Tell me, Andy. What’s worse? A hero in a program people are already suspicious of disappearing? Or, said superhero going back to work with a hangover? Hell, it might actually convince people you don’t hold the leash as tight as you do. It would be good for you. Just think about it.”

Father grit his teeth and finally submitted, looking down at the floor. “Do as he says, Jordyn. Drink.”

I didn’t even know what the drink was, but after how insistent Mr. Beaumond had been, I felt hesitant out of pure principle. “But-”

Father looked at me sharply and I had to resist the instinct to recoil. “You still have one week left on your insubordination punishment. Don’t make me extend that further.”

He was right. I couldn’t afford to be forced into that horrible room for even a second longer than I already had to. Whatever this drink was, it couldn’t be worse than that. I took a deep breath and brought the glass up to my lips, taking as big of a gulp as I could manage in order to finish it quicker.

That was a mistake.

The bitter liquid burned the inside of my mouth and all the way down my throat. I had to resist the urge to retch, forcing myself to swallow. A sudden nausea snapped through me for a split second before fading.

“That was awful,” I muttered, pulling a face.

Mr. Beaumond laughed. “Keep going, you’ve still got half a glass left!”

I tried not to shudder, steeling myself for the unpleasant experience before taking another large sip. Better to just get it over and done with.

By the time I was done, I was actively resisting the need to throw up. I put the glass down on a nearby table and stumbled back to the wall, leaning heavily against it. My head felt like it was spinning slightly, and the sensation was awful. I felt like I was slowly losing control of my own body, and in a place as dangerous and unsafe as this, I needed as much control as I could get.

“There’s a good girl,” Mr. Beaumond said. He held out the other glass. “Not done yet, though. Come on, you can do it.”

I let out a whine as my stomach dropped, looking to Father for help. He just nodded. I was completely on my own.

—

I stared at the floor, trying not to puke as the world spun horribly around me. My entire face felt numb, and my thoughts felt slow. If I thought the sensation of lacking control was bad after one glass, I had no idea what was coming once I’d finished the second one. Thankfully, Mr. Beaumond left me alone after that, patting me on the back and congratulating me for a job well done before sauntering off to bother someone else. Father told me to keep my head down and not talk to anyone for the rest of the night, so that’s what I was doing, lounging in a chair, hiding behind my shadows, and just trying to stay alive. At least the numbness made my injuries hurt a little less. It was a very minor comfort, in the face of everything else.

Time lost all meaning as I sat there, swaying back and forth. It felt like I’d been at this party for hours and hours, but that couldn’t be right; the clock on the wall hadn’t changed enough for that.

“Jordyn.”

I looked up at the sound of my name. Father stood over me, a carefully even expression on his face. I knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of worry underneath it, though. Behind him, the room had almost emptied out.

“Yeh…yeah, dad?”

His lip curled downwards a little at that. “We’re moving to a boardroom to discuss business. Given your… state, I believe it best that you do not attend. You can go home.”

I blinked. “R-really?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Use your shadows to obscure your face. If you allow anyone to see it, I will know, and there will be dire consequences. Am I understood?”

I nodded rapidly and immediately regretted it, as a wave of nausea travelled up my throat. “Yea- urp.” I quickly covered my mouth in case anything came out.

Father sighed. He waved a hand at me, as if shooing me off. “Get going. And if you need to throw up, do it somewhere no one will see.”

I nodded much more carefully as he walked away. Standing up was difficult, but I managed it with a bit of effort, stumbling over to the elevator and failing multiple times at pressing the button for the ground floor. This trip was going to be a pain, that was for sure.

—

I was lost.

No matter how hard I looked, no matter how many street signs I stared at, no matter how much I surveyed the area from atop a building, I just couldn’t find my way back to the precinct. My sense of direction was completely shot from the spinning in my head, and I’d already had to stop to throw up once. This night couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Father was going to be so mad at me.

The thought made a sob rip from my chest. I stumbled back against a wall and sank to the floor, unable to hold it back anymore. Once he found me, he was gonna hurt me again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Seven? Is that you?”

I blinked away my tears, looking up and ensuring that a cloud of shadows remained around my face. Vivienne stood not too far away, dressed in street clothes with a satchel around her shoulder. Her outfit was simple but cute; a yellow long-sleeve underneath a dark green cardigan, and a pair of skinny denim jeans. It made envy and longing burn deep down in my gut. What I wouldn’t give to get to wear cute stuff like that.

I sniffled. “Vivienne?”

“Hey,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Are you alright? What’s, uh… what’s going on with your helmet? It looks like a cloud.”

“I left it at home. Usin’ shadows to hide m’ face.”

Vivienne frowned. “Are you drunk?”

The question brought the memory of Mr. Beaumond forcing me to drink straight back to the forefront of my mind and I crumpled into another fit of sobbing.

“Woah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!” Vivienne said. “Here, c’mon. Let’s get you up off the floor, okay?”

She reached down and I took her hand, using it to help myself up. My balance was off though, and I stumbled against her, my head falling down onto her shoulder. She smelled nice.

“Are you… okay, Seven?”

No. I wasn’t okay. I didn’t want to feel like this anymore; so helpless and out of control. I didn’t want to be lost. I didn’t want Father to hurt me anymore. I didn’t want to be a superhero. I choked on another sob and shook my head against her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” She wrapped her arms around me, burying one in the short hair on the back of my head, and I practically melted into her. No one had ever held me like this before. No one had touched me so gently, not since the early days of my rehabilitation. I never wanted it to end.

“He… H-he made me drink… I di’n’t wanna, but he made me… sss…said he’d hurt me. I feel so bad ‘n I’m lost ‘n dad’s g’nna punish me again ‘f I don’ get back.”

Vivienne stiffened in my arms. “Who made you drink, Seven? Who said they’d hurt you?”

“Please don’ call me that,” I muttered. “Nn… N-name’s Jordyn. M’ not a number. I’m a person ‘n I’m not a number… I just… I wanna be a person…” My eyes pricked with hot tears.

“Okay. Okay, Jordyn,” Vivienne said, rubbing the back of my head. “That’s a nice name. Much better than Seven. Now, who did you say threatened you?”

“Mr. B- Beaumond.”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is. I wish I could help you more.”

I groaned, shaking my head and burying my face in the cotton of Vivienne’s cardigan. “S’ okay… You… you smell nice…”

Vivienne laughed. It sounded like music. The thought brought a small smile to my face. “Thanks. It’s probably my perfume.”

I hummed, closing my eyes. If I wasn’t standing, I could easily fall asleep like this, cuddled up to Vivienne. Her shoulder was at just the right height for me to rest my head on. Hell, I was almost about to doze off just like that when I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

“Can you… help me get home, please?” I asked.

“Okay, sure. Where do you live?”

“Precinct 23.”

“You… You live at the precinct?” I could practically hear the frown in Vivienne’s voice.

“There’s a big facility un’er it. I’ve lived there forever.”

“You’ve been under the precinct your entire life?”

“As far back ‘s I rem’ber, anyway. I dunno what I did before then. ‘S been a year since I woke up. Dad says I’ve always been a hero, but I don’ remember it. I… I don’t really like it. I don’ like the fighting.”

“I… I see…” Vivienne muttered. I was probably saying too much, but I couldn’t find it in me to care, and without my helmet on, Father wouldn’t see, anyway. For once, I was completely free of his surveillance. The moment would be over far too soon, though.

“Alright, well… I can take you to the precinct, but you’ll have to get inside yourself. Is that okay?”

I nodded against her shoulder. “Mhm.”

“Hold on to your guts. I’m about to teleport.”

The air popped in my ears as the scenery changed to the front entrance of the precinct. What a handy power to have.

“This is you,” Vivienne said, finally pulling back from the hug. I quickly amassed my shadows again to hide my face as we parted. “Do you need anything else?”

“Mm, no,” I replied. “Thanks for… Thanks for talking to me.”

Vivienne smiled, tilting her head slightly. The streetlights sparkled in her eyes. My stomach filled with butterflies at the sight.

“No problem. See you around, Jordyn.”

With a slight pop, she teleported away.

God, what an amazing woman.

I looked at the precinct. Now I just had to find my way back to my room. Easy, right?

—

I awoke to the feeling of someone nudging me in the side. My head was pounding. There was so much noise, and the light that was creeping through my eyelids was like needles being driven directly into my brain.

“Jordyn?” someone asked. I thought I recognised the voice as Mr. Sadler’s.

“Wh… what?”

“Why are you sleeping in the corridor?”

The memories of last night came rushing back. Stumbling into the elevator and heading down. Wandering through the halls, trying door after door to no avail. Finally, giving up and flopping down on the floor, sleeping right there in the hallway. I groaned, burying myself under a dark sheet of shadow to hide away.

“Leave me alone…”

Mr. Sadler laughed. “Long night, huh? Sounds like you’re gonna have fun at work today.”

The reminder felt worse than a broken sternum. I would legitimately rather die.

taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue

Did not expect to get a new whumper out of this chapter but Sebastian just forced himself into the plot anyway. He's creepy and awful and i kinda love it. I hate him.

jordyn just keeps having a real bad time. It won't get better any time soon i'm afraid. at least she gets occasional homoerotic encounters to keep her going.

Thanks for reading! leave a comment or reblog and lemme know what you thought! it's very appreciated :)

see you all next time for the return of our beloved bird woman. Ciao!

#project genesis whump series #whump series #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #controlling whumper #creepy whumper #drunk whumpee

22 notes · View notes