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whytheylosttheirminds · 7 months ago

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

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“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @maibelitaaura @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @v0lturiaq

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lemonlover1110 · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 5] Food Difficulties

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Puking

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Sukuna is practically forcing food down your throat, ensuring that you’re eating and keeping his baby healthy. He’s convinced that you’re expecting twins, but he’s not going to get his hopes up in case that you aren’t. It has to be twins though, the amount of cursed energy that your body transmits is too much for just one baby.

“The food is good, is it not? Finish it.” Sukuna urges you, but you can’t stomach the entire meal. You’re nauseous, the mere smell of the food makes you want to puke. You’ve gotten overly sensitive the past few weeks, eating has become one of the hardest tasks for you.

Sukuna has gone from ignoring you, to coddling you in his own weird way. He’ll get you almost anything you’d like, but he makes sure he’s mean to you when he does it. He won’t show you a weaker side of him– At least that’s what he considers kindness, the weaker side of humans.

“I’m full.” You tell him, but he’s having none of it. He won’t let you leave the room until you eat every last drop of food that’s on your plate. He’s ensuring that you’re growing healthy babies, and that can’t happen if your belly isn’t full of food.

“You have to eat.” He insists, and you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth. You can’t even bring yourself to swallow the food that you chew, you want to throw it all up. He sees you gagging, about to puke all the food that he’s forced you to eat. The food can’t be that bad, could it?

He brings the bowl up to his nose, trying to figure out if something is wrong with the meal. Sure, he tasted it to make sure everything was okay with it, but he held his nose to not taste it. Sukuna can’t stand many things, human food being at the top of his list. He can’t stand the taste, the texture, or even the mere smell of it.

He can’t force you to eat the foods he enjoys, so he guesses he’ll put himself through this pain to get you to finish your meal. He takes a mouthful of the food, and forces himself to chew. He gags as he tastes it. He can’t blame you for not wanting to eat it.

“It should be up to your standards.” Sukuna spits out the food onto the floor, not having the will to swallow it. “You have to make a healthy, strong child.”

“If I continue to eat, I’ll throw it all back up.” You warn him, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. He’ll choose his battles wisely. Uraume told him to be more gentle with you and to listen to you more… He guesses he’ll take their advice.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He finally puts down the utensils, and you let out a sigh of relief. You push the plate of food away from you so the smell doesn’t hit your nostrils. You’re more sensitive than you expected. You’ve dealt with pregnant women before, and you knew that they would get nauseous around certain foods, but never quite like this. Perhaps you’re a special case, which wouldn’t be shocking since Sukuna is everything but normal.

“What do you want to do then?” Sukuna crosses his arms, staring you down. The stare that once made a chill run down your spine, no longer has much of an effect on you. It’s been two weeks since you found out that you’re expecting, and you’ve found out that Sukuna won’t dare to lay a finger on you unless it’s to make your life easier.

“I’ve been reading a book.” You tell him, and he raises his brows. What is that supposed to tell him? It seems that forcing you how to read and write has proven to be useful. It entertains you and Sukuna isn’t forced to do some mundane task in order to keep an eye on you. Sure, he misses action and adrenaline from doing his own vile activities, but in your state, he doubts you can handle watching it.

“So what? Are you staying inside and doing that?” He asks, and you nod in response. He almost scolds you, he wants to hear you use your voice, but he decides against it. You do whatever the fuck you want to do, who is he to say otherwise? Your dumb husband. Sukuna will let you do whatever you want, and treat you higher than himself for as long as you carry his heir.

“I can read out loud so you’re not bored.” You say, and he glares at you. You must be trying to make a fool out of him or something. He keeps repeating in his mind that he won’t yell at you. You’re expecting, he won’t distress you.

“You barely know how to read, keep it to yourself.” He snarks, and you hate to admit it but the comment hurts your feelings. You’re used to his attitude, but your kindness being used to mock you hurts. Perhaps you’re a little sensitive, especially since you know Sukuna– He treats you like a fragile petal, a treatment no one else will ever receive from him.

“I wouldn’t like to read to a grump anyway.” You retort, standing up to walk away but Sukuna grabs you and puts you down on his lap. He stares down at you, pure annoyance in his eyes.

“What did I teach you?” Sukuna snarls, and you purse your lips together. You’ve been getting away with a lot, so it shocks you that he reprimands you for something so simple… Perhaps it’s your insult that’s sent him over the edge.

“I follow you after you leave the table, not the other way around.” You murmur, and you hear him scoff. Your response is correct, your delivery doesn’t delight him though.

“You’ve gotten bratty.” He points out, and in response you dare to roll your eyes. You know you hold something massive over his head, therefore he won’t do anything to you no matter your reaction. He lets go of you, nearly pushing you off his lap, “Go away and read your dumb book. I’ll join you soon.”

“Just stay here, what are you going to do there?” You ask, standing up once again to walk away. Sukuna doesn’t answer, he doesn’t need to. Sure, you’re his wife but he made it clear that you wouldn’t have any sort of control over him. It was something to make you fulfill your duty.

He hears your footsteps as you exit the room, leaving him alone to sink into his annoyance. Annoyance that a group of people will pay for later. Because his feelings don’t just disappear when he’s by your side, he’s still temperamental; the only change is that you don’t pay for your actions, someone else does.

Sukuna guesses you could be acting worse, so he can’t get too upset with you.

He stands up, and walks out of the room to follow behind you. Soon, he won’t be following you but after a miniature version of himself. His heir. The day could not come sooner. He’ll go back to being able to do whatever he wants, and bringing his heir along to witness his atrocious acts. But for all of that to happen, he must put up with you first.

He picked you for a reason, he can deal with you. Perhaps he’s a little lost on how to get you to eat, but he can deal with the rest.

“Sukuna.” You walk out of your room to find Sukuna leaning against the tatami door. He’s shutting his eyes, for the first time ever you’re watching him fall asleep. In your mind, Sukuna never rests.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, he’s there, watching you sleep. A looming gaze watching over you during the dead of night. A sight so scary that it sends shivers down someone’s spine, bearing them unable to move. A sight that you’ve grown accustomed to.

You shouldn’t bother him when he’s falling asleep. You assume he doesn’t get much rest, so maybe you should leave him alone. You just want to go for a short walk before a stressful dinner. It’s the same scenario every night: you can’t stand the smell of the food so you refuse to eat it, and Sukuna tries to shove it down your throat.

You decide not to bother him, getting on your tip toes to try and sneak out of the place without disturbing his ever-so-rare peace. You just need a moment outside, take in a breath of fresh air and walk while you still can. You’re gaining weight faster than you expected, you doubt that you’ll be able to move freely in the next couple of months.

“Where the fuck are you going?” His hand wraps around your ankle, stopping you from taking another step. You’ve been caught red-handed, and from the tone that you pick up in his voice, he’s not particularly happy about it. He stands up, quickly towering over you.

“I just need a breath of fresh air.” You tell him, hoping that he won’t get too mad. Sukuna made it clear that he must be near you at all times. He’s most worried about his delicate baby, he doesn’t need someone potentially harming him. Him, as if you had any way to know the sex of the baby.

“The sun is setting, you can’t.” He’s firm, you shouldn’t dare challenge his authority. Yet, you pout and cross your arms, hoping to get to him. A foolish trick that would never work on Sukuna.

“I’m tired of being inside.” You comment, making him scoff. You should’ve thought about that hours before, not now. You slightly tilt your head to the side before questioning, “Isn’t this place supposed to be safe?”

“You’re a fool to trust anyone here.” He quickly replies, and you click your tongue. “It’s time for you to eat, let’s go.”

“Please, I’m not hungry.” You respond, though it falls on deaf ears. Sukuna picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder before carrying you to the dining room.

“Uraume! Get dinner ready!” He yells, while you kick your feet so he lets you go. Sukuna wants to laugh. Not a scoff, a genuine laugh. You’re so pathetically weak, yet you try to break free from his grasp by kicking him. You’re probably using all of your strength, but it doesn’t feel like anything to him.

He puts you down on the floor of the dining room, and you frown at him as he takes a seat across from you. You’re acting like a child. You don’t want to eat, you’re refusing anything and everything. Your stomach is too sensitive and you absolutely hate the feeling of regurgitation. You never thought you’d hate a feeling as much as you hate that one. But Sukuna doesn’t take your feelings into consideration, as to be expected.

You refuse to speak to Sukuna as you sit across from Sukuna, waiting for your dinner. Typically you’re trying to keep some sort of conversation going, but you’re not in the mood at this moment. Sukuna isn’t going to say anything about it, he enjoys the peace.

Within minutes, your food is in front of you. But neither of you dare touch the plates. Sukuna watches you like a hawk, waiting for you to make the first move on your food.

“Eat.” He orders, but you dramatically turn your head. You refuse. No one is going to make you eat, not even the brutish monster before you. “I ordered you to eat!”

“No.” You keep your voice calm. You keep up your composure. It’s a simple answer that sends him over the edge. Before you know it, he’s reaching over the table and trying to get your mouth open so he can shove food inside.

Your lips are sealed, refusing to let any food into your mouth. He’s trying to get an opening, but you’re not letting him in. He sees tears well up in your eyes, suddenly becoming sensitive about the situation. He shouldn’t care. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. His heir has to eat.

“Fine!” Sukuna ends up letting go, giving up as a tear streams down your cheek. Before he can even blink, you stand up and run out of the place. Sukuna makes sure to follow behind, only to watch you puking the little food that you had in your stomach.

He rolls his eyes, sighing. He has to find a way for you to eat, and apparently the way he just attempted isn’t the right way. Whichever way it is, he has to figure it out soon.

#[bonds of fruition]#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu sukuna

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oddinary4bts · 4 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 14 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of alcohol, a creep at the gym, mentions of Lisa and what happened in the last chapter, cursing, oc and jk finally talk and it hurts, jk gets punched in the face, explicit content: hickey, breast/nipple play, jerking off, oral sex (male and female receiving), hair pulling, ass slapping, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), big dick!Jungkook, creampie

☆word count: 12.2k

☆a/n: someone said more angst? but this time with a true side of hope (maybe). Hope you guys like it <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Wednesday, October 7th

Days have gone by. Weeks, actually - September giving way to October. You’ve been in a daze, going through the first month of the semester in slow motion. You’ve been focusing on classes more, studying in all the free time that you have, when you’re not going to the gym.

You’ve started going to the gym on a regular schedule. Three to four times a week, most of the time accompanied by Yoongi. It’s easy to know why - Yoongi’s got a crush on the guy who works at the reception of the gym. You think it’s good. Yoongi’s allowed to move on from Hoseok, to finally find someone else who is worth his love.

It gives you hope that one day you’ll get that for you too. But you’re not there yet - far from it. You’re still feeling the repercussions of that Friday evening when you foolishly believed you and Jungkook were fixable.

Now you think the whole world lies between you and him, and you doubt anything will ever fix that.

He’s texted you once, since that Friday evening. A few days later, he asked if you wanted to talk. You ignored the message - it was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but it had to be done. Too much pain stands between you and him for you to be able to be with him.

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Like a mantra - you’ve been repeating to yourself that you can’t be with him because he’s Taehyung’s best friend, because it would ruin his friendship. And Jungkook deserves his friends, deserves to move on with Lisa if that’s what he wants to be doing.

You know he’s not. You know that night was the last time he saw Lisa outside of their friend group gatherings. You know because last week you were at the bar with Ria, and you’d somehow ended up at Taehyung’s table. You’d felt Lisa’s scalding gaze on you the whole time, yet she’d remained nice to you, polite like she’d always been.

Jungkook has broken more hearts than just yours after all.

You know they have stopped hanging out because Sera asked Lisa where Jungkook was that night. She answered that she didn’t know, that they’d stopped seeing each other. She’d said so looking at you, as if trying to throw the blame on you, but it’d gone unnoticed to the table.

Perhaps because they were drunk. You wouldn’t know - you’ve stopped drinking since that first party of the semester when everything came crashing down.

You take a long sip from the water bottle you always carry to the gym. You’ve been stretching on the black mats, in the smaller room in the corner that some people also use for yoga. Right now it’s just you and some guy you’ve seen around a couple of times before, and you’ve been trying to ignore the way he keeps looking at you.

You wish there was a gym nearby for women only, but there unfortunately isn’t, so you suffer the stares once in a while, though they aren’t as frequent as you initially thought they would be. Maybe because most of the time you aren’t alone - you think maybe you shouldn’t have come alone today.

Luckily enough you’re almost done, so you just move on to the last stretch, the muscles in your back straining for a few seconds before they relax as you take a deep breath. Once you’re done you stand up, heading to the cleaning station to get some paper that you spray with the cleaning spray, and then you walk back to the mat you used to clean it.

A second later you’re out the door, walking quickly to the women’s locker room.

A glance to your left makes your heart clench in your chest, so hard you think you might be about to go into cardiac arrest.

Jungkook is standing by a squat rack, gaze lowered, yet it’s like he senses you watching. His head immediately raises, and he meets your gaze for half a heartbeat before you look away, walking even faster just so that you don’t have to be in his presence anymore.

You could have chosen another gym. But this one is the cheapest and nearest option from your college, so you decided to still come here, even though you knew you’d see Jungkook once in a while. Luckily enough for you, you’ve been able to figure out his approximate gym schedule, and you’ve avoided the hours that he usually comes here.

Hell, he usually comes in the morning, and it’s almost nine pm.

Though you know the true reason why you’ve chosen this gym. Not that you would admit it to anyone - it just feels reassuring to see Jungkook once in a while, to know that he’s doing okay.

Even if the dark circles under his eyes tell you he might not be doing all that good at all. But you’re not close enough to him anymore to be allowed to care, so each time you just disappear the second you catch sight of him, hoping he doesn’t see you.

Your heart beats out of your chest the whole time you change in the locker room, and you tell yourself you’ll make a beeline for the front doors as soon as you’re out. It’s not as reassuring as you wish it was, and you have to take a few deep breaths before you walk out of the locker room.

A saccharine smile welcomes you outside, and you startle at the sight of the man who had been in the yoga room with you. He’s leaning against the wall, but the second he sees you walking out he pushes up from the wall, folding his arms on his chest.

You hear the distinct sound of alarm bells at the back of your mind as he says, “Hey.”

You swallow, searching for salvation as you glance around the gym, but there’s none to be found.

Jungkook’s not even by the squat racks anymore.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to sound polite.

“I see you here all the time,” the man adds.

You almost gag - you’ve never noticed him before, and the thought that he might have been staring at you multiple times makes you shudder.

“Oh,” you let out.

He smirks, and this time you gulp as you once again scan the gym.

“What’s your name?” the man asks.

Hell, he has to be in his early forties - aren’t there any women his age he could be hitting on instead?

“Sophie,” you reply as quickly as you can, saying the first name that comes to your mind.

“Well, Sophie, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me?”

You gulp. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you feel small, like he’s undressing you with his gaze, and you feel infinitely vulnerable in front of him.

“Huh, sorry, I’m busy tonight,” you say.

You make to walk past him, but he steps to the side, blocking your way. “Come on. I promise we’ll have fun.”

Ew.

“I am busy,” you insist as adrenaline flushes through you.

“Clearly,” the man drawls. “Come on, doll, I promise I’m a good time.”

“Excuse me?” you say, unable to help yourself.

The man laughs, but before he has time to say anything, an arm wraps around your shoulder, and you’re pulled into someone’s side. Your first reaction is to punch, but your hand stops midway as you meet Jungkook’s gaze, and everything fades away until it’s just you and him.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

Your eyes dip to his mouth. Fuck… He’s so close, and you’ve missed him so much, and your heart is reaching out for him, searching for him like it’s been doing for weeks.

“Yes,” you answer, and you don’t dare look at the man as Jungkook pulls you even closer.

“Hey, I was busy here,” the man comments, once again blocking your way.

“Well, this is my girlfriend, and we have plans tonight,” Jungkook says, levelling a glare at the man that you wish to never be on the receiving end of. “So respectfully fuck off.”

You wince, thinking that might aggravate the man. But when Jungkook tilts his head to the side with murder in his gaze, the man rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that awfully sounds like ‘Fucking bitch’. You have half a thought to punch him for it, but Jungkook steers you away, and despite the weeks and months between you, you feel yourself leaning against him.

The early fall night is warm outside, summer days clinging to October like you’re clinging to Jungkook’s waist right now. You don’t even know when you snaked your arm around his waist. You just know you’re holding him just as much as he’s holding you, and though you don’t talk, you hear thousands of confessions lingering in the air.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks softly when you’ve walked away from the gym, towards where you assumed he must have parked his car.

You surprise yourself by blinking back tears at his words, at this revelation that he still cares for you like you care for him.

“Shit,” you let out.

Jungkook lets go of you like he’s the one hurting you, and your arm falls at your side aimlessly as he steps in front of you.

“I’ll make a complaint against him,” he softly reassures you. “So that he can’t work out at this gym anymore.”

You nod, blinking away the tears. You succeed, and you take a deep breath before you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

You don’t think you were ready for the softness, for the yearning that his gaze holds right now. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He smiles, infinitely sadly. “Of course, Y/n. Do you want me to drive you home?”

You’re almost foolish enough to tell him that you already are home, here with him.

“Please,” you say.

He nods. “I’m parked this way.”

You follow him, clutching the straps of the duffel bag you’ve been using for your gym clothes. He’s parked closer than you thought he was, and just a minute later, you’re sitting in his car, and he’s driving you towards the dorms.

The silence is heavy in the car - filled with memories of you and him, and of the breaking that followed. You look at his profile as he drives, and he’s careful not to glance your way, like doing so is admitting maybe you both are still vulnerable for the other.

And you want to speak, want to voice the words haunting you. But you can’t. Not when you chose to not reply to him when he texted you weeks ago. Not when all you can picture is Lisa coming out of the bathroom wearing his shirt, while he stood there, mute, his head hanging low.

So you remain silent, as does he, up until he parks in front of the dorms. You swallow a lump in your throat as you lay a hand on the knob, ready to open the car, but he clears his throat, and your eyes snap to him.

“Do you…” he trails off, toying with his piercings. “Do you think you’ll ever move back home?”

The question is treacherous, a dagger that stabs right through your beating heart.

“I don’t think I can,” you answer in a whisper.

He nods once, not glancing at you. “Okay.” He wets his lips as he takes a deep breath, and then he finally shoots you a quick look. “I’m sorry.”

He truly does look sorry, apologetic, his big doe eyes once again filled with sadness and yearning and so many regrets you think he might be drowning in them.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you offer him a tentative smile. “It’s fun to experience the dorm life a little.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Ria is a fun roommate.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m glad she is.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds longer, and you see he means so much more. You see the longing - it’s reflected in your own eyes. But you can’t be with him, not after all that happened. So you open the door, looking away from him even though it costs your soul to do so.

“Thank you for driving me,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he answers, voice heavy with emotions you don’t want to interpret.

Not when they might crush you with no chance of survival.

“I’ll see you around,” you add as you pick up your duffel bag from where you’d left it at your feet.

“See you around,” he echoes.

You take a deep breath, offer him one last tight-lipped smile, and then you shut the door, turning away from him before he can see the tears pooling in your eyes. Before you can let your heart break again, before you decide to go home with him after all.

Before you can accept that there were tears pooling in his gaze, too.

Thursday, October 10th

You like your Thursdays. You only have a class in the afternoon, and it’s your easiest class this semester, with a professor who genuinely loves what she’s doing and who teaches it grandly. It’s an engaging class, where she makes everyone participate, and though you usually hate those, she always manages to make everyone feel comfortable enough to actually participate.

You wish all your classes were like this, but alas, most of them suck.

But yes, you like your Thursdays. Maybe the sun shining bright on your walk home through campus contributes to it, the slowly-changing leaves in the trees beautiful in their multitudes of colours - some still green, others red, yellow, orange and brown. It makes for a pretty picture, and the warmth from yesterday still lingers around, so much so that numerous students are lounging on the lawn in front of the college, sharing snacks or studying or just taking in the sun while they still can.

Your heart was heavy all night yesterday, keeping you up almost till dawn, but the sun rays are healing today, so much so that the thought of Jungkook doesn’t hurt quite as much.

You get to the dorms with a smile tickling the corner of your lips. You usually head home with Nabi, but she said she wanted to go see Namjoon first, and so she went to his office after your class. So you’re alone when you push the door open, and you’re convinced you’re alone when you close the door behind you, kicking off your shoes.

You only realize Ria is hiding under a pile of blankets when she peeks through, startling you. You jump, ready to throw a punch if needed, and she starts laughing as she pushes the blankets off.

You laugh with her as your heart races in your chest, and you lay a hand on the beating organ to try and calm it.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you let out, and you put your backpack down next to Nabi’s bed - your bed for the last month.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, but you doubt she really is. “I needed this though.”

You slightly furrow your brows, and you only then make out her red nose and puffy, blood-shot eyes. It’s evident that she’s been crying, and your heart sinks in your chest at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, immediately moving closer to her, sitting on her bed close enough that your thigh touches hers through the many blankets.

She shifts to give you more space, and you climb on the bed properly.

“I don’t know, man,” she says, and her voice wobbles as tears fill her eyes again.

You tug her into a hug, and she cries against your chest. You’re mortified - you’ve never seen Ria cry, and there’s something wrong about it, like the sun just rose in the west instead of the east, or like it’s raining upwards. You hate it, and you rub her back soothingly, holding her closer as sobs rock through her.

“I just,” she lets out between two sobs. “He started seeing someone else.”

Oh.

You had an inkling it had to do with Seokjin, but now the confirmation breaks your heart for your friend, for the feelings she refused to admit to herself.

And now she’s too late, much like you were that Friday night when you ran home to Jungkook, hoping you’d be able to confess your love for him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

She raises her head long enough to wipe her cheeks and meet your gaze. “You said this would happen.”

And then she’s sobbing again, and you hold her close, not caring that she’s currently staining your shirt with her tears.

“And the worst part is that she’s so pretty,” Ria continues. “Clearly super smart too. Like obviously she’d be his type, you know.”

She pulls her phone out of the pile of blankets, and the screen turns to life as she angles towards her face. She then hands you her phone, and you see that she’s on a girl’s profile.

“Look at the story,” Ria says.

You click on it, and the picture that comes up is one of Seokjin looking to the side, laughing at something. He looks annoyingly perfect like that, his eye crinkling at the corner in joy.

The picture was also posted only twenty minutes ago, so you know this is fresh.

“How did you find this?” you ask.

Ria plops on her back, sighing dramatically as she looks up at the ceiling and at the glued fluorescent stars that you placed there the week after you moved in.

“He told me he was going on a date,” she admits, her lips jutting out in the hint of a pout.

“Oh?” you press.

“I know,” she grumbles. “Yes, we’ve started talking again.”

You think it’s progress, but you don’t mention it, not wanting to scare her when she’s finally admitting her feelings to herself.

“And he just told you he was going on a date?” you ask.

She nods, and tears well up in her eyes again, though this time she successfully blinks them again. “Yeah, we said we’d be friends? And yesterday he told me about the date, and about who he was going to go with.” Ria pulls one of the blankets over her face, shielding herself from the world. “Fuck, I even helped him pick out what to wear.”

You wince, and you’re glad she can’t see it. “You want to be just friends with him?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I just know that I’ve been stalking the girl obsessively since yesterday, and I saw the story as soon as she posted it.”

“Yikes,” you let out.

“I know,” Ria whines. “I’m such a mess.”

You pat the top of her head that still sticks out from underneath the blanket. “I think this is good.”

She pulls the blanket off her features, glaring at you. “How can you say that?”

“Because you’re finally realizing you have feelings for him, no?”

Her mouth falls open, but she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you as her waterline increasingly becomes wet, and then tears fall onto her cheeks again. You quickly grab a tissue on her bedside table, and then you gently wipe her cheeks as she just keeps staring at you, clearly realizing that you are right.

That she’s in love with Kim Seokjin.

“Shit,” she lets out after a while. “What am I supposed to do?”

You offer her a gentle smile. “You tell him. You tell him before it’s too late and things go any further with the girl.”

“He did say he wasn’t going to stay with her late”, Ria says. “He’s got work at six.”

“So then text him at six, and ask him if he wants to hang out.”

She widens her gaze. “I can’t just do that,” she says.

You tilt your head to the side. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Because I am a fucking mess right now,” she grumbles.

You laugh, patting her head again. And though you agree she does look a mess, you know it’s fixable. Ria is easily the most beautiful person you know - even when she’s crying.

“Then let’s get you ready. Let’s eat something good, do your makeup and all that shit.”

She scrunches up her nose, yet a smile slowly tickles the corners of her lips. “And what do I tell him?”

“You tell him how you feel,” you say, and the parallel between your situation with Jungkook hits you so deep you think you almost fall off the bed. “You tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

“What if it’s already too late?”

What if you get there and he’s already with someone else?

“Then at least you’ll have tried,” you say. “And I’ll be here to comfort you if needed.”

She takes a deep breath, like she’s amassing all the courage in this world, and then she nods once curtly as she sits up. “Then at least I’ll have tried,” she echoes. She smiles, a smile that starts with her eyes and then trickles down to her lips. It’s a smile of hope, of sun after the storm, and you can’t help but reciprocate it even though your circumstances are so much more dire.

Even though you were too late.

“Let’s do it.”

*****

You sit outside, the last of the warmth of the day clinging to the edges of campus. The early fall smells of wet leaves and dirt and lingering sun rays, and you take it all in. It’s relaxing, calming, even though you’re aware you likely shouldn’t be out at this hour of the evening alone.

But Seokjin told Ria he’d come over, and you weren’t going to be the cockblock to their conversation.

You don’t know what you’re doing here. You’re in the park you had to go through last year to get to your apartment, the one where you’d fallen in a puddle of mud on Valentine’s Day, before you’d gotten home and Jungkook saved your pants from the stain.

Before your very first kiss with Jeon Jungkook, the first of a long chain that was only leading up to catastrophe.

Your conversation with Ria keeps replaying in your head. You’re aware her situation with Seokjin isn’t exactly the same as that of you and Jungkook, yet the parallels strike deep tonight, as you sit there in the park that saw the beginning of whatever it is that you and Jungkook were.

You were too late. At least that’s what you’ve been repeating to yourself for hours. Indeed, when you’d gone home that Friday night, he’d been with Lisa. It’d been proof that he was moving on, that he might have liked you one day but doesn’t anymore.

But then again, you’ve seen him wither - from a distance, obviously. You’ve heard what his friends say about him. How he’s been isolating himself, playing video games and just focusing on college. Because he has to live up to his father’s expectations - at least that’s what Jimin said when you were at the bar, and you learned that Jungkook and Lisa were over.

But you’ve seen him wither like a flower in the fall. His eyes growing heavier, his back never fully straight anymore like he can’t bear the weight that was placed on his shoulders. Or maybe that’s the effect that you have on him, and when you’re not around, he’s okay.

You really hope he is. At least then one of you wouldn’t be dying, breaking and breaking all over again whenever you think about everything that went down between you and him.

You wish he’d told you about Gabrielle. You wish he hadn’t held that promise, but then again it shows that Jungkook will do anything for those he cares about.

Like intervene when some creep is harassing you at the gym. Like driving you home to the dorms even though the atmosphere was tinted with bittersweet pain, with the memories of when you’d laughed in that same car on the way to New York.

Memories of when you’d given him a blow job after that party because you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

Then again, you reckon the memories of you and Jungkook aren’t confined to his car. They’re everywhere, because for months he’d followed you around everywhere, always in your heart.

Not that he’s left your heart. There’s still a hole shaped like him where he used to be, and nothing you’ve done has been able to do anything about it.

No, everything always leads back to him - even your friends falling in love anew leads you back to him, to the memories of when he’d whispered sweet nothings against your skin in the middle of the night. Of when he’d told you to sleep in his bed if you missed him - did he ever notice that you did? That you slept in his clothes, that you clung to him even though you’d told him that you were over?

Your heart breaks anew, always. It shatters like you’ve barely repaired it, and you know you haven’t. Hell, he’s always haunting you, like he’s the ghost haunting the hallways of your life.

You know he is. Because everything always leads back to him. Every conversation that you have reminds you of him, and you wish you could be Ria. Wish it wasn’t too late for you, wish Jungkook wasn’t Taehyung’s friend.

You wish that you didn’t care about all of that, that you could just go back to your apartment right now and tell Jungkook every secret you’ve carried in the nights you spent with him. You wish you could just say everything without holding anything back. Not because you wish that he was yours - no, only because you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on if you don’t get the closure you never got with him.

Because there always were more words lingering in the air, more truths untold that hid in the deepest corners of your hearts, both yours and his.

There always were, but should there still be?

Can you just go up to him tonight and say everything, not caring about the consequences?

Isn’t that the advice you just gave to Ria?

You’re up before you’ve fully registered the thought. Before you realize that you’ve come to a certain catharsis sitting there tonight, as your friend confesses her love to the one she might be too late to have.

Your feet know the way, following that same trail you’ve walked a hundred times before, if not more. And your steps are sure, confident, like you haven’t spent months breaking yourself over him.

But you’re done breaking. You want healing, you want the sun to pierce the clouds that have been covering the land of your mind. You want some happiness, you want, like Yoongi, to be able to move on. You foolishly want, like Ria, to be able to tell Jungkook how you feel.

And so what if it impacts his friendship with Taehyung? You have a feeling the friendship’s already been impacted by Jungkook’s shattered heart.

You owe him to be able to heal, too.

You’re in front of the apartment, standing at the bottom of the short flight of stairs, all of ten minutes later. Looking up at the door, remembering when a paradise of you and Jungkook awaited you behind it.

Now, you think it’s hell on Earth awaiting you, but maybe there’s solace to be found in confronting the reason for the jagged pieces of your heart.

It occurs to you then that Taehyung and Ariane might be home, that they might end up being witnesses to something you so wish could be just yours and Jungkook’s.

You’ve had enough of Taehyung being at the back of your mind whenever it comes to Jungkook.

“Y/n?”

You startle for the second time that day, though this time you jump so high you think you might have jumped out of your skin.

Jungkook is standing to your left, gym bag in hand, and he looks at you with questions in his eyes, like he too can’t believe he gets to speak to you again in just a few days.

“Hey,” you let out.

He chews on his piercings, big doe eyes not leaving you. He doesn’t even blink, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he does so.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks.

You smile softly, and your heartbeats don’t hurt as much as they usually do. Like this is where you were supposed to be tonight, after the gentleness of the afternoon.

Before your conversation with Ria, that is.

“Are Tae and Ari home?” you ask, not replying to his question.

He takes it in stride, taking a few steps towards you, though he stops at a safe distance from you. “No. Everyone’s out to the movie theatre right now.”

“Right now?” you echo.

He nods once. “They’re going to the ten pm show because Sera was working at the library until nine.”

Which means you have hours of blessed alone time with Jungkook to talk to him. You can’t help it - you look up to the sky, and watch the blindingly bright moon that reigns up there.

“Good,” you say.

He takes another step towards you, and you meet his gaze again, offering him another smile. He looks at it like it’s foreign, like he hasn’t spent months tangled up with you in his bed or yours, in New York City or here.

“Why are you here?” he asks again, his voice lower this time. Softer, gentler, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

“Can we talk?”

His gaze widens almost unnoticeably, and his lips part like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. He closes his mouth, gulps, and then says, “Sure, let’s go in.”

You end up following behind him, as he already had the keys in one hand. The apartment hasn’t changed at all since the last time you were here - since that Friday night Lisa walked out of the bathroom - and it’s just as warm and homey as you remember it to be.

Even more so as Jungkook kicks off his shoes, putting his gym bag down by the door as he eyes you carefully.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.

You reckon you could be fully honest right now. You could tell him how you feel, you could say you fell in love all those months ago despite the odds working against you. You could say everything, yet you don’t want to jump into it right away. You want to enjoy this moment with him - it might be your very last after all.

“How have you been?” you query as you take your shoes off.

He pulls on his piercings and then glances to his right. “Do you want to sit while we talk?”

You nod, and a moment later you’ve moved to the kitchen, and you’re pouring a glass of water for you and him from the filtered pitcher in the fridge.

You put his glass down in front of him, and he looks at it like it too is foreign to him. Like your kindness is a stranger, and you think maybe it is.

Maybe after telling him you were over in Paris, your kindness died in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, and he takes a long sip of water as you sit down next to him.

In the chair to his right, much like you’d been on Valentine’s Day.

“So?” you ask, and he cocks an eyebrow in question.

Gosh… the circles underneath his eyes seem darker, and there’s a hollowness to his cheeks that you didn’t really notice before. Maybe he hasn’t been eating enough, the heartbreak stealing his appetite much like it’d stolen yours.

Did he really care this much about you?

“So what?” he lets out.

“How have you been?”

He doesn’t like the question. You can see it in the way he tenses, in the way his shoulders hunch forward even more like he’s trying to protect himself.

“I’ve been okay,” he replies.

You get it. You don’t deserve the truth, not after all the distance between the two of you.

“You?” he adds after a few seconds.

You take a deep breath, looking away from him to glance down at the glass on the table between your hands. “I haven’t been doing all that great,” you admit. “Not too bad, but not too great, you know?”

He looks apologetic when you meet his gaze, yet he nods his head in understanding. “Yeah.”

There’s a silence, like maybe the crevice really is too large for him to hear you from your side. But you don’t want it to be that way - you’ll leap over the crevice if you have to, but you want to tell Jungkook everything.

You need it, or you’ll never be able to heal.

“I…” you trail off, and you take another deep breath, trying to find the courage that invaded you while you were at the park.

It seems like it left you empty now that you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and you hate it.

You hate everything that made it so that it’s now awkward between you and Jeon Jungkook.

“You what?” he presses gently.

You take a sip of water. “I wanted to talk about us.”

Your words fall between you and him, so loud you think they might have pierced your eardrums.

Jungkook just looks at you in silence and then looks around himself. “What if Tae comes home?”

“Jungkook, I don’t care if Taehyung comes home right now,” you say, and you find yourself fighting sudden tears. “I’m so tired.”

He murmurs your name, and some part of you yearns for the way he’d used to call you peach, teasingly yet softly like it was the most beautiful word in his dictionary.

“We never told each other how we felt,” you continue, realizing that you maybe should have rehearsed something before deciding to come here, if only so that you wouldn’t look stupid right now. “We spent months together and yet…” You pause, and he too remains silent, like he’s so startled by the conversation that he’s entirely mute now.

“Yet we never said anything about how we felt,” you add. “That’s why I came home that night.”

You hope he knows which one you’re referring to, and it seems like he does. His big doe eyes fill with the same sorrow you know is in yours, and he says, “I’m so sorry.”

It hurts. It hurts far too much for you to be able to breathe, and you look up to the ceiling, furiously blinking away tears. “For what?” you ask.

“For not telling you about Gabrielle,” he says. “For thinking that my promise to her was more important than what you and I had.”

“It destroyed my trust in you…” you admit, voice smaller than the drop of condensation rolling down your glass right now.

“I know,” he answers. “I’ve been hating myself for it for months.”

You hadn’t expected this much truth from him, so quickly. Not when months have passed without you exchanging more than just a few surface-level sentences.

Not when just a moment ago, he’d lied and told you he’s been doing okay.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“Don’t tell me what I should do or not do,” he fires back, so softly you barely hear him. “I’ve been going insane, Y/n.”

“Jungkook…”

“You want to know how I felt?” he asks, and there’s sudden anger in his tone, dripping from his every syllable. “You want to know how it felt when I was in Paris and had to pretend that I wasn’t in love with you so that your brother didn’t get upset?” You barely register the confession - he barely leaves you time to register it as he adds, “I was fucking ruined. I hate lying, and I had to lie about you to my best friend because you asked me to.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off. “I just wanted us to tell him together.”

“And it led to that fucking shitshow with Gabrielle,” he says, ignoring your intervention. “If I’d been able to tell her we were together, she would have never kissed me. And she only did it because she didn’t want people to know that she’s gay.” He scoffs. “Which is frankly stupid because we’re in 2024 and if her parents don’t approve of her then they can fuck right off.”

You don’t say anything to that, mostly because you think that’s a conversation he has to have with her, and not with you.

“And then you dumped me, you refused to trust me, and I fucking got lost in Paris until I had to call Gaby for help. And I told her everything then, because what was the point of holding back?”

It’s like there was a dam inside of Jungkook, and you coming here tonight burst it open, words cascading out of his mouth like they can’t be stopped.

Like he took the time to rehearse what he wanted to tell you if he ever got the chance to.

“I didn’t dump you,” you say when the silence stretches for a few seconds. “We were never together.”

“Right.” Jungkook chuckles so dryly that you think you might have just fallen into the Sahara desert. “Because of your brother, right?”

“Why are you so mad?” you ask, feeling your own temper flaring despite the fact that you’d meant to come here and tell him about the love that bears his name in your chest.

“Because, Y/n, I’ve been fucking miserable for months,” Jungkook says, voice raising. “Because I went back to New York to have my whole family laugh at me when they realized we weren’t together anymore. Because I was forced to officially become the heir of JJS because my brother chose to open his own company. Because the one time I thought maybe I should try to move on you decided to come barging in and you saw everything.”

“You’re blaming me for coming here that Friday?” you ask in disbelief. “Fuck, Jungkook, I lived here.”

“You were already out,” he points out.

“So that gave you the right to just fuck another girl?”

He rolls his eyes, sighing deeply. “See, it pissed me off when you ignored the text I sent you after that, but now I realize that it might have been for the best.”

You don’t answer anything, not when your heart aches so fiercely. You don’t think there’s any fight left in you - there barely had any to begin with. You didn’t think you’d fight with him tonight, didn’t plan for it to lead here, yet here you sit, watching his features contorted in rage he must have kept bottled up for weeks.

It occurs to you then that Jungkook doesn’t love you anymore. That the feelings festered, turned to a much uglier feeling you don’t want to name right now.

“Why?” you ask. “Why was it for the best?”

“Because we can’t fucking be together, Y/n. Because it never was about Paris, it never was about Gaby and Lisa.” He pauses as silver lines his gaze, but he blinks it away. “Because it’s always been about Taehyung, right? You never would have dated me because of Taehyung.”

“You know,” you let out, and you scoff, shaking your head. “I was coming here tonight to tell you that I fell in love with you last semester. But shit was I fucking wrong for that.” Your voice becomes louder as you keep going until you’re practically screaming in his face. “Yes, because of Taehyung. Yes, you’re right. What happened in Paris never mattered. It was always about how we couldn’t be together because of Tae.”

He’s stunned silent, and he just looks at you as you clench your jaw, taking a deep breath. You’re trying to staunch the flow of your anger, of the tears that threaten to spill on your cheeks, but it quickly occurs to you that you’re not going to win the fight.

You get up so quickly the chair almost falls behind you, and you storm out of the kitchen as the first tear falls.

“Y/n,” Jungkook says behind you, and he’s up and out of the kitchen a second later.

You try to put your shoes on, yet they blur behind the tears in your gaze.

“Y/n,” Jungkook says again, louder this time.

Maybe because he’s closer, or because he actually spoke louder. You don’t know, don’t care.

All you want is to flee the scene before he sees the ugliness of your broken heart.

You manage to put your first shoe on, but Jungkook bends down and picks up the other one before you can put it on.

“Give that back,” you say, and you angrily dry the tears on your face with the back of a hand.

“No,” he says.

“I fucking hate you,” you practically scream, and Jungkook drops the shoe.

He smiles softly.

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t know who makes the first move. Don’t know how or why or when, but Jungkook cradles your face as you grab a handful of his sweater to hold him close. His lips hit yours so hard you think you taste blood, and he pushes you back against the door to deepen the kiss.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to play with his piercings once, and he grunts as he drives his knee between your legs, then thinks better of it and picks you up. He holds you up against the door, his mouth moving in time with yours, languidly. It’s soul-destroying, like he’s wiping everything you were clean so that you can start anew.

You want it to be that. You want this kiss to be born of feelings and not anger, of the love you both had for each other.

You want it to be born out of the love you were so afraid of that you kept finding reasons to keep it locked away. Because he is right - you always used Taehyung as an excuse to keep Jungkook a safe distance away.

Not that he was any better. He was doing the same thing, up until he wasn’t. Up until he told you he’d tell Taehyung everything in Paris, and suffer the consequences. You were the one then to tell him to wait, and today you know it was a mistake.

Today, you know you shouldn’t have waited before calling Jeon Jungkook yours. Because it allowed him to slip through your fingers, and you don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself for it.

Jungkook’s tongue meets yours, and you let out a breathy sound as his hands rove your body, up and down your sides like he can’t choose a spot to linger on. Yours are lost in his hair - you’re already pulling at the strands just the way you know he likes. And he’s quick to react, to suck on your tongue, teeth teasing it. It steals a moan from the confines of your chest, and Jungkook grunts as he pulls away.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll let you leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Your hands move down until they cup his cheeks, and you gently swipe your thumb on his soft skin. “Kiss me again,” you whisper.

“Fuck,” he curses and then adds your name at the end.

His mouth is ravishing yours again a second later, and this time, you know nothing will stop you. Nothing can stop you - not when you’ve been craving his touch for so long.

Jungkook carries you towards his bedroom, disconnecting from your lips so that he can look where he’s going over your shoulder. He’s about to push the door open when you have a flash of Lisa here, and you tense in his hold.

He immediately stops moving, glancing at you to meet your gaze.

“Can we go in my room?”

He nods yes, and you peck his lips once before he starts walking again.

Your room is dark and cold when he pushes the door open, yet he drops you on the bed all the same. You watch as he bends down to plug the string of fairy lights into the outlet, and a second later the room is bathed in a soft glow that reminds you of nights with him, of falling in love until you didn’t make sense without him anymore.

You don’t. You don’t make sense without Jungkook.

He takes off his sweater, revealing planes of honey skin you’ve missed far too much, his tiny dark nipples perked from the cold. That reminds you of the power outage, of the first time you’d been with Jungkook like this, right in this room.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, yet you know that he missed you too. It’s in his eyes, in the way he looks at you so adoringly, and in the way he climbs on top of you so that he can kiss you again, slower this time.

Like tonight, time has stopped, and you can enjoy him eternally.

You kiss him back, putting all the feelings in your chest in the motion of your lips against the softness of his. Your hands find his warm skin, and you caress his back as you kiss and kiss, as his tongue gently traces your mouth and finds your own tongue.

He pulls away a few seconds later, only to move down until he’s sucking a mark on your neck. It takes you by surprise, and you moan as you pull at his hair. He resists for a few seconds, keeps sucking on your skin until he’s sure to have left a hickey behind, and then he finally meets your gaze.

The darkness in his eyes hints at barely concealed lust, which you reciprocate as you wrap your legs around his dainty waist, forcing him to grind on you.

You’re not surprised in the slightest to find him already hard.

“I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight,” Jungkook says, voice low. “You’ve driven me crazy.”

“Don’t be gentle,” you challenge.

He doesn’t need to hear more before he’s crashing his mouth on yours again, with none of the previous softness. It’s rough, claiming, like he wants you to know that you’re his, and that you’ve always been his. He pulls at your bottom lip, sucks on it as he runs a hand down your side and under your shirt, and he brings it up until he cups your breast, searching your nipple through your bra.

He lets out a frustrated sound when he doesn’t manage to find it right away, and he pushes your bra up until it lies over your breasts and his digits finally find the sensitive nipple.

He pinches it, hard enough to earn a pained moan from you, and he moves his head to your neck, lapping at the mark he already put there.

“Tell me to stop anytime and I’ll stop,” he says, voice gravelly and husky and so unlike the softness that clung to him earlier.

It turns you on far more than you thought it would.

“Okay,” you say.

He smirks against your neck, and then he nibbles at your earlobe before kneeling between your legs. “Take off your shirt.”

You nod, sitting up as much as you can. He helps you get rid of the fabric - it’s a college sweater you got last fall - and he throws it to the floor.

Your bra follows soon - you think he’s about to kiss you again when he stills, eyes going wide as he looks at your exposed breasts, and then up at your face.

“You’ve been wearing the necklace?” he asks, and the softness is back in full force, making you think that it might have actually never left.

“I haven’t taken it off once,” you admit with a small, vulnerable voice.

“Fuck…” he trails off. “Fuck, Y/n.”

You wish he’d called you peach, but you think there might be another moment for it, a better moment.

You think this might not be goodbye.

He kisses you again, soft for a few seconds before he claims your mouth again. A few more seconds later he’s moving down your frame, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples while he plays with the other. You moan softly, hands looking for purchase on your bed until you decide better and lose them in his silk-soft hair again.

He circles your nipple with his tongue, flicks it once before sucking, and then moves to the other one, giving it the same treatment. He teases your breasts like that for a little longer, like he’s trying to remember every curve of you, and then he goes even lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen up until he reaches the band of your pants.

He hooks his thumbs in your pants as if he might try to rip them off your body, but he lets go instead, kneeling between your legs.

“You know,” he lets out, and he palms himself through his pants. “I want to feel you tonight.”

You reach between the two of you as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “I want to feel you too.”

His fingers run up your side, finding your bird tattoo. He traces it lightly, then meets your gaze and says, “You got a new tattoo.”

You nod.

“I love it.”

You don’t have time to say thank you before he’s crashing his lips on yours once more, stealing the words from your mouth. He doesn’t linger there for long - a second later he’s kneeling between your legs again, unbuttoning your pants. He helps you out of the fabric, dropping it on the floor with your sweater. He leaves your panties on - his eyes darken with lust at the wet spot you know already stains the lilac fabric between your legs.

“Shit,” he curses lowly, and he runs a thumb over the wet spot. “You’re so wet.”

You gulp, holding his gaze as you nod once. “Do something about it.”

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

You watch him as he gets up, taking off the rest of his clothes. Soon, he stands in all his glory, fisting his dick a couple of times as you take in the sight.

“Come here,” Jungkook says, motioning for you to sit on the side of your bed.

Your bed is low enough so that his dick is almost at eye level, and he taps it on your lips as you look up at him.

You know what he wants. Yet you resist, your hands gripping his thighs hard enough for your nails to dig into his skin just a little. He winces, tapping your mouth again, and you feel some of his precum on your lips.

You lick it clean, and then you give a tentative lick to the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Actually, I don’t even think you should-”

You interrupt his sentence by taking his dick in your mouth, sucking hard as you tease it with your tongue. Jungkook moans out a curse, and you don’t give him time to say anything else before you grab the base of his dick so that you can jerk him off in time with the back and forth of your head.

It’s sloppy, drool slipping out of your mouth and dripping from your chin. You don’t care - you use it to jerk him off better, faster, and Jungkook throws his head back, the muscles on his abdomen shifting under his skin.

You cup his balls, massaging them with a light touch as you keep on sucking him, your eyes slowly watering every time he hits the back of your throat. Jungkook just lets you do it, doesn’t take control, and your pussy drips and drips, soaking your panties.

You’re so horny for him, even with all the history between you.

Even though you’re not sure if this is goodbye.

Jungkook suddenly pulls your head back by the hair, hard enough for your scalp to burn. A string of spit still connects his dick to your mouth, and you lick it clean as he looks down on you, breathing heavily.

“Get on all fours,” he orders, and he lets go of your hair so that you can move.

Though you’re usually a brat, you don’t dare disobey right now, so you move until you’re positioned like he asked you to. He slaps your ass, and your skin tingles as he massages the spot, bending down to press a kiss on your spine.

He moves between your legs now, pushing your panties to the side so he can lick a long stripe from your clit to your entrance, dipping his tongue inside once before he straightens.

“Think you can already take me?” he asks, and he rubs his tip on your clit.

You moan unabashedly loudly, hiding your face in a pillow. He keeps rubbing his dick on you, never sliding it in, and you eventually look back towards him.

“Just be slow at first,” you tell him, heart beating out of your chest with all your desire for him.

He massages your ass again. “Don’t think you can take it?” he teases.

You swallow, letting out a breathy sound as he rubs on your clit again. “I just…” you trail off, and you grip the sheets as if that’ll help you concentrate. “I haven’t had sex since April.”

Jungkook freezes behind you, his cock still pressed on you. You meet his gaze and fall in the depths of his eyes.

You’ve always been falling for him anyway.

He bends down, finding your mouth despite the awkwardness of the position. You kiss softly, yet you’re painfully aware of his tip nudging your entrance, yet never sliding in. And though you’re also painfully aware he hasn’t put a condom on yet, you reach behind you, grabbing his dick to hold it in place as you push back, until he’s finally sliding in.

He’s huge. You think he’s even bigger than before, and you moan out his name as he slips in slowly, one inch at a time. You feel every vein, every ridge, his dick spearing you open until you’re full with him, stretched so wide open you see stars.

You both don’t move once he’s fully embedded inside of you, your walls clenching around him by instinct. His breathing is ragged, and he leans his forehead on the side of your face, pecking your cheek once as he gives you time to adjust to the impressive size of him.

“Let’s stay here forever, mmh?” he murmurs.

“Kook…”

“You know,” he whispers softly, and he slowly pulls back only to push back in roughly, his balls slapping on your clit. “I’ve been imagining fucking you raw.” He pulls back, pushes back in. “A whole fucking lot.” Another back and forth of his hips, and he hits so hard you move forward on the bed. “And I gotta admit -” skin slaps against skin - “that the real thing doesn’t compare to my imagination.”

He straightens, and then he starts pounding into you so hard all you can do is hold onto the sheets and moan his name.

He’s right though - you feel him a thousand times more than you’ve ever felt him before, the lack of a condom rendering the act oh so sinful. And though you’re aware it might be a dumb idea, you too just want to feel all of him. To be just one - your bodies linked in the most intimate of ways.

Jungkook pulls out, flipping you on your back. You’re dizzy for half a second, but then you meet his gaze, right as he thrusts forward in one swift motion, impaling you on his cock. You moan as he grunts, his eyebrows bunched together over his eyes in what you know is pleasure. He’s sucking on his piercings, and he looks so hot you just want more of him.

“Harder,” you beg.

He laughs lightly, sounding out of breath. “Fuck.”

But he gives in to your desire, fucking you hard enough so that he’s the only thing you can think of. Your room is filled with the squelching sounds that your pussy makes each time he thrusts forward and with the slapping of his skin against yours; his grunts and your breathy sounds form a melody meant for your ears only, and you feel a knot slowly tightening in your core. Your hands have shifted to his muscular thighs at some point, and your nails dig into his skin, making him hiss.

He leans forward, locking you between his arms as he slows down the rhythm, yet keeps it just as rough. His lips find yours, and you taste the light sheen of sweat on his upper lip as he kisses you languidly, his tongue easily finding yours.

You think the kiss slows time. It slows time until every moment feels like forever, until each of his thrusts last a light year. You feel infinite - you are infinite, as long as he’s with you. It’s a beautiful feeling, one that swells in your chest gently until your heart bursts with warmth for him, with all the feelings you’ve been trying to repress for months.

With all the feelings you’ve been trying to repress since that first time you saw him, running into him outside of the apartment. Since that first time he called you peach - and all the times following that.

You’ve been in love with Jeon Jungkook for a lot longer than you ever wished to admit to yourself, but there’s nothing scary about it. Not when you know he feels the same. And if this is goodbye, if this moment is to be your last, you know it will always be your favourite ending.

Because if the world was ending now, you know you’d die happy.

Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. Your nails trace idle forms on his back, digging in whenever he thrusts forward, and you’re full of him, oh so full of him.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “I missed you so fucking much.”

The revelation steals your breath, as does the rapid rhythm he establishes next. The new angle feels sinfully good, the weight of his body on yours is entrancing, and the knot that was slowly forming in your core tightens to a breaking point.

“I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Come for me, peach,” Jungkook urges you on, and you moan, hiding your face in his neck.

You come the second he reaches between you to press circles on your clit. And you come hard, vision flashing white as you let out a broken moan, clinging to Jungkook for dear life. He’s a grunting mess, cursing under his breath.

“That’s it, peach, you’re doing so good,” he praises, and his voice is breathy, whiny, the only indication that he’s about to follow you and climax too.

Your pussy clenches hard around his dick, and Jungkook stills deep inside of you, his dick twitching. But he’s not coming yet, like he’s trying to keep it in.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asks.

Your hands climb up his side, nails scratching him, and then you lose them in his hair again, lightly tugging on the strands. Your orgasm steals your thoughts, your words from your brain, bliss sweeping through you and leaving you on a cloud of ecstasy. “In,” you breathe out.

“I don’t think -” his words are cut off by a soft moan as your walls clench around him, your orgasm not fully done yet. “That’s a good idea,” he finishes.

“I have an IUD,” you remind him, even though it’s hard to form sentences when your mind is swimming in such bliss.

You bite at his neck, lightly, and then suck on the spot. Jungkook doesn’t need more to resume his hard thrusts, and you think you’re insane.

You and him. Both of you have gone insane, and he’s coming a second later as he pushes all the way in, moaning in your ear as you praise him softly. He paints your insides white, shooting spurts and spurts of cum deep inside of you as he clings to you and you cling to him. His climax lasts for a long time, and he’s shaking by the time he’s done.

“Holy fuck,” he lets out, and he chuckles lightly as he pecks your neck.

“Felt good?” you ask, your arms tightening around him.

“Fuck yeah.” He sucks on your neck lazily, earning a breathy sound from you. “You?”

“It always feels good with you, Kook,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply anything, but he nuzzles his face in your neck, the proximity and the intimacy of the action meaning more than words. You gently caress his back, feeling his muscles shifting under his skin as he takes a deep breath, and then he lifts his head to meet your gaze.

“I think we still need to talk,” he says with a gentle voice. “But thank you for this.”

You swallow a sudden lump in your throat, nodding once. “We do.”

He seems conflicted for a time, like he doesn’t want to move but knows he has to, and you cup his cheek, swiping your thumb over the small scar he has there. It brings a soft smile to his lips, though you aren’t fooled.

It doesn’t meet his eyes.

He sighs, and then he glances at your night table, clearly looking for some tissues. There’s none in sight, and he meets your gaze again.

“Huh…” He chuckles again. “What should we do…” he trails off, his eyes dipping downwards between your two bodies.

“Right,” you let out, and your cheeks burn. “I can try to put my hand?”

He nods. “I’ll go get toilet paper.”

Once you’ve both agreed to the plan, Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You immediately feel his cum dripping out of you, staining your sheets even though you try to stop the flow with your hand. Jungkook just looks at the sight, the tip of his ears reddening, and then he quickly puts his pants on so that he can go get something to clean you up with.

He comes back a moment later with toilet paper, and he starts cleaning you up, eyes solely focused on the task at hand. His moves are sweet and caring, and your heart feels far too warm for your own good. Indeed, his shoulders are too tense to mean anything good.

Or maybe he’s regretting blowing up in your face earlier. You don’t mind it - you’re glad he was able to get the words out, as they’ve clearly been weighing on him.

Jungkook finishes by wiping your hand as clean as possible with the toilet paper, and then he throws it away in the bin near your desk. He sits back down on the side of your bed, glancing at you as you remain lying down, not truly processing everything that happened yet.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Jungkook asks.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “What time is it?”

“Ten forty-five.”

Which means you definitely still have plenty of time left before Taehyung and Ariane come home.

“Yes, I’d love to take a shower,” you say, accepting his offer with a soft smile.

He reciprocates it, but it still doesn’t meet his eyes.

Have any of his smiles reached his eyes in the last few months?

The question spins in your head incessantly as you shower, Jungkook next to you. There’s heaviness surrounding him - it’s in the way his motions are slow, subdued, and in the way he doesn’t look you in the eyes, fully. It’s in the lines on his forehead, between his eyes, and the sadness that lingers on his features.

You haven’t been doing too good in the last few months either, but you had your friends. And you realize then and there that Jungkook isolated himself from everyone, some part of him likely always feeling like Taehyung was responsible for your falling out.

You can imagine the resentment he feels towards Taehyung for it, and how difficult it was to remain friends with him.

Jungkook wraps you in a thick towel once you both finally step out of the shower, and you take a moment to dry yourself, enjoying the silence preceding the conversation you know you need to have. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind it, like he too wants a moment of calm before the storm.

And you know the storm is about to hit hard. It’ll likely break you, throw all remaining pieces of you to the four corners of the Earth.

But you don’t care - the storm can hit as hard as it wants, as long as you’re with Jungkook when it does.

“I can’t believe you’ve been wearing the necklace,” Jungkook whispers.

He was quicker than you - he’s all dry, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants. He hasn’t put a shirt on, and your eyes travel the planes of his body, heating up your cheeks.

“I haven’t taken it off once,” you admit. “I’ve kept the letter, too.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I was embarrassed about it for a while,” he admits, and his gaze drops to the floor.

You’re done drying yourself, and you hang the towel behind the door, before facing Jungkook again. He hands his shirt - a white flag waved between the two of you - and the familiarity of the act makes tears pool in your eyes.

You hesitate for a few seconds, but then you grab his shirt, putting it on. It’s just as comfortable as it was months ago when you’d worn it to sleep every night, and you want to reach for Jungkook, to hold him close and never let go.

“Thank you,” you say, words choked by the lump you force down with a swallow. “Why were you embarrassed?” you ask.

Jungkook pulls at his piercings, meeting your gaze for a few seconds. “Because I thought you might text me. I hoped you would, honestly. But you never did.”

Your heart aches, and you have to shut your eyes to prevent it from burning into ashes. “I’m sorry.”

You are. You truly are - you’d just believed then that the letter meant goodbye. That you had to let Jungkook go at all costs, even if it meant shattering your heart and his in the process.

“Ah,” he lets out, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

But you know he’s lying. It’s written in every defeated angle of his body, and you want to take all of the months back, to save your relationship before it went up in flames.

He sighs, meeting your gaze. “Do you want to sit in your room to talk?”

You reckon it’s a good idea - you don’t think you want the bathroom to be the scene of this conversation. So you nod your head, and Jungkook reaches for the doorknob, pushing the door open.

Pushing the door open to reveal a wide-eyed Taehyung, who looks between Jungkook and you a couple of times while you just stand there, the shirt you’re wearing way too incriminating.

You watch the storm as it hits in real-time. And it hits harder than you ever imagined it could, Taehyung’s fist colliding with Jungkook’s face before you’ve even truly had time to register that he was about to punch Jungkook.

Jungkook staggers back as you shriek, “Tae!”, but Taehyung’s already readying for his next punch. You immediately pull Jungkook behind you, standing between him and your brother as Taehyung’s cheeks turn red with rage.

“You’re fucking my sister,” Taehyung hisses, and it’s a statement, the dots irreparably connected in his head.

Jungkook touches his cheek, and you look over your shoulder just long enough to see that it tore from the force of the blow, and blood is slowly seeping out.

“I’m not fucking your sister,” Jungkook replies, his voice flat.

Taehyung chuckles bitterly, but you speak before he can, “I’m an adult, Tae, I can fuck whoever I want.”

“Yeah, of course,” Taehyung drawls. “So you had to fuck my best friend, huh?”

“We’re not fucking,” Jungkook says again, and you slightly frown as you glance at him over your shoulder.

But he isn’t looking at you, eyes fully focused on Taehyung. And then you understand, pain crashing all of your nerves like lightning just struck you.

Jungkook is choosing Taehyung over you.

“Is that why she’s wearing your shirt?” Taehyung asks, and he shakes his hand, the only indication that his knuckles likely hurt from the blow to Jungkook’s face. “You really think I’m fucking stupid or something.”

This time Jungkook remains entirely silent.

“Tae, it started last semester,” you say, scrambling for words to tame the storm before it destroys everything.

That makes Taehyung laugh, though the sound is scary, dangerous. “Last semester? So I ask you to take care of my sister, and you start fucking her?”

“I was taking care of her,” Jungkook replies in a similar icy tone, putting emphasis on the ‘was’.

Because you are a construct of the past now, aren’t you?

You shudder with the realization, the pain overtaking everything. You barely hear Taehyung as he tells Jungkook to fuck off, that he can’t believe he ever called him his friend. All you feel is your heart as it shatters, all over again. As Jungkook tells Taehyung to calm down, that they can talk it out.

But Taehyung is having none of it, his face mottled with red from his anger.

“Stop!” you scream as they just keep going on and on, and they both surprisingly fall silent. “Fucking stop, will you? Who cares if Jungkook and I slept together?”

You. You do, but you can’t say it.

“Jimin knew,” Taehyung says, voice low. “Jimin knew and you fucking gaslit him.”

“I did what your sister asked of me, and clearly she was right if that’s how you’re reacting,” Jungkook fires back.

“Stop,” you add, though this time it’s more of a beg. “Stop, the two of you.” You face Taehyung, nails digging into your palms as you clench your fists. “I fell in love with Jungkook. I just did, and it happened naturally, and it was reciprocated.” You don’t dare use the present tense. Not when you’re coming to the conclusion that the story truly ended last semester.

What happened tonight doesn’t change that. Because Taehyung is here now, proving every insecurity that you ever had.

“And yes, we had something, but it ended last semester too,” you add, and you hope you won’t shatter too much of Jungkook when you conclude, “Tonight was a lapse of judgment.”

You feel the cold radiating from Jungkook behind you the second the words are out. You don’t even dare look at him as Taehyung says, “Jungkook, I think you should find somewhere else to stay for a couple of days.”

“Tae, come on,” you let out. “Can we just be adults?”

“Sounds good,” Jungkook replies, ignoring you.

He walks around you, and you try to grab his wrist, but he’s quick to shrug off your touch.

“Jungkook,” you say, tears pricking at your eyes.

He doesn’t look back on his way to his bedroom, and you follow after him, knocking your shoulder with Taehyung’s on the way.

“Jungkook,” you repeat, and he disappears into his bedroom, though you’re quick to walk in as well. “Jungkook, stop.”

He doesn’t glance your way. Just grabs his school bag from where it was on the floor, and puts it on his bed before heading to the drawer you know houses his underwear and socks.

“Jungkook, you don’t have to go, you live here,” you add, and a tear slips free, spilling on your cheek.

Now he does spare you a glance, and you watch the silver lining his gaze. But it’s the look in his eyes that silences you, until all you can do is watch him as he packs some clothes. He’s done in no time, and he throws a sweatshirt on before brushing past you to head to the front door, next to which Taehyung is still standing.

“Jungkook,” you let out, and it sounds more like a sob than anything else.

It’s the sound of breaking hearts, something you and Jungkook have grown far too familiar with.

He grabs his keys from the table by the door, puts his shoes on quickly, head hanging low like he doesn’t want Taehyung to see the tears on his cheeks. But you see them - you know them.

You’re the reason behind them after all.

Jungkook finishes putting his shoes on, and he lays a hand on the doorknob, yet he hesitates before turning. Long enough for you to try again, “Jungkook, please.”

He meets your gaze, and his eyes clear of the tears as he blinks a few times. “I’ll see you around,” he says in a whisper, and you know it for the lie that it is.

He’s not planning to ever see you again, is he?

Prev | Chapter 14.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I promise the angst is nearing its end :') I hope you guys liked this chapter! Let me know what you think!:)

#chasing cars ch 14 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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lovecla · 2 months ago

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TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter two:

➴ chapter warnings: toxic mom, mentions of mental health issues.

➴ word count: 3.7k

💌 from me to you: thought of making this chapter 4k+ words long but then i felt bad for u guys so i made it shorter 🫂 hope u like it and thank u for reading!

౨ৎ

2024, MARCH

THE AIRPORT was filled with people, as it always was, but you were so used to Los Angeles’ fast pace that it didn’t bother you. With your suitcase in your left hand and your purse in the other, you walked towards the check-in area, after trying to locate your flight to Toronto on the panels.

Strangely enough, there weren't any flights to Toronto at one two forty-eight p.m., which was the time on the ticket your mom had sent you. You frowned but let it go, thinking that maybe they had some technical issues and forgot to put the flight there.

After waiting in line for about fifteen minutes, one of the staff finally called you. “Passport, please,”

You nodded and handed him your passport, waiting for your boarding pass. When he gave it to you, after weighing your suitcase and putting a tag on it, you called him again, confused.

“Excuse me, sir,” He looked at you, waiting for you to keep going. “This boarding pass says the flight is to Vancouver.”

He raised his eyebrow. “So?”

You chuckled. “I’m going to Toronto, not Vancouver,” you tried to explain, returning the ticket. “There’s been a mistake.”

“Ma’am,” he started, voice sounding a little bit too annoyed to your liking. “Your name is on the list for the flight AC 472, to Vancouver, Canada. You’re Madison Carter, right?”

“Yeah, I am, but—”

“Maybe you bought the wrong ticket but I can assure you, ma’am, this plane is flying to Vancouver.”

You stared at him, wanting to shout that you weren’t the one who had bought the ticket, your mom did; and you didn’t even want to be in Canada in the first place because you’d much rather clean the airport’s floor with your own tongue than to go back to the life you had in Toronto.

But unfortunately the worker didn’t have anything to do with your shitty past, so you just nodded and wished him a good day. Next thing, you grabbed your phone and called failed your mom’s number, praying that she’d pick up and tell you that it was a mistake and that she bought the wrong ticket and—

“Jessica Carter.”

“It’s Madison,” you greeted, trying your hardest to stay collected. “Mom, the ticket you bought me is to Vancouver, not Toronto.”

She went silent for a while, and you frowned.

“Mom, the ticket—”

“Yes, Madison, I heard the first time you spoke,” she made a tsc sound with her tongue. “What’s the matter?”

“What— what do you mean, what’s the matter? Isn’t the dinner in Toronto?”

“No.”

You heart was beating so fast inside your chest and your hands were starting to feel sticky and cold. You looked around the place, people coming and going, while no one seemed to notice the turmoil happening inside of your chest.

“We’re having dinner in Vancouver, at the place I texted you. Didn’t you check it?” She sounded annoyed. And no, of course you hadn’t checked, you didn’t need to. You knew it was going to be another fancy ass restaurant with fancy ass people and small ass meals that tasted ten times less than the price you paid for them.

“But why?” Your voice trembled, and you coughed to cover it. “Aren’t you guys in Toronto?”

“Madison, everyday I pray to God that one day you will finally actually love your family,” she hissed, and your heart actually stop. Or at least that’s how you felt. “Your dad isn’t working with the Toronto hockey team anymore, he quit last year and it was all over the news. I know you don’t care about your family but you could at least pretend to. What if a reporter asked you questions about us? What do you think it’d look like with the press when your dad’s own daughter doesn’t care about her dad?”

You wanted to scream at her, turn the phone off, leave the airport and pick Bella up at the dog hotel she was staying in and take her home so you could both cuddle for the entire weekend. You wanted to tell her that no one in that family knew what the word love meant, no one even cared about it. And even if you had known love once, it was gone now, and all you could do is continue with your life.

“Get on that plane, Madison. I’ll see you at Hawksworth at seven p.m. tonight and you better not be late. Have a safe flight.” She said before hanging up on you.

You stared at your phone’s screen until it went completely black. Sometimes, you asked yourself why you still did what your mom wanted. You were twenty-two, you had your own job and your own money. You wouldn’t exaclt lose anything if you stopped talking to her.

But then, every time you thought about not doing what she asked you to, or even stopping talking to her, you felt like the worst daughter in the whole green world. You felt ungrateful, and a feeling that left your chest so hollow you couldn’t breathe.

So you kept walking behind her, stepping only where she asked you to.

Sighing, you went back to walking towards the security area. There wasn’t anything that could be done and honestly, you were too exhausted to even think of something.

So, Vancouver it is.

౨ৎ

THE TAXI smelled like fried peanuts making you scrunch your nose.

You looked through the window, looking at the city you’d been born in and how much it’s changed. As much as you hated to admit, Vancouver had always been extremely beautiful.

You were on your way to the restaurant, feeling like you’d lost a thousand battles. When you arrived at your hotel earlier they had mistaken you for someone else and put you in the worst bedroom ever. And if that wasn’t enough, you had to take a cold shower because the shower heater wasn't working and now you were shivering because it was March and Vancouver was still cold as hell.

“Miss?”

You turned your head around, facing the driver. He was making a funny face at you and you were just about to ask what was so funny when he pointed outside. You followed his finger and well, there it was. The Hawksworth restaurant your mom loved so much. Ignoring the tug on your chest, you thanked the man and got out of the car.

Thanking past you for choosing a warm dress and comfortable heels, you made your way inside the restaurant, politely greeting the people you saw on your way to the hostess.

“Good evening,” you said, smiling at the blonde girl in front of you. “Madison Carter.”

“Good evening, ma’am. They’re waiting for you in the private room. Do you need someone to take you there?” She crossed your name on some fancy sheet and you shook your head. You’ve been going to this place ever since you were a child. You knew it like the back of your hand.

After a quiet thank you, you resumed your walk, mentally preparing yourself for what this evening was going to be. Your mom making sure to control all of your doings, your dad only talking about himself and his work and Peter— hell, you didn’t even know if Peter would be here.

It’s not like your mom treated him the same way as she treated you anyway, so if he wanted to get away with not coming to this dinner, he would.

When you turned to the left so you could enter the private area, your body was shocked with something, making your purse drop from your hold.

With heels so tall, you almost lost your balance, just staying in place because a hand, gentle yet extremely firm you noticed, grabbed you by the waist and pushed you to the side.

“I’m so sorry, are you—”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how much it’d changed. Looking up, you stared into Quinn’s blue eyes and held your breath.

“Madison.”

He said your name like it had poison in it, and it hurt. You still remember the last time you saw him and his family back in 2017, with him taking care of you while you were sick. How you tried so hard to memorize his features because you knew seeing him again in person would be nothing but close to impossible.

And yet here he was, standing right in front of you, wearing a fancy suit and many, many inches taller than you. His curls were carefully styled, pushed back with only a strand of hair falling down his forehead.

He had a stubble decorating his chin and it fitted him so perfectly, making him look older and mature.

Quinn Hughes still looked like the man you fell in love with when you were fifteen. And you weren’t exactly sure what to do with this information.

“Quinn.” You whispered, because you didn’t trust yourself enough to speak without stuttering.

“Jesus, finally, Madison, we’ve been waiting for you for ten minutes,” your mom’s voice filled the space and you jumped back, removing yourself from Quinn’s grip and remembering that you were still in the hallway of a famous restaurant, with people coming and going. “I see that you and Quinn are happy to see each other again.”

You bend down to grab your purse, choosing not to look at him while your mom talks. You had already seen enough in his eyes.

You got up and followed your mom, your body highly aware that the man you hadn’t seen for seven years, your best friend, was just a few steps behind you.

When you got to your table, you tried your hardest not to gasp out loud. Because your mind was probably playing games with you and you weren’t seeing the Hughes sitting with your dad and brother—

“Maddie!” You heard Jack shouting, looking like he didn’t care that they were at a five star restaurant.

You let out a wet chuckle, feeling your eyes wet with unshod tears. There they were; Luke, Jack, Ellen, Jim and… well. Quinn.

“Oh my God,” Ellen got up, immediately reaching for you. “You’re so pretty. And so grown up too!”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes,” you smiled, squeezing her just as hard. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You were always beautiful but,” she whistled, making you give her a little twirl. “Damn right.”

You giggled, feeling your chest a lot lighter. Despite being hurtful, this was a pleasant surprise.

“Hey, Mr. Hughes,” you greeted Jim, kissing him lightly on the cheek, just to watch the blush adorne his face like you knew it would. “Luke and Jack. You guys are taller than me now.”

“Hey, Maddie,” Luke got up, hugging you quickly, like a teenage boy who had just seen his first woman. “You’re all grown up too.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Jack asked, patting the seat beside him. You gave your own family a brief nod before sitting down, placing your purse on the chair and smiling at Jack, ignoring the fact that Quinn was sitting in front of you.

“I moved to LA a few years ago,” you explained, noticing how they were all paying attention to you. As they had always done. “I’m working as a model now.”

“Baby, we know!” Ellen smiled, squeezing Jim’s arms. “When I saw you on VOGUE last year I thought, this girl looks a lot like Madison. And then I realized. That was you!”

You smiled, bringing your shoulders to your ears, cheeks red and all.

“What do you think of LA, honey?” Ellen asked, resting her chin on her hand.

“I love it there,” you smiled. “Los Angeles is so full of life and opportunities. Not to mention the fact that I ran into super famous people all the time,” you giggled, remembering that one time you ran into Jennifer Aniston while you were grocery shopping.

“You are famous now too, M,” Jack jokes, making you laugh. “Are people there nice to you?”

You stared at his blue, gorgeous eyes and smiled, frankly. They were worried about your well-being and it made your heart flutter. Not even your own family asked these questions.

“Yeah, Jackie, they are,” you nodded. “I really love it there.”

“Then we’re happy, honey.”

They moved on to another topic of how all of you are so grown now, and how well you were all doing in your careers. Your parents were mostly talking about Peter, and how proud they are because he’s in his last year of medical school, soon to be a resident in orthopedic surgery.

You didn’t mind the fact that they preferred to talk about Peter and his accomplishments over you, in fact, you actually preferred it this way. That way they would leave you and your choices alone, which was what you wanted. Besides, you could keep stealing glances from Quinn’s beautiful, comforting face here and there. Not that he was looking at you, or even talking your way.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. After he left for Michigan, your mom made sure you didn’t have time to grieve over him leaving, no. She was making sure you were on the cover of Fashion’s at the ripe age of sixteen.

And when you thought of reaching out first, you took a peep at his and his university’s Instagram. And he was always surrounded by beautiful, talented girls who were his age and seemed to know what they were doing. And you were just like the little, ugly duck, sixteen and naive.

So you never really contacted him or his family, for that matter. You knew your parents still kept in touch with the Hughes, but they never told you anything— and you didn’t ask. But Quinn couldn’t be too upset with you because he had never reached out to you either. So you were both pretty much even.

“What are you doing after we leave here?” Jack asked beside you, after swallowing down his food.

“Honestly?” You chuckled. “I’m gonna go back to my hotel and sleep. I’m tired.”

“No way,” he almost pouted. He liked twelve years old all over again. “You’re coming with us, we’re heading to a club after this, it’s our last night together with Huggy bear,” he pointed at Quinn, who was eyeing him weirdly. “And now, it’s our last night with you too.”

“You’re leaving already?” You frowned.

“We’ve been here for a few days now but it’s still the season. We need to head back to Newark soon.” Luke explained, and it all made sense. Sometimes you forget that they’re famous, talented hockey players.

“That’s great, hum—” your phone started ringing and you opened your purse to decline it, frowning when you saw Nicholas’ name flashing on the screen. He knew you were on your day off and he had never called you during days off before. So it was probably important. “Sorry, excuse me, it’s my boss.” You excused yourself before leaving the table and accepting the call.

“Madison?”

“Yeah, Nick, hi,” you walked out of the restaurant, wanting to be outside so you could hear him better, feeling the cold air hit your face immediately. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, no, nothing happened.”

“Then why are you calling me?” You giggled. “It’s my day off.”

“Oh, right,” he laughed, the high pitch noise making you smile too. “I’m calling you because we fucking did it, baby!”

“Um. What did we do?”

He scoffed like he couldn’t believe you were even asking. “What do you mean, Madison Carter! We finally signed you to La Vie en Rose!”

You audibly gasped, trying your hardest not to start jumping around.

Despite the fact that you had worked with bigger retailers before, La Vie en Rose has always been one of your and Nicholas’ biggest dreams.

“You’re lucky I’m out right now because otherwise you’d be hearing my screams there in Los Angeles,” you laughed, feeling truly happy for the first time in a while. “How did it happen? Actually, no,” you interrupted yourself. “I don’t even care about what you did. This is huge! When do I start?”

“This is where it gets better.”

“Better than working with one of my favorite designers? Try me.”

“They asked if you had any preferences for places and since you’ve been here here in LA for four years now, I thought I’d do you a favor and get you closer to your family,” he said, excitement pouring down his words. “So I said that you could get signed with their Canadian headquarters and guess what? They said yes! So now you’ll have to move to Vancouver, of course, but think with me—”

You didn’t even care about the rest of the things he was saying. The high from before disappearing like candies during Halloween, your happiness being replaced by an ugly, horrid feeling that made your stomach hurt, all the food you’d just eaten trying to find its way back outside.

“Madison? Are you there?”

“Yes,” you gritted through your teeth, taking deep breaths. “Nicholas, I can't. I cannot be in Vancouver.”

“If you’re worried about moving and your apartment and Bella, don’t worry, they’ll cover it all—”

“I’m not worried about moving, I just can’t,” your voice cracks, so you take a moment to breathe again. “I can’t be in Vancouver.”

“Madison—”

“They have their headquarters in Paris. I can move there, it’s no issue, really.” You pleaded.

“You’d rather move to Paris than to be with your family in Canada?” He sounded surprised and confused at the same time and you bit your lip, remembering your mom’s words about the press and rumors. You trusted Nicholas and you knew he wasn’t going to tell anyone anything but in the world of fashion, words flew fast. “I’m not following.”

“Yes,” you confessed. “Can you do that?”

“No, I— I already signed the deal. I thought I was doing you a favor—”

“You didn’t do me any favor, Nicholas!” You didn’t realize you were speaking louder now, raising your arm. “I’m not fucking moving to Vancouver! Fuck.”

You ran your hand through your hair, feeling bad for lashing out on him, but just the thought of living close to your family and Quinn made you lose your mind.

Nicholas sighed, speaking after an entire minute. “Listen. I don’t know where this is coming from and I’d really like to help you if you need me. But this is your dream, Madison. Ever since I met you, when you were that sweet, little dove at eighteen, you’ve been talking about this. And you know how hard we worked for this.”

“Nicholas,” you called out and he shushed you.

“And I can’t do anything about this. I’m sorry, but this is above me. I made the wrong decision of signing it without talking to you first but you were out with your family and I didn’t want to bother you.” He sighed, staying silent for a while, as you looked straight ahead, not really seeing anyone, even though the street was busy. “If you say no, it’s… they’ll choose someone else. Madison, I need you to think about this.”

You could hear the entreaty in his voice and you felt so bad. He was right.

“You need to give me an answer by Monday. I’ve already told them you’d be thrilled to move but I can always take back what I said,” he murmured, and if you knew him well enough, you’d say he’s squeezing his cheeks between his fingers right now. “It’d only be for six months, baby. Think about it.”

You were silent for a while, before realizing he was probably waiting for an answer.

“Right,” you whispered. “Okay. I’ll call you later. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I know you were just doing what you thought was the best.”

“I’m so sorry, Mads. Totally thought I was doing you a favor.”

“It’s fine,” you answer, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see. “Bye.”

“Bye, Mads. Call me if you need anything.”

You hadn’t even turned your phone off completely before hearing a voice behind you.

“Troubles in paradise, huh?”

You turn around, facing Quinn who was now leaning against the restaurant wall, by himself. Where were the people who worked there or the other customers you didn’t know, and truthfully, you didn’t really care at that moment.

“Excuse me?” You asked, staring at him, watching as he shrugged, like he hadn’t said anything.

“I asked if you were having troubles in your little Angeleno world, since things seem to be so perfect in Los Angeles.”

“This is the first conversation we have in years and this is how you want it to go? Seriously?” You stepped closer, standing in front of him, tilting your head up so you could stare into those beautiful eyes you’d love to lose yourself in.

No, you reprimanded yourself. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” he looked down, his eyes meeting yours. “Remind me of why this is our first conversation in years, Madison,” again, he said your name like it hurt him.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Guys, what the hell,” someone shouted beside you, making both you and Quinn turn your heads around. Jack stood there, looking slightly displeased, while Luke typed something on his phone. “We’ve been looking for you for ages. Our parents left through the other entrance a while ago. It’s time to party, baby!”

“I’m not going,” you hissed, stepping back.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Luke looked up from his phone, frowning at you. “Maddie. We haven’t seen each other in years!”

“I know, I’m just tired and—”

“We need to catch up!” Jack whined, wrapping his arms around your waist, shaking you slightly. “We need to talk!”

“She doesn’t like talking, do you, Madison?” Quinn blurted out, eyes turning gray when directed at you.

For some reason that one comment turned your fight or flight mode and you had enough. “You’re so funny, Quintin,” you plastered on the biggest fake smile you could. “Actually, I’m not that tired. Let’s go.”

You followed two yelling boys and a moody one, not even acknowledging the latter. If Quinn wanted to be all pissy about the fact that you hadn’t spoken to him in years, when he also hadn’t reached out to you, then fine. Two could play that game.

taglist: @ru-kru 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

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midnighvtm4ss · 3 months ago

Text

Rosemary

Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes

wc: 5k

a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)

Pain.

The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.

Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.

You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.

You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.

“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.

From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,

‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.

The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.

You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.

“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.

“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.

Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.

Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.

He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.

Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.

“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.

The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.

Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.

Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.

“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.

“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.

“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”

“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”

“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.

“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.

“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.

“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’

“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.

He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.

“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”

“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.

The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.

He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.

“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”

“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”

His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.

“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.

“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened

“You think something happened to her ?”

“I do, yeah”

“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”

Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.

“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.

Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.

The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.

After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.

It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.

Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.

“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.

“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”

“By who?” asked Bill.

Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.

“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”

Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.

Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.

“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.

Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive

The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.

“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.

The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”

Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.

The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”

He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”

Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”

You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”

He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”

His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.

You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”

He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.

“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfiction

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thewritetofreespeech · 7 months ago

Text

Gale x Tav

words: 1992

rating: E

pairing: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

summary: since you all are so thirsty for an extended verison of the NSFW headcanons post, I guess I had to make one. I am nothing if not a servant to my people.

tags: magic sex (literally. but also metaphorically), exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation (kind of), Gale using magic for naughty reasons, projection!Gale

part ii part iii

“Alright class! Please turn your alchemy text to Chapter 8, page 394.”

There was a loud, unanimous sound of rustling paper as all the students in the lecture hall flipped through their books to the requested text. You don’t know what Gale was always complaining about. This teaching thing wasn’t that hard.

Gale had to leave for a community conference of the Blackwater staff and some of the other schools of magical arts in Faerûn. Given that they were all wizards, you had asked why they all couldn’t just project their consciousness into one place and avoid the travel, but Gale didn’t have an answer for that and left earlier that week. In his absence, he had asked you to take over his Introductory to Magics class while he was gone. Given that it was an introductory course, which mostly meant learning the basics and text anyway, and you’d had ‘private tutoring’ from Mystra’s former Chosen himself, he insisted you were more than qualified to act in his stead.

It had actually been pretty fun. The young weave masters were all eager to learn. Honestly the hardest thing was keeping them on task with the subjects instead of running off with a lot of questions about your victory over the Elder Brain and recuse of the realm. It was flattering, but not apart of the testing materials.

The students all wait patiently with their books open for you to begin, and you turn around to the blackboard. All of a sudden you felt a twinge between your legs. Not a painful one but more….

“Professor [Y/N], are you alright?”

You turn to look over your shoulder at the class, clearly spaced out for a moment, before you smile and tell them, “oh yes. Sorry. Let’s talk about alchemy then.”

You begin to write and talk to the class when you feel the sensation again. It was faint, but distinct. At first you thought it was just the seam of your trousers rubbing against your apex. But it was too consistent for that. The sensation would come. Then the sensation would go. You tried to keep your mind on the lesson but the more it came & went you had to wonder what was going on.

It couldn’t be Haarlep. Despite your adventure being over, your contract with the sex demon wasn’t. He still used your form from time to time, though your popularity in Avernous seemed to be waning as he hadn’t called on it in some time. If it were him the sensation would be constant, before fading away like a breathless sigh off your lips. So it was something else.

By the time you get through explaining the 4 key groups of alchemy, and made it to page 396, the sensation had crawled up from your core and just to the pit of your belly. You were having a harder time focusing on the lesson. Your attention now spilt between 50% focused on what was happening to your body, a mere 10% on the lecture, and the rest on the stimulating sensation between your legs that was just too pleasurable to resist.

To save face, and avoid any embarrassment like moaning out loud in front of a class full of minors, you quickly pivot the class schedule into independent study. Telling the students to go out around campus and find 5, no 15 herbs, floral, whatever to craft with for tomorrow morning’s follow up lecture on application.

Some of the students seem confused. While other just look excited to have the afternoon off for ‘foraging’. Still, the all leave rate orderly while you wave them off, and just as the door closed behind the last one you let out a deep breath you didn’t really you were holding and brace your hands against the desk.

Your body felt like it was on fire. Teased, tormented, toyed with. Your hands still splayed on the desk, you spread your legs and let out a moan. Conventionally thinking would lead on to believe that rubbing your thighs together would make the sensation stronger, yet somehow spreading them apart made more room for…whatever this was to work. Your clit throbbed at the feeling of something rubbing against it. If they weren’t in front of you, you would have sworn it was your own hand touching you. The sensation was so similar. Your fingertips twitch at the thought. Prepared to slide down the front of your pants to finish you off.

“Hello there!”

You jump with a start. Eyes wide in alarm at the sound of a voice. The immediate thought coming to mind that another professor has come to ask why the entire Introductory to Magics class is out picking herbs & flowers instead of being in a classroom and caught you on the cusp of a very public private moment. Thankfully, it wasn’t. Only Gale’s Mirror Image projection standing there looking cheerfully at you. “Gale? What are you doing here?”

“I assume you mean what is Gale doing sending me here.” The clever non-corporeal remarked. “Gale has sent me here to see how his new technique is working out. And, judging by your flushed cheeks and wanton appearance, I would say it’s going splendidly!”

Your brain struggled to gather all the bits of information the projection was dealing out through your fog. But you gather enough to finally understand what’s going on. “Gale did this to me!”

“Doing. He is doing this to you ma’m.” As if to prove a point of the explanation, there was another, firmer press of rubbing against your clit. One that made you moan again and knees nearly buckle. “Gale has informed me, to tell you, that he enchanted one of the stones on his ring to be linked with your…well…your own stone. He also wants me to tell you it’s the ruby one. On the silver band.”

The one you bought him. “Can I ask…mmm…why he did this?”

“You can ask! He says it was to give you pleasure while he was away. Long distance relationship can be tricky.” It had been less than a week. “He thought this would be a good resolution in the intermedium. And, perhaps other times in the future.”

You’re not sure if you should feel violated by Gale’s magical molestations or marvel at his creativity. It didn’t really matter in the end because all you could think about was the nagging need to cum. And one other nagging thing – “and you couldn’t possibly wait until I was home to try out this new technique? I’m in the middle of teaching your class. I’m still at the academy! What if someone comes in here right now??”

“Oh. Not to worry. Gale has informed me that the door is magically locked until 2:30 this afternoon. Something about office hours? No one can enter until after that time. Does that help answer your question?”

You let out another long, heavy sigh. One of abject relief and feeling your legs give way as you fall back into Gale’s chair. All the energy sapped from your body as you gave way to the pleasure that had been bubbly up. No longer holding it back, but instead letting it wash over you.

“Gale says he’s happy you like your present.”

You open your eyes. Seeing the projection staring at you with a blank, but soothing expression. Those unending eyes seeming to look right through you. Or perhaps, more to the point, stare past itself and straight to Gale. It was kind of hot. The coolness of its gaze. “My present, eh?”

The projection nodded. “Yes. He says he did this for you.”

“Just for me?” You unbutton your blouse. It had been feeling terrible constricting for quite some time now anyway. The projection doesn’t say anything. Nor does its expression change more than the slight tilt of it’s head, as the fabric gave way to relieve more skin and the outline of your breast in their bra.

“He says yes. But the pockets of his mind I can access independently lead me to believe it’s not purely altruistic.”

You giggle at the projection’s honesty, before your laughter turned into moans. The feeling on your clit more intense. As if Gale was trying to change the conversation.

“Fuck…Gale….” Your back arched off the back of the chair for a moment before it came back down again. “I can’t take it anymore. Are you as anatomically correct as before?”

“Hmm…I believe so.” The projection looked down at itself. Seeming to ponder the concept, as well as all its parts. “But Gale has instructed me that he’s not interested in me using that ability with you. The time in Shar’s Caress was due to the other guests in attendance. With you, Gale wants you all to himself.”

There was an odd feeling of arousal at Gale’s possessiveness, even against himself in a way, but also disappointment. You were close. But the sensation from Gale’s ring to your core wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Just as you were again about to shove your own hand down your pants, you feel a new sensation of hands on you. Not just one hand, or two, but multiple hands. Mage hands. They play with your breasts, your nipples, your ears, your hair. You lean back in Gale’s chair with your eyes closed. Moaning and panting with a white-knuckle grip on the arm rests as the invisible hands play with your body. One finally gives you what you want. Phantom appendage digits thrusting into your inner core, wet and hot.

Your hips jerk up as you let out a wordless scream before the fall back down and you let it fuck you. Legs wide. Blouse open. Mouth agape as Gale abuses his power to abuse your body in the most pleasurable way possible. You’re about to cum probably harder than you’ve ever cum in your life and your pants were still on. How insane was that?

You open your eyes, half lidded and only for a moment, to see the projection still staring at you as you fall apart. Then, you finally do. You cum hard. Bowing back off the chair so hard you hear it creak, before you fall back limp against the soft leather.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

You look up at the projection again. Trying to catch your breath and right your world again. “Yes.”

“Good. Gale is glad you did. He also says that it’s made up for a rather dull afternoon of meetings.” A shiver ran up your spine at the thought that Gale had done all of this during a meeting. “The time is now 2:00. If you would like to freshen up, I suggest you make haste before 2:30 when the doors reopen. Gale says that enjoys how you look right now, but it is probably not appropriate for academia.”

“Then maybe don’t do this at ‘academia’ locations.” You quip back as you smooth out your hair.

“Fair.” The projection agrees. “Gale would like to know if you would like to do this again then when you are not in academia. Perhaps tonight? At home?”

You bite your lip at the thought of it. Doing this all over again, only this time naked in your bed. Perhaps even able to participate more now that you knew what was going on. “Absolutely.”

“Splendid!” The projection offers you a smile before it fades. Disappearing with a last, “see you tonight” as it reabsorbed back into the weave.

Alone again, you stand on shaky legs and try to right yourself for the next class. You still had two more classes to teach before you could go home that evening and become Gale’s play thing again.

The thought made it completely impossible to be totally focused on your lesson plan. You may have told some impressionable young wizards that Fly and Feather Fall were absolutely the same spell. Oh well. Mistakes happen.

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supernovafics · 4 months ago

Text

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4k words

warnings: explicit language, some angst

summary: somehow it’s waking up at steve’s place that ends up being the most normal part of your day

CHAPTER EIGHT | ❝𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏❞

Spring Semester 2016

“Woah, you’re actually alive, Munson?” You were mostly joking with your words, but you tried to keep your voice as serious as possible. After days of missed calls and sporadic texts, you needed to push his buttons a bit.

It shouldn’t have been surprising to see your best friend standing at your door, but it was. The last time you’d seen him was three days ago— which, in general terms, wasn't a long time at all, but for you and Eddie it was. You tried your hardest to not take it too personally, though, because it was just the age-old phenomenon of a friend getting into a relationship. You’d been through one too many situations like that with friends back in high school.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie told you, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it, which made you feel a little bad.

“It’s okay. I’m kidding. I know you’re happily in the honeymoon phase right now,” You said and gave him a small smile that actually didn’t feel too forced.

Every romantic feeling you had for him was stuffed into a metaphorical box that you then buried deep down inside of you, and at this point, you never planned on opening it. You forced yourself to not think about how you felt about him, which made it easier to solely be happy for him.

“I’m still sorry,” Eddie said as he walked into your room, which was actually empty for once. Your roommate had half-mentioned to you earlier that she was going to be gone for the weekend. “I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“I’ve missed you too,” You said, closing the door behind him and then proceeding to ask the question that you didn’t want to ask, but you knew that you needed to. “Where’s Chrissy?”

“Some study group thing right now, and then she has cheerleading stuff for the rest of the night,” He answered and then shifted the subject. “It’s felt weird not seeing you these last few days.”

Aside from the fact that you’d been trying to make sense of the new dynamic between you and him and trying to be completely okay with things being different now, you did simply just miss your friend.

He sat at the foot of your bed and you walked over to him. You two probably should’ve caught each other up on the last few days, but it felt like there was no need for the small talk.

“What was that one movie that you mentioned before and you said that we should watch it?” Eddie asked as he started taking off his shoes. “I think you said Lindsay Lohan’s in it?”

You smiled at the abruptness of the question. “Freaky Friday?”

“Yes, that. We should watch it.”

“It still doesn’t make sense to me how you haven't seen that already.”

“Tonight’s the night.”

“Okay, I’ll never say no to watching Freaky Friday,” You said, heading over to your desk to grab your laptop, and then you joined him on your bed and pulled up the movie. “I think you’re gonna love Lindsay Lohan’s character.”

You two spent most of the night watching the movie, which he ended up liking a lot, and then he proceeded to show you a band that reminded him a lot of the music they used in the movie. And it was in moments like these, where you and he hung out and talked and did the things that had cemented your friendship in the first place, that nothing felt different.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

It was the sun that woke you up. The bright light beaming through Steve’s curtainless living room windows that made you softly groan and want to pull a blanket over your head, but you didn’t have a blanket over you anyway.

It was then that your mind reminded you of where you were and what happened last night.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, unsure of when exactly you had shifted to lying down on Steve’s wood floor and placing your head in his lap, using it as a makeshift pillow throughout most of the night.

You thought about the conversation that you two had last night and how nice it had been. It made waking up in his apartment feel a thousand times less awkward than how it would’ve felt if you and he were still in that weird place where moments alone together didn’t feel entirely easy and comfortable. Now you felt perfectly fine.

You stood up slowly in an attempt to not wake Steve since he was still asleep, leaning back against the couch with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted.

Mindlessly, you flicked on the bathroom light when you walked in, forgetting that the power had been out. But, when it actually turned on, you remembered, and you wondered when exactly it had come back.

Your eyes traveled to your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the fact that you were in Steve’s clothes shouldn’t have surprised you at all, because you vividly remembered putting them on, but it did. You hadn’t actually seen what you looked like last night, so it was slightly startling seeing yourself wearing the gray t-shirt that you now could see said “Hawkins High School Class of 2015” in dark green lettering and the black basketball shorts that you had tied tightly at your hips.

You knew that you probably should’ve changed then, your original clothes from the night before were in a heap on the bathroom floor, but you didn’t really want to just yet. You were comfortable and too tired to make the effort to put back on your jeans or even slip your sweater over your head. Therefore, you simply used the bathroom instead of changing out of his clothes.

As you washed your hands, you noticed the packaged toothbrush that sat on the counter. You smiled at the gesture because you knew that Steve put it out for you, and you had no idea when he did that.

You brushed your teeth and it wasn’t until you were leaving the bathroom, that you thought about what time it was. You were lucky and didn’t have any classes on Mondays, but you remembered at some point during the conversation last night that Steve mentioned having only one class at twelve. And then as if on cue, your phone started ringing on the coffee table, an incessant alarm sound that abruptly filled the quietness that hung in the air— you’d forgotten that you’d even set an alarm yesterday.

You rushed over to your phone to turn it off and hopefully not wake Steve, but he was up by the time you managed to stop it.

“You set an alarm?” He asked, voice groggy with sleep as he looked up at you.

“Yeah, I completely forgot I set one for nine,” You told him. “I did it early yesterday to remind myself to submit this assignment for one of my classes. Now I can’t even do it since I’m here, but it’s fine because it’s not due until midnight anyway. I’m just always so forgetful when it comes to this one Lit class.” You stopped rambling and slipped your phone into the pocket of the basketball shorts. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes for a second. “How long have you been up?”

“Ten minutes, probably.”

“Did you have another falling nightmare?”

“Thankfully, no,” You shook your head. “It was the sun that woke me up.”

“Yeah, sorry, I keep thinking about getting curtains in here.”

“That would be a solid idea. If I wasn’t a fake girlfriend, I would’ve probably gotten you some by now. And maybe some throw pillows too. Your couch looks so lonely and sad,” You joked.

Steve gave you an amused look as he stood up. “I don’t think couches can look lonely and sad.”

“They definitely can.”

He was about to respond to your joking words, but then your phone started to ring in your pocket, interrupting whatever he was about to say. You pulled it out, seeing Eddie’s name on the screen.

You brought your phone to your ear as you turned and walked over to the window, the current weather outside made it look as if nothing had even happened last night. “Hey, Eds.”

When you turned around, looking away from the clear sky and bright sun, you noticed Steve heading to the bathroom.

“Hey, want to grab some breakfast?” Eddie asked. His schedule was ingrained in your brain as much as your own was, so you knew that his Mondays were free too. “I can be at your place in ten.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually at Steve’s right now,” You said. “Because of the storm and power outage last night and stuff.”

“Oh…” He responded, and it was hard to read what that simple word meant, if anything. “You can ask him to come too?”

You were quiet for a moment. “Um, okay, yeah. Hold on a sec. I’ll ask him.”

You put the call on mute as you walked over to the bathroom and gave the door a quick knock. “Hey, me and Eddie are gonna get some food. You wanna come too? I know you said that you have a class at twelve, but I figured I’d still ask.”

You heard the sink turn off and then there was a brief pause before Steve was asking, “You want me to come?”

Another pause lingered as you considered that question. “Honestly, I’m not really in the mood to throw on the fake dating charm right now.”

The sink turned back on. “Yeah, same here.”

“Okay.” You walked away from the door then and went back to the living room, settling on the couch and unmuting the call with Eddie as you did so. “He can’t come, but I’ll still go. I’ll text you the address of his apartment.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

You were in the middle of texting Eddie when Steve emerged from the bathroom. He sat down next to you on the couch and you set your phone on the coffee table and then looked at him.

“Thanks for putting out the toothbrush for me, by the way.”

“No problem,” He responded with a shrug like it wasn’t a big deal; which maybe it wasn’t, but in your eyes it was still a nice and thoughtful thing to do. “Eddie’s on his way?”

You only nodded in response at first. “Yeah, so I should probably go change. Also, thank you for letting me borrow clothes. You’re a very great fake boyfriend.”

“Thank you. And if you got me some curtains, I’d consider you a very great fake girlfriend.”

You let out a laugh as you got up and started heading to the bathroom again. “That’s not gonna happen because I won’t be able to reap the benefits of them in a month.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Steve responded, and then before you closed the bathroom door behind you so that you could change he was saying, “You should keep the shirt on.”

“Okay,” You said, not thinking too much about the random suggestion even though you probably should’ve asked why he thought that was a good idea. You were still pretty comfortable in his shirt anyway, so in the moment you weren’t really fazed.

You slipped out of the basketball shorts and put on your jeans, and then stuffed your sweater and dress from last night back in the bag that you brought it in, which sat by the front door.

The text from Eddie came twenty minutes later when you were in the middle of helping Steve clean up the cards scattered across the table. It was quiet right then, but you didn’t hate it, which pretty much said everything without actually saying anything.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until you were getting into Eddie’s van that you finally understood why Steve told you to keep on his shirt.

Eddie noticed it immediately and you could tell that he wanted to say something, maybe question you about it, but the slightly surprised look he gave you said enough. The shirt quite literally meant nothing, but it was an easy way to play up your “relationship” with Steve without even having to say anything. It was a great idea and you wished that you had thought of it, but you were glad that Steve did.

“We should go to Frankie’s,” You said since Eddie was still quiet and simply looking at your, Steve’s, shirt. “Their pancakes would be great right now.”

Eddie’s gaze met yours then and he nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

That diner became somewhat of a staple of yours when you and him randomly stumbled upon it Freshman year. The only thing that was good was the breakfast— everything else absolutely sucked aside from the milkshakes, but even that was only sometimes. And it was rarely ever busy so you usually always ended up in the same booth.

“I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me here,” Eddie said as he took a sip of his orange juice.

Going to Frankie’s had become a group occasion at this point. The second you met Robin in the Fall of your sophomore year and quickly became friends, it grew from just being your and Eddie’s thing. And then you met Vickie, and then you met Talia, and the rest was history. If one person suggested going, everyone else was probably going to immediately want to join too. The last time you were here was three weeks ago with Robin and Vickie, getting waffles in the middle of the night because none of you could sleep.

But still, you remembered exactly the last time it had been just you and Eddie. However, you didn’t really want to bring that moment up right then, so you attempted to work around it.

“Um, yeah, it was last year toward the end of the semester,” You said and then promptly tried to change the subject. “Anyway, I’m thinking about maybe doing the waffle. When Robin, Vickie, and I were here last it was really good. But, it might’ve also just tasted that way because we were very sleep-deprived.”

Your subject change attempt was absolutely for nothing, though, because Eddie’s thoughts were stuck on the first part of what you said, and then he was realizing by himself. “Oh! Shit, I still can’t believe that I told you about the breakup here of all places.”

You remembered that morning probably way too vividly. He told you with the saddest look on his face and once you actually processed his words— “Me and Chrissy broke up”— you felt sad for him but also the tiniest bit relieved, and you immediately felt like shit for feeling that way because you could tell how upset he was about it.

“But, it’s kind of funny now, I think,” He continued before you could respond with anything.

Hearing him say that confused you and your eyebrows furrowed. “Funny?”

“Yeah, because none of that matters now, so it’s kinda funny thinking back to how fucked up I was about it then,” He said, words sounding completely genuine, and it was honestly pretty admiring seeing how he could look back on a shitty moment and see it in the entirely opposite way. When you looked back on past bad moments in your life, you either felt embarrassed by them or simply the same amount of shittyness. “Also, it’s kind of funny how that moment birthed one of your best ideas just because you were trying to cheer me up.”

You smiled at that. “Thank you for calling my summer road trip idea one of my best.” It had been an impulsively suggested idea that you weren’t entirely even serious about, but it was pulled together in just a week— you tried to remember if going to different national parks had been your suggestion or Eddie’s. But, either way, those five weeks spent driving around marked the best summer you’d ever had. “That whole thing still sounds like the plot of an early 2000s teen movie to me, so that’s probably why I thought of it.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should be very well-versed in those kinds of movies by now. I’ve made you watch the most important ones.”

“We’ve established that important doesn’t necessarily mean good, right?”

“Oh no, please don’t do this right now. I can’t bear to hear you slander She’s the Man again,” You said with a roll of your eyes.

Eddie simply laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But, I’m just saying there were some questionable things in th—”

“Shh, I will kick you under the table if I have to,” You interrupted him before he could finish.

It was then that the waitress came over to take your orders, perfectly putting a halt on the current conversation. Eddie got the pancakes, and after a few brief moments of hesitation, you decided on the same.

“Let’s go back to talking about the road trip,” You said before taking a quick sip of your coffee. “And what a great time that was.”

Eddie nodded, smiling at you. “I think that trip proved that we’re great at camping and weirdly good at kayaking, but we suck at hiking and you’re a bad driver.”

“Everything you said, except the driving comment, is very true,” You told him. “But, actually, I don’t know if we can really say that we’re great at camping since we were mainly just sleeping in your van for a lot of the trip.”

“Yeah, but that’s close enough to camping because we were parked at campgrounds.”

You laughed at that. “Very true. We technically did camp.”

You thought about those nights when you two talked about nothing and everything in the back of his van. And then your mind traveled to a different night in a shitty motel room toward the end of the trip, more talks of anything and everything, and stupid old feelings reminding you that they were in fact still there. Which had only annoyed you because you knew that there was no way that that trip was your time to admit anything to Eddie since he was in the middle of mourning a yearlong relationship.

“That entire trip helped a lot,” He told you in this moment and you nodded.

“I’m glad I could be there,” You said, and you meant that completely. It did bring up stuff that you had initially hoped was dead and gone, but you were still happy that the trip itself had happened.

“I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else there.”

You smiled at that. “I feel very honored. And I promise I won’t tell Robin that.”

You expected him to smile back at you and laugh a bit at your joke. But, instead, his eyes randomly traveled to your shirt again before he looked back up and met your gaze. There was a certain look on his face that you couldn’t decipher, which felt so foreign to you because you were usually always able to read him. For the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something, lips slightly parting for a second, but then he was looking away from you and focusing back on his drink.

That had never happened before. You were certain of it because it felt way too significant and you knew that you would’ve remembered it. You also would’ve remembered your reaction to what just happened too— the sudden stop your heart did, like it was stalling just for a moment, and then it abruptly sped up; you could feel it pound in your ears. You’d never experienced that before.

It felt as if something was changing, but you couldn’t tell what, and a part of you didn’t even want to try and read this moment. You were scared to once again jump to conclusions and read between what always ended up being nonexistent lines because you really didn’t want to be wrong like you’d been before.

“You okay?” You asked him, even though you didn’t necessarily feel that way yourself.

“‘M good,” Eddie answered, nodding. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He shrugged then. “Random stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

You wanted to push him further, but you didn’t, and you weren’t really sure why you didn’t. Because later, once you were in your room doing a final proofread of your assignment that was due before you submitted it, you thought back to that conversation with Eddie and the abrupt note it ended on before you shifted it and told him about the project you were helping Robin with for one of her Women’s Studies classes, some survey thing.

And you suddenly wished that you had asked Eddie about the “random stuff” that had been on his mind because now you couldn’t concentrate on this assignment and you just kept rereading the same sentence and for some reason, you now really wanted to know what he'd been thinking about.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a second, taking a quick breath before silently telling yourself to focus solely on reading the essay in front of you.

You were halfway through it when your phone pinged from where it sat next to you on your desk. A text from Steve.

Steve: I hope you remembered to submit your assignment

You smiled at the message, not even the slightest bit annoyed that it interrupted where you’d been reading.

You: Doing it now, actually

You: But thanks for the reminder. Great fake boyfriend!

Steve: Thanks. Wish I could say the same for you, but I’m still waiting on curtains…

You: Once again, never gonna happen

You stared at your text for a few moments. There wasn’t really anything else to say, but you suddenly wanted to say more. Surprisingly, you wanted to talk to him about the Eddie thing, but what would you even say about it?

There was a moment that wasn’t really a moment? Maybe he was about to say that he had feelings for you, or maybe you were being an idiot and looking way too deeply into absolutely nothing?

All of that felt so stupid, and you actually really didn’t want to spiral about it.

Right then, you decided that you actually just wanted to forget about the entire thing instead of talking about it. You were pressing the call button on Steve’s contact name before you could let yourself think about it too much.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, so earlier you asked if I had my falling nightmare last night, and I’m just now realizing that I didn’t ask if you had your driving dream. Did you?”

Steve could’ve easily asked why that was suddenly on your mind, and it would’ve been a valid question. But instead, he just answered you. “I was on a boat this time. Just floating around. It was very chill.”

You let out a laugh. “Wow, you’re so normal.”

“Do you remember what yours was last night?”

“Nope, which probably means that it was also very normal,” You answered. “The day that I actually remember a normal mundane dream that I have, I’ll make sure to tell you immediately.”

“Thanks, I’m looking forward to that,” He said, and you were somehow able to hear the amused smile in his voice. “Oh, and I also had another dream too. It was where you finally submitted that assignment for your class.”

You could clearly hear the sarcasm in his tone, which made you laugh. “I am, I am. I just really needed to ask that dream question.”

“Makes sense. Maybe the more I tell you about my normal dreams, the better chances you have of actually having one too.”

“Exactly. You get it.”

“I’m hanging up now. Please go submit that assignment,” Steve told you. “Or if you don’t, at least, don’t blame me for your failing grade.”

You smiled at that. “I promise that all blame will go to myself if I fail.”

“Good to know,” He said and you could practically hear him nodding. “In that case, let’s talk for another hour.”

“Ha ha, fuck you,” You said, still very much smiling, though. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You finally finished reading your essay and then submitted it. Moments after you closed your laptop and stood up from your desk, you were getting in bed and easily falling asleep without thinking about the Eddie thing, and what any of it did or didn’t mean.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson angst #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington series #bestfriend!eddie munson #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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straylightdream · 1 year ago

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what am I missing? / 3racha

act four: “Jisung shut the fuck up.”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlis

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: these will be shorter Drabble style chapters. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. Please fill out this form.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, more warning to come.

After his night he spent with you Changbin felt like he had grown even closer to you. Since your night together you hadn’t seen him because you were busy with work but he texted you throughout the day. You weren’t the only one who was busy, he was quite busy himself.

He felt like he was on cloud nine after you slept together. He was quite proud of himself with how much he was able to make you fall apart.

It was a week after your night together and you were stuck at work while Changbin was at the bar with Chan and Jisung. Chan was at the bar grabbing himself a beer while Jisung was sitting across from Changbin.

“Bin what happened after you went over to Y/N last week? I haven’t seen you or her since then?” Jisung asked.

Changbin tries his hardest not to smile at his friend's question. He’s not sure what he should tell the boys. Neither of you asked what would happen after you had sex. “We just talked.”

Jisung knits his eyebrows together staring at Changbin. “What actually happened?”

“Sungie knock it off,” Changbin groans before taking a drink of his beer. He doesn’t want to do this whole thing with Jisung. He knows him well and he knows how good Jisung is at reading people.

“You’re acting weird,” Jisung responds before taking a drink of his own beer.

“I’m not acting weird.”

“What else did you do other than talk?” Jisung's eyes narrow like he’s studying Changbin.

“We just talked.”

“Definitely more than talking happened?”

Changbin can’t help but roll his eyes that Jisung keeps pushing. “Nothing else happened.”

“Did you guys make out or did you guys fuck?”

Changbin closes his eyes, taking a deep breath trying not to yell at his friend to knock it off. “Oh my god you fucked Y/N?” Jisung is slowly putting the pieces together.

“Jisung,” Changbin smacks Jisung's hand. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What is going on?” Chan slides into the booth next to Jisung.

“Nothing,” Changbin can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Clearly something is happening.” Chan says.

“Changbin either you admit it or I’m telling him,” Jisung threatens.

“Jisung you don’t know anything.” He wants to call Jisung a liar but he knows he can’t because technically he isn’t lying.

“Changbin and YN fucked,” Jisung says without another thought.

Chan’s eyes go wide as he stares at Changbin in complete disbelief. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Changbin instantly feels guilty knowing that his best friend has a crush on you.

“First of all I want to know why Changbin broke the guy code,” Jisung groans. “Why didn’t you ask any of us if it’s okay? Chan has a crush on her and I like her too.”

Chan smacks Jisung's shoulder, “Jisung just because one of us like her doesn’t mean we can stop her from being with someone.”

“Wait, so I can get with her too?” Jisung suddenly lights up like a Christmas tree.

Changbin can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach suddenly. In no way is he your boyfriend or anything close to that, but he didn’t even think of the idea of you sleeping with Chan or Jisung after him. Changbin felt like an idiot that he wasn’t able to hide what happened better. “Jisung leave her alone. I’m not saying anything happened between us but you need to respect YN. You can’t just assume she’ll want to sleep with you.”

“I’m not assuming anything. I don’t want to just sleep with her you idiot. I’m gonna ask her out on a proper date and if she wants to have sex and know what it’s like to have the best orgasm of her life then she can sleep with me.”

Chan leans forward placing his face in his hands. He feels like an absolute idiot for even letting it slip about your terrible date. Now Changbin has slept with you and Jisung wants to go out with you. Chan hasn't been the best at hiding his crush on you and he thought that might stop something like this from ever happening.

“Chan say something to him. Tell Jisung to leave her alone.”

“My head hurts,” Chan groans. “Changbin, are you going to date her?”

“We didn’t really discuss anything like that but I want to see her again.”

“If she’s not your girlfriend I’m asking her out,” Jisung practically shouts.

Changbin doesn’t say anything, he just stares at Jisung for a long moment in disbelief. He knows he has no right to tell you who you can see. “Jisung, if she wants you, that's up to her.”

“Chan?” Jisung says his name sounding calmer.

“Can I have your permission to see her?”

“Why are you asking me permission? Changbin sure as hell didn’t,” he groans.

Jisung has a huge smile playing across his face and both Chan and Changbin know they’re screwed. They both know you’ve always had a soft spot for Jisung. Whenever the both of you drink together you always end up on the couch cuddling. Chan always wondered if you liked Jisung based on the way you always flirt with each other. He knows instantly that he’s made two mistakes when it comes to you. One was letting the boys know about your bad date. The second mistake was not telling Jisung to leave you alone.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

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desideriumwriter · 16 days ago

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Anyone But You | Chapter 14

Summary: You avoid the tension between you and Fred, you end up sobbing again, and make a decision that you're not sure if it was a mistake.

CW: crying, kissing, yelling

WC: 1.8k

A/N: a shortie but it's the moment you all have been waiting for! somewhat

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You really didn’t mean to stay this many days at the burrow. But you surprisingly didn’t miss your bed all that much. And you were having fun.

Angelina had gone home before lunch, Lee was staying for one more day, and Harry was staying for the rest of break as per usual.

You felt bad for him.

You had shared the same loss, but you felt worse for Harry than anyone else. He was the one to see Cedric die. Then he had to go and battle a dark wizard, and bring the corpse back with him.

Remembering that he was younger than you made it worse, dealing with all that at fourteen obviously is going to take awhile to recover from.

It seemed that the both of you tried not to dwell too much on it, not wanting to think about it, and using this time at the Weasleys as a way to distract your thoughts from that event.

Harry didn’t want to remind you of what happened and you didn’t want to remind Harry of what happened. You still asked how one another were doing and responded to each other in small group conversations at the table. But really no more than that.

Anyways, you’re trying not to dwell on it. This a vacation, you should be happy.

You did your best to act normal around Fred, trying to act as if you haven’t cried in his arms twice, and slept in his bed twice, sharing the bed one of those times.

The hardest thing to ignore was that feeling in your stomach any time he was near to you.

You're not sure when it started, nor how long you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe months? That’s quite terrifying, you won’t think about it too much.

The day was simple. You ate breakfast, watched both of the twins along with Lee and Harry play Quidditch, the twins already using the beaters bats you got them. Lee offered to switch places with you, seeing if you’d like to play a round with everyone. You refused, terrified you wouldn’t be able to dodge a ball in time or fall off your broom and end up with a broken arm.

You all went inside eventually, talked, watched TV, ate lunch, talked some more, watched TV some more, watched everyone play Quidditch some more, ate dinner, talked more.

Nothing very exciting happened most of the day, except when Lee was able to hit George right in the nose with a scone from the other side of the table.

Also, you were actually able to make conversation with the twins without getting annoyed every other minute. That was new.

Other than that, nothing super important happened for most of the day.

Once you went upstairs to change, you realized that you underestimated how many days you’d stay when you packed your bag.

You were out of fresh pajama shirts, you weren’t in the mood to wear the same shirt you’ve chosen to sleep in the past two nights.

It wasn’t ideal, but you just decided to keep on the shirt you had on all day and sleep in that, changing into a new pair of pajama pants.

Leaving the room and passing the twins room, you noticed a light on and the door was cracked open, it’s usually shut.

Peaking your head in carefully, you saw Fred standing and hunched over on his desk, focused as he wrote something on a piece of paper. Probably a new idea.

Pushing the door open a bit more, it squeaked and you cringed at the sound. Fred’s head slowly looked to where you were. He smiled.

“Will you be joining me in my bed again tonight?” He teased, a sarcastic suggestive tone in this voice.

“You got lucky last night, don’t push it Weasley.” You stepped fully into the room, crossing your arms. Fred noticed and looked down at your shirt, his eyebrows creasing inwards for a moment.

“Is that the same shirt you’ve worn today?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran out of sleep shirts. This will do for now.” You shrugged, moving a hand to play with the hem of your shirt.

Fred didn’t say anything, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, the wrong drawer. You got a glimpse of his boxers and immediately looked away. He slammed in shut with panic in his eyes, then clearing his throat as he opened the one underneath.

He pulled out an old shirt, it had a faded logo of some band he liked when he was prepubescent.

“Here, you can use this for the night.” He held out the shirt for you, you took it with a hesitant hand.

Looking down at it and rubbing the finger over the fabric, you bit your cheek. Feeling guilty all of sudden, about so much.

“Fred, why are you being so nice to me?” The words tumbled quickly out of your mouth, sounding painful.

“What?”

“I’ve been so horrible to you, all these years I've been so bitter and mean. Yet, you just let me in. You never held an actual grudge against me. I don’t get it.” You looked up at him, laying the folded shirt on the dresser next to you.

“Y/N, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He stepped closer to you. He was so close. So close.

“Why can't you just be mad at me? Why can't you hate me the way I’ve hated you.” You whined, shoving him slightly, praying you would finally scare him away, make him despise you.

Fred held your arms once you tried to push him away again, rubbing your thumbs over your wrists, and weakly saying your name.

“I could never hate you.” Fred spoke softly, you let out a breath of frustration and dropped your hands from his light grasp, wishing he would just tell the truth. He already was.

“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cause I understood, I am annoying and I am a bit of an arsehole sometimes with my pranks.” He chuckled and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know Y/N, I just can’t hate you.”

“Godric, why are you doing this to me Fred?” You groaned, dropping your head to his chest, leaning against him.

“I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Fred shook his head as he gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, holding it up to his gaze. You clenched your teeth together.

Can't help what? Can’t help what, Fred? You wanted to push so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Scared to know his response.

His eyes were glazed over, and he took in a shaky breath. You stared at his soft lips, the sides of lips curled down.

He looked so fucking beautiful. You hated him for it.

And you didn't know why you did it. All you knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, you wanted to kiss him.

Air rushed out of his lungs as you did. It was strange, you expected anger, definitely regret, but all you felt was satisfaction.

Fred took a second before he pushed back into the kiss, his hands still cupping your face. Yours ran through his hair.

That yearning, the strange feeling of waiting you both held in your bodies for so long finally felt relieved as your lips opened and closed around each other.

You’d slept in his bed last night, now you were practically making out with him. What the hell were you doing?

Fred was the first to pull away, his chest heaving and swollen lips. Fred didn’t look regret-filled either but he also didn’t look ecstatic or happy.

He looked…unsure, which was exactly how you felt.

His eyes darted all along your face, taking in your features, analyzing them, trying to figure out what your puzzling expression was.

Though you knew what you wanted to do, you wanted to kiss him again. You leaned in then stopped yourself, pushing yourself completely away from him.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly to yourself, stress taking over your face as you pressed the balls of your palms against your eyes. “What am I doing?”

Fred whispered your name, disappointed at your sudden denial. You stared at him with puffy eyes, the lamp showed the shine of a tear that fell down his face. The guilt was eating at you now.

“Fred…we can’t. I can’t….I just. Fuck.” You rubbed your hands down your face, nearly running out the room and down the steps. Fred followed suit but stopped at the doorway of his room. Watching you dart away once again, you didn’t stop moving until you were outside.

Fred stepped back and rubbed a hand against his cheek, then using two fingers to wipe his watering eyes.

You sat on the wooden bench outside, your back against the table connected to it. Hunched over with your head in your hands.

With no idea of what you were doing, what you just did, and why you ran out on Fred, you moved your hands from your head to your face.

You were a complete idiot. A complete and utter asshole for what you were doing. You’ve begun to mess with Fred’s head as much as he’s been messing with yours.

You wouldn’t blame him if he held a forever grudge against you for this, you’d understand if he began to resent you.

The door leading into the kitchen creaked open. You brought your head up slowly, even though you really didn’t want to. Knowing who it would be.

“Hey.” Fred had his hands tucked into his pockets, a painfully awkward look on his face. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I deserve to be asked that.” You let out a breathy laugh. Fred puffed out his bottom lip and shrugged. Moving to sit down next to you on the bench.

The two of you sat in silence, you sat up fully, resting your hand in your lap and fiddling your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to run away like that. I just wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I get it, there was a lot happening in one moment.” Fred lied, he honestly didn’t get it. He wondered why you couldn’t just come to your senses with your feelings.

“It was rude of me though. I’m just not sure about anything really.” You sighed.

Fred rested his hand over yours in a sympathetic way.

“How about we just stay here, as friends? It’d be really nice to call you my friend after all these years.” He chuckled. “I’m just glad we’re not at each other's throats anymore.”

“Yeah. Yeah we can be friends.” You nodded slightly, voice hoarse when the words came out.

“Okay.” A weak grin took over his face.

“Okay.”

It’s hard to stay as friends when you’ve already kissed him.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @livingdeadgirlflorette @getthefuckoutofhereidiot @merikaberika @beomibeom @sleepygirlsworld @rookiegoose @suna-rintired @imamexican @whotfskai @miaandthediamonds @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx @fweasleys @m1chellerak

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #anyone but you universe

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levisjinchuriki · 3 months ago

Text

forever yours - chapter 2

summary: satoru expresses his deep regret and desire to fix things, revealing his struggle with the thought of you moving on.

warning: more angst

word count: 2.9k

“you need to get out more” mei mei scolds over the phone. she, along with a dozen of your closest friends, has tried her best to get you back into the dating scene. your heart knew you weren’t ready for that big of a step, so you declined every time. you know their intentions are pure, and you appreciate it, but it doesn’t feel right.

“i’m not ready” you sigh. it was still too early for you to think about the possibility of falling for someone again. you still had to move on from gojo, and even that was proving itself to be difficult.

“i’m not saying you have to marry the guy”, she laughs. mei mei had taken the liberty of setting you up with someone in the corporate office. she claimed he was nice, handsome, rich– the only quality she really cared about. it was only wednesday, meaning you still had a few days to back out.

“just go out, let him pay for your dinner, maybe have some fun after…” she suggests teasingly. you groan at the suggestion.

“you owe it to yourself to have at least one night where you’re not sulking” she continues, her voice softening as she tries to coax you into giving yourself a break, even if just for one evening.

you consider her words, letting them sink in. for the last six months, your life has revolved around taking care of Haru and feeling the heavy, persistent ache of your husband’s absence. each day has been a blur of routines—getting haru ready for school, managing meals, keeping the house in order—while your mind drifts to thoughts of what once was and what could have been.

nights are the hardest, the loneliness settling in as you replay old memories, wondering how things went so wrong. the vibrant parts of you, the ones that used to laugh, dream, and hope, have slowly dimmed, replaced by the overwhelming responsibility of being a single parent and the lingering pain of a love that didn’t last.

mei mei’s suggestion– although daunting– feels like a lifeline, a chance to reconnect with a piece of yourself that you’ve buried under the weight of loss and routine. but even as you consider it, a part of you hesitates, clinging to the familiar pain, unsure if you’re ready to let it go and take a step toward moving on.

“what’s the worst that can happen?” she asks, her tone playful. the question catches you off guard, and despite yourself, you laugh. there’s plenty that could go wrong—a bad date, awkward conversations, the possibility of feeling even more alone afterward—but all those things would pale in comparison to the hurt you’ve already endured.

you glance over at haru, who’s peacefully coloring on the floor in the living room, his little face focused and content. the sight of him, so innocent and untouched by the turmoil you’ve experienced tugs at your heart. he deserves a mother who isn’t weighed down by the past, someone who can find happiness again, even if it’s just a glimmer.

hesitantly, you agree to her offer.

“alright, fine,” the words slip out before you can second-guess them. you sigh deeply, rubbing your eyes in disbelief, as if trying to convince yourself that you’re really going to go through with this. the thought of putting yourself out there again feels surreal, a mix of anxiety and reluctant anticipation bubbling up inside you. hopefully this small step is what you need to start finding yourself again.

–

saturday approaches quickly. with haru at his dad’s for the weekend you're left alone with your thoughts, and the immense anxiety brewing within you. it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this, and the uncertainty gnaws at you, making you question if you’re really ready.

as the afternoon turns into evening, you reluctantly begin to get ready. as you slip into your dress the weight of the evening ahead presses down on you. you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the nerves. you fight the urge to cancel at the last minute. one call, one text, and you could be free of this anxiety. but then you think of mei mei, of haru, and of the part of yourself that you’ve neglected for too long. you’ve survived worse; surely, you can survive one date.

you check your reflection once more, trying to see the person you used to be—the one who wasn’t afraid of new experiences, who could step into the unknown with confidence. it reflects a version of yourself that feels both familiar and distant.

as you head towards your destination, your thoughts swirl in a chaotic mix of hope, fear, and uncertainty. you wonder what ryo– your date for the evening– will be like, whether the conversation will flow or falter, and if you’ll even be able to enjoy yourself.

the restaurant is a cozy little spot downtown, and your date seems kind, attentive, and easy to talk to. mei mei was right– ryo is undeniably handsome. his dark, neatly styled hair complements his sharp features and his eyes are warm and kind as he greets you. he’s everything you should be looking for: stable, charming, and uncomplicated.

throughout the evening, ryo displays the manners of a true gentleman—holding doors open, making thoughtful conversation, and showing genuine interest in your conversation. his polite laughter and attentiveness make you feel valued, and his gestures are considerate, ensuring you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself.

despite all this, you can’t help but draw comparisons between him and gojo. ryo’s qualities are admirable, but they are different from what you were used to, making the evening feel like a bittersweet reminder of the intensity you once had in your life. his charm and politeness stand in stark contrast to gojo’s more magnetic, sometimes overwhelming presence. gojo’s eyes, with their piercing, electrifying blue, had a way of making you feel seen in a way that ryo’s gentle gaze doesn’t quite match. the confident, almost reckless allure of gojo’s personality—his playfulness, his intensity—seems to linger in your mind, making ryo’s more restrained demeanor feel somewhat subdued in comparison.

as the night winds down, ryo walks you to your car with a respectful and gentle demeanor, making sure you’re safe and comfortable. he smiles kindly as he expresses hope for another date. he doesn’t try to kiss you, which you appreciate. you’re not sure how you would have reacted if he had.

—-

meanwhile, haru was enjoying his weekend with his dad. he was his usual energetic self, bouncing from one activity to the next, filling the apartment with his bright laughter. satoru found himself reveling in the moments of pure joy, grateful that he had the time with his son.

when they both settle on the couch after dinner, gojo turns on haru’s favorite movie, knowing he’ll fall asleep soon.

“daddy” haru began, his voice muffled as he snuggles closer under the blanket they’re sharing. gojo hums.

“do you think mommy is having fun on her date?”. the question hangs in the air, freezing satoru in place. he turns to haru, trying to keep his expression neutral even though his mind is racing.

“what date?” he asks as calmly as he can manage. haru looks up at him, blinking innocently. he doesn’t even realize he’s sold you out. gojo isn’t entirely sure if he comprehends what a date between adults means.

“the one she was talking about on the phone” he answers honestly. satoru feels his heart drop. he wasn’t aware that you had started to move on. it was always a possibility–being that you two were no longer together, but the thought still made his stomach turn.

he wonders if you’ve already found someone else and questions if haru has already been introduced to the man that could potentially replace him. despite all that, he remains calm on the outside, forcing a smile.

“oh, i see. i’m sure we can ask her about it tomorrow” gojo offers.

haru seems satisfied with that response, snuggling back down under the blanket, oblivious to the internal battle raging within his father. gojo watches his son for a moment, the weight of the situation settling heavily on him. it’s real, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

—

gojo’s figure stands tall in your doorway as he drops off haru. he’s dressed casually in a plain black shirt and jeans, his white hair tousled as always. he carries an easy confidence that makes your heart skip a beat, even now.

you greet haru with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before setting him down so he can go play. he’s quick to run to the living room where you’ve already laid out his toys for him.

“hey,” gojo greets as he comes inside to set haru’s bags down.

“hey,” you reply, trying to keep your tone neutral. “how was the weekend?”.

“great”. there’s a casualness in his demeanor, but you can hear the tension beneath his tone.

you nod, stepping into the kitchen to prepare a snack for haru to distract you from the awkwardness. gojo follows close behind, he leans against the counter as his eyes quietly observe your every move. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and it makes the air in the room feel heavier. he’s always had a way of looking at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the world, but today, there’s something different.

“how was your date?” gojo blurts out. his voice lacks malice, but you’re aware he’s not genuinely interested in the details.

your heart skips a beat. mei mei isn't the type to tell gojo about your date, being they’re not close. and you’re certain ryo doesn’t know gojo personally. professionally, sure, but not to the point of the two men engaging in casual conversation for something like that to be brought up.

“seems we have a little spy on our hands” he replies in amusement. you look down, feeling caught. you were sure haru was preoccupied with coloring during your conversation the other night. even if he did overhear you, you hadn’t expected him to repeat the information, especially not to his dad.

“it wasn’t anything serious” you admit, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you, though you can’t quite place why. maybe it’s the unspoken tension between you, or the fact that even though you’re no longer together and discussing your personal life with him feels strangely intimate, almost like a betrayal of the past you shared. or maybe it’s because you knew you weren’t ready to put yourself out there in the first place.

gojo doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he watches you, his expression unreadable. the silence between you stretches out, filled with all the things neither of you are willing to say. his eyes betray a flicker of something deeper—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe even hurt.

“you don’t owe me an explanation. we’re… separated, and you have every right to see other people”. his words catch you off guard. you look at him with furrowed brows, not expecting that sort of answer. you thought for sure he’d be mad. instead, he stands before you with an expression that’s almost too calm, too accepting. there’s no bitterness in his voice, no trace of the jealousy you were bracing for. in its place is a sadness in his eyes that tugs at something deep within you.

“but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me.” he admits. the confession hangs between you, raw and unguarded. it’s a glimpse into his vulnerability, a side of him that’s rarely seen. you’re struck by the honesty of his words, and the impact they have on you is immediate. the realization that he’s still affected by your decisions, that there’s a part of him that’s struggling with the separation, hits you hard.

you look away, certain that your resolve will break under his gaze.

“satoru, we both knew this was going to happen eventually. we’re trying to move on with our lives”. you’re not sure if you’re trying to remind him or convince yourself. maybe a bit of both.

he steps closer, his presence enveloping you in that overwhelming, familiar way that makes it hard to breathe.

“i don’t want to move on from you,” he says, his voice low and almost desperate. “i don’t want to think about you with someone else”. you can feel the intensity of his gaze. the rawness in his voice shakes you. the distance you’ve been trying to maintain suddenly feels fragile. he’s the only man in the world who has the power to break you like this, to make you question the choices you’ve made and the path you’re on. his emotions pierce through the defenses you’ve built, leaving you grappling with the enormity of the feelings you still have for him.

your breath catches in your throat. this was what you’ve feared—what you’ve tried so hard to avoid. falling back into him.

“satoru, we can’t” you say, the words coming out more pleading than you intend.

“i know,” he replies, stepping closer to you. this is closer than you’ve been in a long time. “but i can’t just let you go. thinking of you with someone else—it’s killing me.”. gojo takes your hand, running his thumb along your ring finger—now bare. the simple gesture feels heavy with meaning, a reminder of the life and love you once shared. it feels like so long ago now.

his admission is raw, and the pain in his eyes mirrors the turmoil inside you. the gentle touch of his hand, the sincerity in his voice, makes it hard to maintain your emotions. you want to be strong, to keep the walls you’d built firmly in place, but he always had a way of dismantling them with just a few words.

“we tried to make it work before and look where we are now. we can’t keep living in the past” you whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

gojo shakes his head, stepping even closer. his gaze is intense, a mix of regret and determination. if he’s honest with himself, he knows he didn’t put in the effort to mend the relationship as much as he should have. he was always so consumed by work, pushing you to the side until it became unbearable for you. the realization that he neglected you has weighed heavily on him the last six months.

he understands that he might not deserve another chance or your trust, but he’ll try his hardest to prove otherwise. he wants to be a family again. he didn’t fully appreciate what he had until it was gone, taken away by his own doing. the realization hits him hard: he had taken the stability and love of his family for granted, and now he’s left with the painful understanding of how much he truly values it.

“i’m willing to do whatever it takes. just… don’t give up on us”.

you feel a whirlwind of emotions. there’s a deep ache in your chest, a painful tug of longing that his presence and words stir within you. the vulnerability in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice pull your heart, making it difficult to ignore the love that still lingers.

at the same time, there’s an intense level of fear. the weight of the past hurts and the uncertainty of whether things can truly change makes you hesitant and guarded.

“satoru…” you’re not sure what to say. it was a big request and involved so many risks. too many to just blindly agree to.

a tear slips down your cheek. gojo’s gaze remains steady, his eyes filled with a mixture of anxiety and tenderness. he reaches out to cup your cheek, gently wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb. you have to resist the natural urge to lean into his touch. it’s bittersweet being held by him.

“i don’t want to lose you” he murmurs. “i can’t lose you”. the desperation in his voice breaks your heart and makes it hard to stay indifferent. his eyes, shimmering with unspoken pain and hope, seem to reach into your soul.

“there’s so much to talk about” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need time”. the decision wasn’t just about you or satoru. it was about haru, and the life you want to build for him. you had been so determined to move on, to create a safe, stable environment for your son, but maybe there was a way to do that with satoru by your side.

gojo’s expression softens, a mixture of relief and hope crossing his features. he nods slowly, understanding the weight of your request. he’s happy you’re at least willing to think it over. it’s a small, but significant victory.

“i’ll wait,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “i'll give you all the time you need”.

the words hang between you, a promise wrapped in vulnerability and patience. you nod, grateful for his understanding yet overwhelmed by the enormity of the decision before you. the weight of the past six months, the effort to create a stable life for haru, and the complexities of your relationship with satoru all swirl together, creating a storm of emotions that you need to navigate carefully.

the path ahead is uncertain, filled with potential for both joy and heartache. but for now, you allow yourself a moment to breathe, to collect your thoughts, and to prepare for the conversations and decisions that lie ahead.

---

ch 3>

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

(tagging some people who liked the previous chapter. plz lmk if you want to be removed <3)

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#jjk x reader #jjk au #jjk #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo jjk #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #levisjinchuriki #my works

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the-californicationist · 9 months ago

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Sending hugs as always!!!! Soooo, another request with no rush intended. Not sure if you are familiar with “Cool.” Gwen Stefani song and video. Love lost but no love lost. Rainy days and nights. He sees you with your “new” love. All the memories come rushing back, and he has to have you!!!! Dripping wet in his fit!! Maybe he tries to sneak away with you?! You’re the genius!! Still loving your Fluff and Stories on AO3. Thanks always!! ❤️💜

hey babe!! love this ask. sorry for the wait! <3 <3 trying to get out chapter 2 of bear price before the weekend, but this one just wouldn't leave my WIP station, so i had to get it done. very cool premise. hope this comes close to what you wanted!!

Cloudy, with a Chance

John Price was not having a good day. He’d had worse days, to be sure, but as he trudged through yet another puddle, soaked through with this torrential rain, freezing to his bones, he thought it had turned out pretty bloody bad.

For one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your laugh and the stuttering hello of your voicemail greeting were taunting him like a vicious demon, and every time he brought himself to pleasure, it was your sweet moans that flooded through his mind. He’d also come back from the field to find his truck broken into and his storage unit payment almost three months overdue. Getting all of his belongings back in order had been a real fucking drag. None of this would’ve happened if you were still there.

But, you weren’t.

You’d left him before his last tour, and that was almost six months ago. He could still hear your complaints in his mind, clear and orderly, like a list of commandments:

I’m tired of being left alone, John!

I can’t keep wondering if every phone call is about to tell me you’ve died.

You promised you’d be here for me, and you’re not.

I’m not stitching up another bullet hole. I can’t.

How much more of yourself are you going to give them? They don’t deserve you.

What if I need you?

It had been a rough tour. He’d called you a few times, and when you’d answered, the guilt rent through his heart like a stake.

“John? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Aye, I’m fine. Lads are fine. Just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“It’s alright, John. I’m here.”

And you had been. You were still there for him. Sometimes, when he got your voicemail, he thought he’d reached the end of your generosity, but that wasn’t the hardest part. No, the worst thing was coming home to empty drawers and his toothbrush, lonely in its glass, all by itself.

As he sheltered under the awning of a Nero’s coffee shop, he tried to get his bearings, deciding whether or not to wait out the storm. It was only by chance that he glanced into the window at Capello’s, and it was only by chance that the waiter had sat you and your date in the window seat.

His breath caught in his chest when he realized it was you, and his shock turned from yearning to sadness to rage in the blink of an eye. Who was that muppet with his bloody fuckin’ hands all over you? You were his.

Except you weren’t his. Not anymore.

No, fuck that.

He marched across the street, paying no mind to the honking traffic. A brief argument with the maître d' and he was through to the dining room.

“John?” Your voice had an edge of panic, and your eyes were focused on him as he dripped his way across the carpet.

In fact, all eyes were on him, but he didn’t care.

Your date looked more than a little put out, but when he started to stand up, Price grabbed his shoulder with no small amount of cruelty and shoved him back into his seat.

“What’re you doin’ here, love? You fuckin’ hate Capello’s.”

“I don’t…” You looked around, lowering your voice, trying to get him to match your volume, “I’m on a date, Jonathan.”

“Don’t be stupid. You need to come home. I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you, and I don’t care who bloody knows it. I need you, love. Please.”

“You can’t keep doing this! I deserve to have someone who is there for me when I need them to be,” you raised your voice again, frustrated by his words.

Good. He liked it when you got all worked up.

“And you think this muppet can do more than me? Please.”

John rolled his eyes. The muppet tried to protest, moving to stand up again, only to be shoved back into position.

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to notice just how small your date was compared to your ex-boyfriend. John towered over him, and his thigh was more than twice the size of this guy’s bicep. Seeing John’s huge hand covering this man’s frail-looking shoulder kind of gave you the ick for your date.

You also tried to ignore your captain’s field-hardened body. He always came home so much more muscular, and so much larger, than he looked when he left. He was still soaking wet from the rain, drenched in his hoodie and tac-jacket. His canvas pants clung to his skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. But, that didn’t matter. You were imagining it anyway.

What you couldn’t ignore was that cold, blue hunger in his eyes. His beard had grown out, and the scruff combined with his long hair, all raked back under that disgusting boonie hat, were doing things to you that made you clench your legs together, becoming acutely aware of how every piece of fabric felt as it touched your body, and you knew exactly how it would feel when he ripped it off of you.

“Uh, hey. Listen, mate —” The date tried to protest weakly.

“Shut up,” you and John spat at your date at the same time.

John smiled at that, warming himself in your fire,

“C’mon, love. We’re leaving.”

He tossed a few wet hundred pound notes down on the table, not giving a shit if it was enough or not, and lifted the open bottle of wine from the ice bucket. His gaze fell to your date for a fleeting second, and he said,

“Cheers, mate.”

His hand grabbed yours and helped you from your seat, leading you outside. Once he had you back in your coat, he took you out into the rain, keeping his warm palm planted on the small of your back, and he didn’t say one single word to you until you were back in the foyer of his flat, dripping onto the marble tiles, panting and breathless in the quiet entrance, listening to his keys jingle in the lock.

“Let’s get you dry, love. Then,” he was breathless from the rain and from something else, “We’ll get your things. Put them back where they go, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, shivering from the cold,

“Yeah. Okay, John.”

“Get inside, love. That a new dress?”

“Mmhm,” you let him towel you dry in the entrance, feeling how strong he was even though you knew he was trying to be gentle with you.

“Take it off.”

His voice had a tone that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on its end. You followed his command almost immediately, feeling your body rush with shock and excitement.

John caught you by your arms and shoved you against the wall in the foyer, his eyes bearing down into you with a fiery intensity you’d never seen. He spoke through his teeth, gravelly and dark, full of warning,

“You belong here with me. I don’t want any more dates. I want you to be mine, and I bloody well want to be yours. Let me.”

“Alright, John,” you whispered, holding your breath, nervous and waiting.

“Don’t,” he pressed his forehead against yours like he had a fever, “Don’t say yes unless you mean it, love.”

You pushed his head back with yours just enough to reach his cheek. You kissed it as softly as you could, moving down his jaw and onto his neck, feeling his blood rush through his veins warming his skin beneath your lips.

His hands fell away from your arms and you grabbed his hands, holding them in yours, still speaking to him in a low whisper, not wanting to break his spell,

“I’m yours, John. You’re all I have thought about for six months, and I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know what I was saying…”

He grabbed you on either side of your face and kissed you deeply, pushing his body into yours, grinding his wet clothes into you, and not caring a bit about the puddle on the floor,

“Shh. You’re mine. That’s all I need to hear.”

You looked into each others’ eyes and got lost for a moment. The blues of his irises were icy and sharp, tracking your every movement, your every breath. His sudden command pulled you out of your trance,

“Take off your dress.”

John watched you as you slipped the straps off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him, your nipples pebbled from the cold, damp cloth. It fell, cascading down your body, showing off the black lace panties you wore underneath. Your strappy heels kicked the gown away from you, and you squirmed under his scrutiny,

“Were you gonna show him these?” John’s fingertips grazed the panties right above your clit, making little petting strokes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” you lifted your chin, challenging him, willing to face his jealous wrath.

“Yeah?” John growled, taking your bait, fisting your dripping hair in his hand and forcing your head back, baring your smooth neck to him, “On a first date? You must have been hungry for it, love.” He taunted you, touching your lips through the lace.

“Second date…” You flashed your eyes up at him, knowing he would snarl, and he did.

“Second… Mm,” John grabbed the panties by the front fabric and ripped them from your hips with one cruel tug. You gasped, and he caught your mouth with his, kissing you as his fingers found a different kind of wetness pooling between your legs, “My poor darling. You know he wouldn’t be enough for you. You’d have been so… fucking… disappointed...”

With every word of his last phrase, he thrust his fingers inside of you to their knuckle, lifting your body as he did so, his strength fully apparent.

“Did you miss me?” He asked you quietly. All the anger was gone from his tone, and a somber desperation was back.

“Yes, my love. I did,” you kissed him as sweetly as you could, telling him the truth.

“Fuck,” he grimaced, “I missed you.”

Suddenly, you were airborne, lifted into his arms and being carried into the adjacent kitchen. He sat you on the counter, shoving stacks of unread mail and keys onto the floor. You helped him strip off his wet clothes, pulling his hoodie and his jacket from his back, watching with admiration as he tugged off his undershirt, revealing his damp, furry chest, all of his dark hair laying matted against his skin. He was tanned and burned from the desert sun in odd tan lines, proof of his work, and your hands felt his sculpted form with joy, exploring all of him with abandon.

You knocked off his boonie hat and watched him rake his hair back again, trying to keep it out of his face. It was straight in the front, but it began to curl when it reached his ears, wild and unkempt.

Then, you heard the buckle jingle, and that familiar tool of his fell from the open folds of his pants. It was just as you had dreamt it, heavy and large, throbbing and flushed, excited to see you. He dipped the head of it into your lips, rubbing himself back and forth through your wetness, making you moan.

“Oh, fuck… There you are. My girl. Needed you. Fuck, I needed you.” He wasn’t talking to you. Not really. He was sort of lamenting aloud, lost in his selfish thrusting, slicking himself in the softness of your body, bumping your clit on the way up and teasing your hole on the way down.

Finally, he positioned himself at your center, carefully aligned with your tight opening, and he commanded you once more,

“Spread your legs for me. Show me. I wanna see you… that’s it. So damn pretty.”

“John, please…” You begged, touching yourself, trying to show him how ready you were.

He chuckled, pressing just the tip of his head into you, making you writhe,

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours…” You whispered, feeling particularly naughty about this call and response.

“Whose!” He got in your face, close enough to kiss you but holding himself back, his voice louder and more forceful.

“Yours! It’s yours. Please, fuck me, John,” you pleaded, gasping from being so near to your release and not being able to reach it.

“Mine,” he thrust himself into you and watched you fall apart, feeling you pulse around him uncontrollably, “My fuckin’ pussy. All mine.”

He found a rhythm, but it was punishing. You had orgasm after orgasm pulled from you cruelly. There was no lovemaking. He was claiming you. You were familiar with his need after his tour, especially if it had been particularly difficult, but six months of not knowing if he’d ever see you again had made him rabid. Each thrust was like the touch of a glowing brand, marking you as his, reminding you of where you found your pleasure.

You were not in control, not anymore. Any of your goading or teasing was immediately quashed by his dominance. You were just a mixture of screaming bliss and sopping, milking noises, made by his effort between your legs.

Frustrated that he couldn’t fuck you deeper, he pulled you from the countertop and down onto the cold tile floor. You were crawling onto the soft kitchen mat on your hands and knees, trying to catch your bearings when you felt him position himself behind you.

He grabbed your hair and pulled you into a high arch, shoving his fat cock back into you, sighing with relief as he did so, praising you in muttered, grunting words.

He began to slam himself back into you, somehow feeling harder and thicker than before, filling you up to your limit.

“Fuck!” You moaned, “Fuck…”

“Is that what you needed, love? Hm?” He leaned his body over yours like a hound, whispering into your neck.

“Yes, yes, yes yes…” You could barely breathe.

“Needed your man, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, please…” Whatever words came to mind, you said them. You didn’t care. You could barely put a coherent thought together much less a full sentence.

“I’m gonna fuck you like this until you can’t even remember his goddamn name.”

You smiled, cock-drunk and high from your repeated pleasure, peeking at him over your shoulder,

“Whose name?”

He laughed like a demon, fucking you faster, chasing his end,

“That’s my girl.”

When he lost his steady, pumping rhythm, he began to let out a barking shout, and you felt his come begin to drip from his body and into yours, heating you up in your core. He pushed his cock through it, frothing it inside of you, letting it drip down his shaft and coat his hair.

He fell out of you, sitting back on his knees, pulling you into his lap with his last ounce of strength, and leaned against the kitchen cabinets, legs spread, holding you to his chest. John was breathing hard, his eyes shut. You reached up and touched his bottom lip, earning your fingertips a soft kiss.

John opened his eyes and looked down at you, holding you close, begging you,

“Don’t leave me, baby. Please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere, John. I’m right here,” you told him, petting his chest in comforting strokes, breathing hard with him.

“Stay,” he whispered, so low you almost couldn’t hear him, “Please, stay.”

You kissed his neck and whispered back,

“I’ll stay. Forever. I promise.”

Your tired captain pulled you tighter into him, leaning a sweaty cheek against your forehead, smiling slightly, finally at some kind of peace.

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty #x female reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader

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hihomeghere · 2 months ago

Text

Baptized by Fire : Chapter one

Summary : After running from your past you find yourself facing certain death out in a blizzard. Thankfully you’re rescued, but what happens when you have to ride out the rest of the winter with the two men who rescued you? An RDR2 AU where Arthur followed Charles to Canada. Arthur x reader x Charles. Word count : 4.3k (I’m pretty proud of this one not gonna lie) Warnings/tags : Abuse, bruises, blood, guns, talk of death, religious themes, nudity, reader has female genitalia and is referred to as ‘she’, cursing, Arthur had TB but survived and now has chronic issues because of it, let me know if I missed any.

You had never cared for the cold. Why your family had decided to settle where the ground was covered in frost and snow most months out of the year was beyond you. You tried your hardest to spend as little time outside during the winter months. Taking as long as possible to complete your tasks inside before venturing out into the cold, even if it cost you a beating. Now you found yourself completely at a blizzard's mercy. The wind was nearly deafening, the force of it causing you to stumble through the thick blanket of snow. Your boots doing little to keep out the cold, having lost feeling in your toes shortly after you ran from the one place you had called home.

If you could even call it ‘home’. The events of the last day playing over in your mind. Your fathers words echoing in your ears.

“Damn stupid child!” He yelled, his words slurred as he stumbled towards you. You ran to get out of his grasp, his hand grabbing a hold of your hair. You yelped, tears stinging your eyes as you were pulled back into his chest. Your scalp ached as he pulled your head back at an unnatural angle. “You never done me any good, never!” He hissed in your ear, his breath reeking of liquor. You felt the hot tears roll down your cheeks as you clawed at the hand holding your hair. Successfully digging your nails into his flesh as he cried out in pain, throwing you to the floor.

“Fucking bitch!” He spit, his foot landing a blow to your ribs, leaving you gasping for breath. “It’d do you good to learn some damn respect!” He spit, turning his back to you as he went to grab another bottle. You clutched at your side, sucking in any air that you could use to fill your lungs. Each breath burning like hot coals.

Your hands grabbed for anything to help you get back to your feet. Wrapping around the back of a chair as you pulled yourself to your feet. What happened next was a blur. You didn’t even realize you had grabbed the shotgun off the mantle until it kicked back. Your arms aching as you stumbled backwards. Your finger falling off the trigger as your back hit the wall. Your eyes fell upon the body of your father, gasping on the ground. Blood pooling under him as his mouth opened and closed like a damn fish.

The gun slipped out of your grasp as your hands flew to cover your mouth. Bile spewed between your fingers as it shot up your throat and out your mouth. You gagged and spit, collapsing in on yourself as you sunk to the floor. Tears stinging your eyes as you retched.

You don’t know how long you watched him. Each slow breath was accompanied by the sick gurgle of blood. At some point the sound stopped, along with his heart. Whether it was minutes or hours later you didn’t know. What you did know was something made you run. It could have been the sickly stench of blood, or his cold unblinking stare. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was now no undoing what was done. That you had fought and now you were fleeing.

You had left the house with only the clothes on your back. A terribly foolish thing in hindsight. Now you were going to meet a similar fate as your father, freezing to death out in the cold. At least someone would find your fathers body, yours on the other hand would be lost until spring. Even then, it was more likely for an animal to find it than a person. The thought of some animal gnawing on your bones sent a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures. You clutched your hands together, trying to rub feeling back into your fingers, but to no avail. Your legs would no longer move, fighting against the signals sent by your brain.

Up ahead sat a dark figure on a horse, a pale horse. The snow seemingly parted around him as he approached.

This was it. Death had come to claim your soul. You would die frozen and a murderer. God have mercy on you.

If you were in hell, the flames of damnation were much more pleasant than painful. The crackling of the fire was almost comforting, and the heat was heavenly. You blinked your eyes open, the flames in the fireplace dancing before you. You relished in the feeling of the warm pelts draped over your bare body. Bare body? Your cheeks burned as you pulled the furs tighter around you. Whoever had rescued you, if you could call it a rescue, you hadn’t decided yet- had stripped you as well.

“Charles, she’s awake.” A gruff southern voice cut through your thoughts. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, fear shot through you like a lightning strike as your eyes landed on a man sitting in a rocking chair.

A man had rescued you. A man had stripped you.The fire no longer eased the trembling of your body as you scrambled backwards. Backing yourself into a corner.

His lips were set in a thin line, light stubble dusting his face. His blue eyes pierced through you as you meet his gaze. Something about him seemed so familiar, although his piercing gaze made you lower your eyes.

The other man’s, Charles, heavy footsteps caught your attention as he walked over to the unnamed man. Dark skin, long hair, chestnut brown eyes. A scar that ran along his cheek like a lightning strike. Not one but two men.

“So she is.” He said to his partner, eyeing you like you might bolt any second. Which you had thought about, but you could still hear the storm raging outside. It would be a death wish to go out in that again, you realized that now. “Excuse me miss?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head slightly.

You swallow thickly, only realizing how damn dry your throat was as you tried to speak.

“Where am I?” You asked, trying to put on a false front of confidence as you pulled the skins tighter around your body.

“About a mile north of where I found you out stumbling in the snow.” Charles answered, taking a tentative step toward you.

“Where are my clothes?” You asked, your stomach dropping as he inched closer. You pulled the furs tighter around your naked body, knowing full well that either of them could easily overpower you. If they wanted to carry out some sick and twisted torture, you would be at their mercy.

Charles raised his hands in a small surrender, “There, had to hang them up to dry.” He said, motioning to a primitive clothesline near the fire. Something you must have missed when crawling away from them. “The fire wouldn’t have done you any good if you were in those wet clothes. It’s why we… well you know.” He said, “They should be dry by now, you were out for quite awhile.” Your eyes flick between the two men and your clothes. Charles takes two steps back, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor of the cabin. You scrambled forward, snatching your clothes off the line before retreating back to your corner. The other man scoffs, crossing his arms as he looks out the window at the storm.

“The hell were you doing out in the middle of a goddamn blizzard with nothin’?”

“Arthur-“ Charles' warning tone cut through the cabin as he met Arthur’s eyes.

“It’s an honest question.” He huffed as he looked up at Charles, his jaw set. “No one would go out into something like that if they weren’t runnin’ from somethin’.” He said, giving Charles a look. You swallowed thickly, pursing your lips as the two men seemed to communicate without speaking.

“What were you doing out there then?” You asked, breaking the tense silence. “Were you running from something?”

“I wasn’t the one who was out there.” He hissed, turning his fierce gaze back to you.

“I was.” Charles answered, so he was the one who rescued you.

“If it was me I would have left your sorry ass out there.” Arthur mumbled, Charles shot him a glare before he looked back at you.

“I got lost.” You said, pulling your warm clothes against your body.

“Yeah no shit.” Arthur huffed, “But that don’t answer my question. What were you doing out there in the first place?” He said, narrowing his eyes.

“I-“

“She’s been through enough hasn’t she?” Charles cut you off, his baritone voice raising as he glared at Arthur. Arthur clenched his jaw, matching Charles glare. A moment passed as the two glared at each other before Arthur’s shoulders softened, letting out a sigh as he sat back in the rocking chair. Whatever unspoken argument they had had, Charles had won. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and we can have a civilized conversation.” Charles said, shooting Arthur a look.

You stared at the two men, frozen in their gaze.

“Oh for Christsake.” Arthur huffed before turning his head away from you. Charles followed suit, averting his eyes. You hastily put on your clothes, the residual warmth from the fire seeping into your bones.

“You can look now.” You said, once you were fully clothed. Arthur let out a sigh, his gaze falling on you once more.

“You’ll have to put up with us until the storm passes.” Charles said, crossing his arms as he looked at you. Sensing your unease he spoke again, “I know you have no reason to trust us, but we did save your life. Not to mention, if we wanted to hurt you we would have by now.” He said with a small shrug. You couldn’t deny the truth. They had seen you naked and at your most vulnerable, and they had done nothing to harm you. In fact, they had done everything to help you.

You were a fool for thinking you could survive on your own. You had no money, leaving all your possessions at your fathers house. The only clothes you had were the ones on your back. You regretted not thinking it through, not having a plan, but you didn’t regret taking that shotgun off the mantle.

“I won’t- I won’t be a burden to you two.” You said swallowing thickly. Arthur scoffed under his breath. “I can cook, clean, and mend anything that needs it.” You said, reinforcing your statement as your cheeks burned.

“It won’t be necessary.” Charles said, shaking his head.

“I insist.” You said cutting him off as you caught Arthur’s eye.

“If she insists, let the little lady help out.” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile on his lips.

Over the next couple of days you learned all the ins and outs of the small cabin. There was a main great room, with two bedrooms off of it.

Charles had given up his bed, letting you take over one of the bedrooms. Said he wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cot in Arthur’s room. You had assumed the two men had been living together longer than they’d had this cabin. They had most likely been sharing close quarters for awhile. Charles' style seemed to be minimal, the only personal items being a family picture and a few beaded necklaces. The room was hardly lived in, you supposed it was only used to sleep in. You didn’t dare ask to go into Arthur’s room, not wanting to spread what little hospitality he had towards you too thin.

Arthur had hardly warmed up to you over the few days you had been stuck together. He didn’t leave his chair often, and when he did he grumbled about his pains. Something about the cold caused his body to ache, you didn’t push for more information. Because of this he moved the rocking chair closer to the fireplace, which was always lit. You’d catch him staring off into the flames, an almost melancholy expression on his face.

You did your best not to be caught staring at the handsome man, he didn’t take too kindly to you ‘watching him’.

Charles wasn’t necessarily more talkative than his counterpart, but he didn’t mind your eyes on him. He tried in his own ways to loosen the tension between the three of you. He had taken you up on your offer to cook, although he couldn’t seem to stay out of the kitchen. Whether that be helping you chop up vegetables, or just to share your company.

Although he would leave for an hour or two every day to tend to the livestock they kept. you had learned that that was why Charles had been out in the storm that night. One of their cows had escaped the barn, instead Charles had brought you home.

“Charles.” Arthur pleaded, his voice low as he stood nearly chest to chest with Charles. He had been in the middle of putting on his snow gear when Arthur had stopped him.

“How many times do we gotta have this conversation?” Charles sighed, shaking his head. You pretended not to notice the tense moment between the two of them.

“I’m fine.” Arthur huffed, his hand brushing against Charles only for a moment before he crossed his arms, taking a step back.

“You're not.” He huffed, “It’s about as cold as Colter out there. We hardly survived that last time and now with your-“

“Fine.” Arthur snapped, storming back to the rocking chair. Charles sighed, hesitating by the door before he continued suiting up.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Charles said to the two of you. You gave him a small smile, Arthur on the other hand pretended he hadn’t heard him.

It was silent after Charles left. Arthur scribbled away at his journal while you tidied up around the cabin. You didn’t mind the work, you hadn’t wanted to take advantage of their kindness. You were dusting the mantle above the fireplace, clearing away tiny spiderwebs. Gently moving two hand carved wooden sculptures. One a bison, the other a buck with a great set of antlers. When your eyes fell on a rather detailed drawing of a small family. A man, with dark hair and jagged scars across his face. The woman with as equally dark hair, her hand resting on the shoulder of a young boy.

“Is this your family?” The question left your lips before you had the chance to think twice about opening your mouth.

Arthur’s expression darkened as he raised his eyes from the page.

“Sort of.” He grumbled, letting out a sigh. He got up, walking over to you before taking the drawing off the mantle. He stared at it for a moment before his gaze shifted back over to meet yours. “My brother.” He said pointing to the man with the scars, “His wife and son.” His jaw was clenched tight as he set the drawing back in its place.

“What happened to them?” You asked, looking up into his stormy blue eyes.

“What happens to all of us.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly, looking up at their smiling faces. He grunted, but it quickly turned into a nasty dry cough. He doubled over, holding onto the mantle as he sputtered.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your brows pulling together as you placed your hand on his shoulder. He tensed under your hand, his body shaking as pounded on his chest.

“Fine.” He said, clearing his throat. You removed your hand from his shoulder, feeling a deep pull in your belly as you stepped back. You bumped into his chair, catching yourself on the wooden back. Your eyes fell onto the open journal on the seat. Arthur followed your gaze, scrambling to close the book.

“Oh I-“ Heat flooded your cheeks, “don’t worry I can’t read.” You chuckled nervously as you looked down.

“You can’t-“ Arthur stuttered, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you in disbelief. “No one… no one ever taught you?” He asked.

“No, no my father he-“ You bit your bottom lip, your gaze on the wooden floor, “he didn’t think a woman should be educated.” You mumbled.

“What a goddamn simpleton.” He growled, clenching his jaw. His expression set into a scowl as he stood there with his hands on his hips. You raised your head to meet his eyes, a nervous smile on your lips as you tried to play it off.

“It’s alright.” You said, shaking your head, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. It would get you out of this pointless conversation. It wasn’t like you could attend school, not at your age.

“No it ain’t alright.” He huffed, closing his eyes as though it was physically paining him. “You- you ought to know how to read and write. Everyone should.” He said, shaking his head. He coughed again, although this time it seemed almost forced. It was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the crackling fire as the two of you avoided each other's gaze.

”I could teach you.” He mumbled.

“You could?” Your eyes widening at his offer.

“It ain’t nothin’.” He said, crossing his arms, looking off to the side. “We can start tomorrow.”

“Thank you- I mean it, thank you Arthur.”

“Don’t thank me,” He said, shaking his head as he picked up his journal. “I haven’t taught you anything yet.”

The cabin door swung open, the howling of the wind only intensifying without a barrier. Charles quickly entered, shutting the door behind him as he wiped snow off of his clothes and hat. He glanced between you and Arthur.

“Storm might break tonight.” He said, pulling off his gloves as he set them down on the kitchen table.

“Finally some good news round here.” Arthur said, sitting back down in the rocking chair.

The three of you sat down for supper at the wooden table in the middle of the cabin. You and Charles had managed to put together a nice stew. Thankfully the two of them understood the power of stocking up for winter. Something your father on the other hand did not. By early spring your clothes had normally begun to be too big on your frame, needing to be taken in to fit you. If you were to stay the rest of the winter you had no doubt you would have the opposite problem. The thought of staying with Arthur and Charles had become more and more appealing every day. Especially now that you might have the chance to better yourself. Learning to read and write, the thought of being able to pick up a book and actually understand the words. A smile twisted at your lips as you tried to hide your eagerness.

“I was thinking about bringing the tub in.” Charles said, breaking the silence as his spoon scraped along the bowl. “Might take awhile to fill it but it’d be worth it.” He said, shoveling a spoonful of stew into his mouth as he shrugged.

“Is it still on the porch?” Arthur asked, his tone almost aloof as he leaned back in his chair. Charles nodded, not raising his head to meet Arthur’s piercing gaze.

“Do you suppose I could wash up, too?” You asked, looking from one man to the other. They shared a look, before turning back to you.

“I don’t see why not.” Charles nodded, “You can take the first bath.” Returning his attention back to his bowl.

Arthur retired to his room as soon as the last bucket of hot water was added to the tub. Giving you privacy as he awaited his turn in the water.

You stood beside the tub, hesitating as you looked into the steaming water. You would have to wash your clothes in the tub along with your body. While you hadn’t necessarily been thinking when you ran out into the blizzard. You wished you would have had some forethought to pack a bag. It wasn’t like you could just hang your wet clothes by the fire and walk around the damn cabin naked. The thought of the two men seeing you like that once more sent heat throughout your body.

“Everything alright?” Charles' deep voice cut through your thoughts as he set the bucket down.

“I-I don’t have any clean clothes.” You said after a moment, rubbing your arms. Charles' head perked up at this, his eyebrows raising.

“Of course,” He said, his expression returning to a neutral one, “I can get you some of ours to wear while you clean yours.” He got to his feet, “Don’t undress just yet, I’ll be back.” He said before walking into Arthur’s room. You let your hand fall into the water, testing the temperature. Almost letting out a small moan as the warmth enveloped your hand. You couldn’t wait to climb in.

Charles returned with a sheepish smile, holding a flannel shirt and pants.

“I doubt you’ll fit into the pants but it’s the best we could do on short notice.” He chuckled, handing them to you. You grabbed them, your fingers brushing against his, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Thank you.” You said covering the hitch of your breath with a small cough.

“You’re welcome.” He said with a small nod, turning his broad back to you as he walked back to his room. “Knock against the wall once you are done.” He said before heading inside.

You set the fresh clothes beside the tub, your fingers unable to work as fast enough as you shedded your own. Unable to wait any longer, you stepped into the warm water. Your nipples hardened at the sudden shift in temperature.

This time you couldn’t contain the pleased hum that left your lips as you sank down into the water. The burn was pleasant on your sore body, easing the ache in your ribs. You grabbed the soap off the chair beside the tub. Lathering it up in your hands before you scrubbed your body. The marks along your ribs were no longer an angry purple. Now they were fading into a pale yellow.

You were thankful neither Charles or Arthur had said anything about them. It was embarrassing enough to take those beatings. Pointing them out would have been like rubbing salt in the wound.

But there would be no more beatings. No more. You were free, you could start over. You started to form a plan, cleansing yourself of your old life so you could start anew.

A baptism of fire. Once you could read and write, or once the snow melted enough, you would return home. You would bury your father, or feed him to the wolves, and start your new life.

You were thoroughly pruney when you got out of the tub. Quickly dressing and rushing to ‘your’ room. You knocked against the wall once, running your fingers through your hair as you prepared for bed.

You felt like a new person as you climbed under the mismatched quilt. You could hear Arthur, or maybe it was Charles, moving around in the living room. No doubt getting undressed and getting into the warm water. The wind no longer howled at the window, Charles was right about the storm breaking.

Although now you could clearly hear voices whispering in the main room. You knew you shouldn’t have listened, should have just ignored it and went back to bed.

Instead, you pulled back the blankets and slipped out of bed. You crept over to the door, pressing your ear against it.

“Don’t call me that.” Arthur huffed, his voice muffled by the door

“Why not? It’s not like she’s here.” Charles responded.

“Enough about her, can’t we just- just enjoy our time without her.” He grumbled. Your brows pinched together, a frown tugging at your lips. You didn’t think you were that annoying. You had tried to be helpful, you thought that they might have even been thankful for what you had done. Instead they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.

“Fine.” Charles said, letting out a sigh. You could hear the water sloshing around in the tub. “We can’t send her out on her own.”

“You think I don't know that?” Arthur hissed, “But she shouldn’t- she shouldn’t be here with us.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s good, Charles.” He paused, coughing. “She’s good and you know the kind of people we are.” It was silent, the only thing you could hear was your breathing.

What did he mean ‘kind of people they are’? They had been nothing but respectful and hospitable people. Or so you thought.

“We aren't those people anymore-“

“You were always a better man than me- my sins, I can’t just-“ you heard a splash, “wash the blood off my hands.” You covered your mouth, dampening the small gasp that left your lips. A killer, you were staying with criminals. Although, were you any different? You were a murderer, killing your father without a second thought.

“Stop.” Another pause, “We did what we had to to survive.”

“Don’t give me that shit-“ he’s overcome by another coughing fit. “What I did- that was for my own gain, and I’m paying for it every day.”

“Enough.” Charles cut him off, “Enough about her.”

You pulled back from the door, crawling back to your bed as silently as possible. You had heard enough. This didn’t change anything, you reminded yourself, your plan was the same. Once you were able, you would leave this cabin and never look back.

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tiredmamaissy · 8 months ago

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hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

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lovecla · 3 months ago

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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lovelyiida · 1 year ago

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THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 7: PASS THE SALT

"You know what they say about secretaries."

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER

SYNOPSIS: as the years went by... bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo wants to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording, and content.

❥ CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.8K

"A what?"

The revelation hit like an unfathomable wave, leaving Katsuki in utter shock and embarrassment. His words slipped out uncontrollably, and he hung his head low, attempting to collect himself before facing his parents' reactions.

With just a grunt escaping him, the blonde struggled to conjure up a somewhat plausible response. "Just… don't freak out. I've been meaning to say this for a while now, just couldn't find the time."

Deep into his face, palms buried, he rubbed his eyes, attempting to shake himself from the grave he had unwittingly dug.

"How long have you guys been dating? I mean, we're happy, right?" Bakugo's father sought assurance from his wife, but all he received was a long stare.

"Um, I've known her for a while, I guess—"

"Ya' guess? What's that supposed to mean?" Mitsuki interjected, a little disheveled from the news, trying her hardest to take things step by step.

"Please, let him speak," his father interjected.

Another loud pause set into motion, catching Katsuki off guard as he had not anticipated bringing up the topic of you that day. "We were talking, then we started to hang out, started to go out, and the rest was history—"

"What happened to not having time to do anything, since you're, y'know… putting our safety first?" Mitsuki quipped at the hero.

"I can still go out and find love; I'm not some sad and lonely prick!" Katsuki yelled. "If it makes you feel any better, she's my secretary. Still ass-deep in my work."

Katsuki's response earned a scoff from his mother. "I just don't understand why you couldn't tell us about this, of all things. These matters are very important. You didn't even ask for our blessing, Katsuki," she said.

He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was hurt, almost feeling a sense of betrayal. One of the most important moments of her son's life has passed and she wasn't a part of it.

"I want to meet her," she says, Katsuki's breath hitches.

Katsuki swallowed hard, the weight of the situation sinking in. He lifted his head, meeting his mother's gaze, and nodded hesitantly.

"Yeah, uh. I'll bring her over sometime soon. You can meet her, ask whatever the hell you want," he mumbled, trying to keep the conversation under control.

Mitsuki folded her arms, a mix of concern and curiosity etched across her face. "You better not be hiding anything else, Katsuki. We're your parents; we deserve to know what's going on in your life."

Bakugo's father, still trying to process the information, chimed in with a more composed tone. "Son, we just want to understand and be a part of your life. If you're serious about her, then we should support you. But communication is key. You can't just shut us out."

Katsuki sighed, "Yeah, I get it. I messed up, I'll tell her you wanna talk"

His mother's expression softened slightly, though traces of concern lingered. "Good. We're not here to judge; we just want what's best for you."

The tension in the room began to ease as the family started to navigate this unexpected revelation. As the married couple soon go their separate ways, Katsuki storms out of the house. Heading to his car, he jumps in with force.

"Fuck, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Looking out towards the distance he lays back into the seat with a drafted sigh. The blonde thinks hard about the decision he's made. He didn't want to rope you into the situation though he didn't have a choice. The old bats wouldn't get off his case (Katsuki self-sabotages quite often).

How the hell is he gonna break this down to you?

"He went to see his mom and dad?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

The redhead nods nervously, his hand reaching over to fiddle with the closest plant in range. The room falls into an awkward silence, and you find yourself shrugging in response. "Okay? I just don't understand why he couldn't tell me that..."

A thought crosses your mind, "It would've saved me a lot of trouble," you muse to yourself.

"It was so sudden, Ms. L/n, we had no idea—" Riot's explanation gets cut short by the sudden buzz of his phone. With a jolt, he quickly grabs it and stares at the screen. His eyes scan the messages with vigor as he quietly reads the words to himself. You can't help but be curious, "Is that Dynamight?" you ask.

The redhead's eyes shoot up to you for a split second, and then he continues reading. With a quick sigh, he places his phone down and puts his hand up against his temples, squeezing with firm resolve. "Uh... yeah, that was him."

Concern flickers in your eyes as you press further, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah! everything's fine; it's just Monday, y'know?" he says with an offputting chuckle. Your eyes narrow at him for a split second before scanning the room to check the clock.

"Well, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Riot, but I should get going. I have a meeting with my queen-sized bed." You chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. Giving the office cat one more affectionate pet, you rise out of your seat with ease and turn towards the door.

"Wait!"

Red Riot's voice booms through the room, causing you (and the cat) to jolt in surprise. "Dynamight's on his way; he really needs to see you," he says quickly. As you blink to process the information he just shared, you can't help but let out a defeated sigh. "So close," you whisper to yourself. Releasing the doorknob, you turn around, putting on your best business-coded smile.

"Sure, just tell him I'll be in his office." Turning back around, you head out the door and walk through the proclaimed hero's office. It's striking to see how night and day the two offices are. The aesthetics shift from sleek and black to relaxed and colorful.

Even the attitudes of the workers differ; they actually seem like they want (or at least don't mind) to do their job. The atmosphere is palpably different, and you find yourself absorbing the contrasting energies as you navigate through the hero's domain.

As you traverse back to the boss's office, you smoothly enter his main office, somewhat savoring the familiar ambiance as you feel a little bittersweet about being back at the office. You begin to unpack your things and get straight into work.

One hour passes, the minutes ticking away in a rhythmic dance.

Two hours pass, each moment blending into the next, creating a seamless continuum.

Three hours pass; you tiredly watch the passage of time marked by the silent ticking of the clock on the wall. A rather substantial chunk of time has passed since Red Riot mentioned that Dynamight was on his way. And you're mad as hell.

You completed everything you needed to an hour ago and decided to sit and wait just for good measure.

But now, impatience gnaws at you. Huffing, you quickly gather your things and head out of the office. Taking the elevator down to the parking garage, you aimlessly walk towards the chauffeur, the air heavy with anticipation as you slip into the sleek vehicle.

You know you're not exactly allowed to use the chauffeur, but fatigue has settled into your bones, and you simply don't feel like dealing with the hassle of taking a cab back home. As the chauffeur skillfully maneuvers through the city's nocturnal labyrinth, you find solace in the gentle hum of the engine.

Finally dropped off at your apartment, you collapse into the welcoming embrace of your bed.

Another couple of hours have passed since you left work. Glancing at the clock, a sense of worry creeps in as 10 pm emerges. "Must've been a serious conversation," you ponder. Out of habit, you pull out your phone and mindlessly text your boss.

TO: Dynamight (BOSS)

Riot told me where you were.

Next time… just tell me not to come in.

Placing the phone down, you continue watching mind-numbing daytime TV reruns. "I wonder if he thinks I'm some joke," you say aloud. Anger quietly simmers in your stomach as you shift your feet around, attempting to find comfort in the folds of your bed.

Not even five minutes later, Dynamight answers your text.

Picking up your phone, your eyes widen at his text.

FROM: Dynamight (BOSS)

outside

we need to talk.

Oh, this is serious…

Jolting out of your bed, a rush of adrenaline propels you to the window, where you cautiously peek outside. There he is, waiting at your door. Surprisingly, he looks a tad bit nervous, perhaps uneasy?

Shutting your blinds, you slip on your house shoes and stomp towards the door. Opening it with a swift motion, you look at the hero. He meets your gaze, appearing tired and somewhat defeated as you begin to let loose on him.

"You need to be more considerate of people's time and what they're going through! Do you even know what I went through today? Well, I ended up in your buddy's office today, okay—"

"Please, L/n… just let me in," the blonde's voice rasps at you. Blinking, you notice how unfazed he looks as you stop your scolding. Quietly cursing under your breath, you hold the door open for him to come in.

As the blonde enters your place, he takes off his shoes and sits at the dining room table. Your boss's demeanor today is unusual compared to how you've seen him before. He looks almost vulnerable to you.

"You want anything to drink?" you say quietly. The blonde rolls his neck and then looks you in the eyes. "Got beer?" he says. You quietly nod and go into the kitchen to get him a beer.

"Get yourself one too; you're gonna need it," he says, the last part just below a whisper. You hum in agreement and grab the beers. Sliding one to him, he grabs it and cracks it open with vigor.

You watch as your boss quickly gulps down the contents, as you only take a small swig. Placing your drink down you look at him concerned.

"What did you need to talk about?" you say softly.

"Um… listen," you watch as the blonde shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He lets out a deep sigh, placing his hands into his pockets, and his head hangs low.

"So, I talked to my parents today—"

"I know that—"

"I was talkin' to them, you know… how parents are. They get on your ass when they need to, and they were definitely on mine. My mom said some things, and I got upset. I started to blabber a whole bunch of shit for no reason—"

"I'm having a hard time figuring out what the issue is. So you're being held accountable?" you say, confused. You watch as he clenches his fist and closes his eyes, trying his absolute hardest not to explode in anger right then and there.

"As… I began to ramble, I brought you up, and I told my parents that you're my girlfriend… we're engaged." He says defeatedly, a long pause of silence goes by as you stare at your boss, absolutely dumbfounded.

What?

"WHAT!"

Jumping up from your seat, you start to pace around the kitchen in anger. "I can't even look at you right now— are you serious?" you turn towards him, eyes wide, and lips turned upward in anger.

"C'mon, it's not that serious—"

"Not that serious? Are you messing with me?" you say outraged.

"L/n, please just sit down so we can talk this out—"

"Talk this out? No, I don't wanna say anything to you. God, how could you do this? It's like I'm not even a person to you; like I'm just a toy that you continuously beat against a hardwood table over, and over, and over—"

"L/n!" Dynamight's voice roars over yours, and you flinch at the sound. The rhythmic sound of your breaths huffing is the only sound that penetrates through the air.

"Okay, fine. We can talk, but I'm not sitting down," you say sternly, which makes the blonde roll his eyes. You hear him mumble a quiet "whatever," which almost sets you right back into another frenzy.

Fighting the urge to escalate, you take a deep breath and continue to pace, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

"My parents want to meet you tomorrow, is that okay?" he dares to ask. You wanted to say something witty, something that would tick him off, but you started to go into deep thought.

"Give him a taste of how he's treated you, Y/n; the time is now."

Turning to face him, you look at him with no emotion. "Okay, that's fine," you say. This throws your boss off guard, "uh, are you sure? You seemed pretty against it literally three seconds ago—"

"No… I think it's fine. I know we talked about taking things slow, but it's whatever," you say defeatedly. You watch as the blond takes his hands out of his pockets and places a box out and in front of you.

"You'll need this," he says.

Eyes tracing down from his hand and onto the box, your stomach drops to your ass in a heartbeat.

An engagement ring.

"I'm not forcing you to put it on right now, but just have it on before I see you tomorrow," he says. You aimlessly nod, eyes still glued to the ring. You hear your boss stand from his chair with a screech and walk towards you.

"You don't need to memorize my favorite color or whatever the heck—just be present and actually act as if you're interested, please?" he pleads with you. You hum with a silent nod.

"I'll let myself out," the hero mumbles.

After a few moments, you hear the door close and the sound of his car speeding off into the night. The room is left in silence, filled with the weight of unexpected developments and the promise of an imminent meeting with Dynamight's parents.

Sitting back down at the table, you grab the velvet box. Opening it, you can't help but let out a gasp. The ring is absolutely beautiful, looking way too expensive to be just a regular engagement ring. Taking it out of the box, you can't help but marvel at its beauty.

"I always thought later in my life I would be proposed to a little bit differently…" you chuckle to yourself, unable to help feeling a little bittersweet at the moment you're currently experiencing. The unexpected turn of events, coupled with the striking beauty of the ring, creates a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you.

Sighing, you place your head down on the table, feeling the cold wood press against your skin. Closing your eyes, you didn't know what to think or feel—you were just there.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you look so… fancy?"

Currently sitting inside your "fiancé's" car, you're being berated once more for no exact reason. "I just thought that since I'm meeting your parents and all that I would dress nice," you say unbothered as you fix up your makeup in the passenger mirror.

"Plus, I bought this a year ago; m'not letting it collect dust."

You hear the blonde let out a drawn-out sigh, before you knew it, you felt a surprisingly soft hand wrap around your wrist. Looking over, you see him stare at the ring on your finger.

Swallowing your spit, you look over at his hand.

No ring.

"And where's your ring?" you say sternly. "It's right here," he mumbles as he reaches into his armrest. "I was gonna put it on but… I didn't know which finger to put the stupid thing on," he says.

You chuckle at his words as you grab the box from his hand and open it. He chose a pretty nice ring for himself also. Taking the ring out of the holder, you grab his hand and slowly slip the ring on.

"There," you speak softly.

"Thanks," the hero mumbles before quickly snatching his hand away from your grasp and placing them on the steering wheel. Quickly driving off.

Looking at the sights, you see the transitions from the bustling, busy city life to a quiet suburban city. You watch as the hero drives around the town, memorizing every turn and every stop.

Sometimes he would tell you a story about him from childhood whenever he would see a certain park or store. It was nice.

But that "nice" feeling in your body soon turned into anxiety as you watch the car turn down a neighborhood road. The neighborhood is nice, beautiful homes with nicely trimmed grass. This is a place you'd see yourself growing up in if your family actually had the money to.

As the car slows to a stop, you park outside the home of your boss's parents. Swallowing your spit, you nervously play with your ring before looking up at the blonde.

"Hey," he says, and you lift your eyebrows in response.

“Call me Katsuki.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of already starting a first-name basis. "Okay, you can call me Y/n," you say. Katsuki nods at your words, "nice name" he mumbles (he's too bashful to be authentically nice).

"Thanks, you have a nice name too," you say.

"Thanks."

A beat passes before you then watch the blonde hop out of the car and walk over to your side. Opening your door, he holds out his hand for you. Looking at his hand for a moment, you press your lips into a line before grabbing it softly.

Interlacing your fingers with the pro-hero, you didn't know what waves of emotions were going through you at the moment. You felt like a high school girl going on her first date.

You notice once more how soft his hands were. Who knew hands that were known to brutally fight against evil and maintain justice and peace in the city were so...soft.

Taking your other hand and placing it on his arm, the both of you walk side by side to the front door. As Katsuki rings the doorbell, you squeeze his hand.

"You'll be fine."

You silently nod before hearing the door unlock. As the door swings open, you're met with a man with brunette hair and glasses who looks exactly like your fiancé. Thus, none other than his father, of course.

"Oh, hello!" he says pleasantly with a soft smile. Unraveling yourself from Katsuki's grasp, you reach out to shake. "Hi, Mr..." your brain paused for a moment.

"Bakugo, Mr. Bakugo, dear," he says with a chuckle. Shaking his hand, he gives you a firm shake before letting you go. You smile as you revert to resting your hands at your center.

"Or you could call me Dad, or Mr. Dad—"

"Please, old man," Katsuki groans. This earns a quiet chuckle out of you.

"Please come in," he says awkwardly, motioning you to follow. As you step into the house, you can't help but quietly speak as you feel the warm touch of Katsuki's hand ghosting around your waist.

As the both of you settle in, you can't help but look at every corner of the house. The modern home was everything you thought it would be. Sleek design yet a homey color palette; you wish this was your childhood home.

Your eyes grazed over framed photographs capturing moments of joy from the pro-hero's childhood. A part of you still didn't believe you were seeing the things you were seeing today.

As you move through the house, Katsuki's father engages in casual conversation, sharing anecdotes and stories about their family. The initial nervousness begins to subside as you find yourself being drawn into the easygoing charm of the Bakugo family.

The living room, adorned with plush furniture and warm hues, invites you to take a seat. Katsuki, still by your side, maintains a protective presence that brings a sense of comfort.

"Dinner will be ready soon. Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" Mr. Bakugo suggests with a warm smile, leaving you and Katsuki alone for a moment.

The two of you find a spot on the couch, and as you sit together, the air is filled with a mix of anticipation and the gentle hum of family life. Katsuki's hand finds yours again, offering silent reassurance amidst the subtle excitement of the evening.

"He's nice," you mumble softly at Katsuki, which earns a humorous scoff from him. "Yeah, he's too nice, maybe he actually took his meds today," the blonde says. You silently mouth an "oh" before looking around the room some more.

Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of Katsuki's mother in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. She also looks just like him; you watch as her eyes match up with yours. Before you could politely bow or smile, her eyes were off of you.

Looking back down into your hands, Katsuki immediately tells that something is off. "Hey, don't mind the old hag; she's just in her feelings." You breathe in, trying to register your emotions and the "old hag" quip.

"Yeah, but I mean, she has every right to act the way she's acting. If I didn't know my son was getting married—let alone had a girlfriend until it's basically time for them to say their vows—I would feel a type of way as well."

Katsuki rolls his eyes as he attempts to place his hand on your thigh. But you turn away from him with a frown. Before the blonde could say anything else, "Mr. Dad" comes walking through.

"Hey, kids, the food is ready," he says with a smile.

You nod before looking back at Katsuki. As the both of you walk towards the dining table, Katsuki pulls out your chair and helps you sit down. As you settle down, you hear a quiet scoff in the distance. Already gathering that scoff was owned by his mother.

Looking down, you stare at the food placed before you. The aroma wafts through the air, and you can't help but smile. "Wow, this looks amazing! I haven't had a home-cooked meal in so long, thank you."

"No need." Looking up, you notice another figure sitting on the opposite side of the table. "Hello, Mrs. Bakugo," you say with a soft bow.

Nothing in return.

Looking over at Katsuki, you could sharpen a dozen kitchen sets with the look he just gave his own mother. The tension in the room becomes palpable, and you find yourself navigating the delicate balance of emotions while trying to enjoy the anticipated family dinner.

As the family gathers around the table, you notice the strained atmosphere between Katsuki and his mother. The unspoken tension hangs in the air, creating an undercurrent that makes you tread carefully with each bite.

You exchange glances with Katsuki, silently acknowledging the situation of family dynamics. Despite the awkwardness, you decide to break the ice by engaging in conversation with Mr. Bakugo.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" he asks. Looking over at Katsuki stuffing his face with rice, you look back over at his father with a bashful smile.

"We met at work; I'm his secretary," you say with a chuckle. Katsuki's dad lets out a chuckle along with you. You also notice that his mother is chuckling too. As she looks into your eyes with a mischievous smile, her eyes glaze over at her husband.

"You know what they say about secretaries…"

"Which is?" you look over at Katsuki, throwing mental daggers at his mother. She swallows her food and chuckles, "I'm just saying! Clearly, you have a type."

"Keep pushin' me; old dirty hag," Katsuki spits venom with every word that comes out of his mouth. Your eyes widen at the vulgarity of the words he chose. Placing your hand above your mouth in shock.

"Or what? Little bastard—"

"Okay!" Mr. Bakugo yells out.

All eyes snap towards him.

"Mitsuki, do you have any other questions for Y/n?" he says anxiously.

A moment of silence passes before she speaks again.

"Where are you from?" she asks.

"I'm from (hometown)," you respond.

"Education?"

"I'm a college graduate in hero analysis and communications."

"How old are you?"

"27, ma'am…28 in (birth month)."

"How many kids are you willing to have with my son?" she suddenly asks. This makes Katsuki and his father choke on their food, sending you aback, and a warmth grows on your cheeks.

"Oh, what? It's not like they haven't had sex before!" she argues.

"Well—"

"Well, what? You're celibate?" She questions; you look over at Katsuki before quietly nodding. "Oh wow, I guess he's really in it for the long haul." Mitsuki sips her drink before going on another brigade of questions for you.

By the end of dinner, things were…okay? You believe you made a good impression on Mr. Bakugo. His mother, on the other hand, was a whole different case.

Soon, you and Katsuki were in the kitchen washing dishes while the older couple sat on the couch to converse. The clinking of dishes serves as a backdrop to the muffled conversation in the living room. The warmth of the water and the shared task provide a brief respite from the earlier intensity.

As you scrub a plate, Katsuki breaks the silence. "Sorry about that, she can be a real pain in the ass."

You look over at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay, I can handle it. Besides, I'm getting to know your family."

He grumbles in response, his usual tough exterior softening for a moment. The rhythmic sound of washing dishes continues, and you can't help but feel a sense of unity, even in the midst of familial complexities.

"It's not okay; she's never acted like that towards a guest ever, and it's you of all people," he says. You can tell through the tone of his voice that he's genuinely upset. You watch closely as he washes off some scum from a knife with his fingers.

"You didn't deserve that—god, she can be such a bitch—ah, shit!" Katsuki curses as he holds out his finger. He didn't realize, through his fit of anger, that he'd cut his finger.

Your eyes widen at the sight.

"What's going on in there?" You hear Mitsuki yell out.

"K-Katsuki?" You stumble with your words.

"Damn it, sorry," he mumbles.

"I'm fine, there's a first aid kit under the sink."

Quickly grabbing the kit, you come to his aid. Carefully bandaging up his finger. "Katsuki, I promise I've gone through worse. This is only a nib in the bud," you reassure him.

Finishing up the bandage, you place the first aid kit back under the sink. Looking back up at the blonde, you softly smile, placing your hand on his arm before glancing back over.

As you look over, you see Mitsuki staring into your soul, but this time neither of you breaks contact. "Did you guys want to stay for dessert?" Katsuki's father follows up.

The both of you look over at him, and you begin to speak, "Um—"

"Nah, early patrol and an interview tomorrow," Katuski speaks as he sneaks an arm around your waist. "Mm, yeah. That also translates to a lot of paperwork and notes for me," you attempt to make a joke to lighten the air.

This earns a chuckle from the father, "Well, let us lead you out."

As the four of you head towards the door, you watch Katsuki from the corner of your eye get a pat on the back from his father and a thumbs-up, mouthing "I like her" before he slips away from him.

Before leaving, the both of you turn and bow. "It was nice seeing you both for the first time. I hope to come here more often; the food was great."

"Anytime Y/n, the pleasure is ours."

As the both of you turn away hand in hand, you're stopped by a gasp of your wrist. "I'd like to give you a couple of words," says Mitsuki.

"Oh—"

"Whatever you say to her, you can say to me," Katsuki says sternly. His mother rolls her eyes, "Oh, please go to the car; I'm not gonna bite her head off!" She complains.

You give Katsuki an assuring glance before letting him go to the car. Facing his mother, you expect the worst. "Yes?" you say.

She lets out a sigh before she speaks, looking at you with almost a pitiful look. “I don’t know if you’re a good fit for my son yet, but I can tell you care for him. And that’s what matters the most.”

She then places her hand to touch yours, lifts your hand, and observes your ring. "Y'know I was staring at this the whole night? I just can't believe it."

Staring down at the ring, you nod your head in agreement.

"Me either."

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED IT!! THE FIRST HALF OF THIS BOOK IS COMPLETE! ONLY 6 MORE CHAPTERS LEFT!

— lovelyiida

#mha headcanons #lovelyiida #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha insert #mha fanfiction #bakugo x reader

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