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yuujispinkhair · 4 months ago

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ILLICIT AFFAIRS

You show me colors I can't see with anyone else

You are stuck in an unhappy marriage, not brave enough to leave your cheating husband. Until you meet Sukuna.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 10k Warnings: 18+, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, but not explicit, cheating (Reader's husband cheats on her, and later on, she cheats on him with Sukuna). Sukuna is a CEO (or can be read as a Yakuza boss, too). Sukuna + Reader are both in their thirties. The fic title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs", but in this story, the secret affair has a happy ending. This story is super self-indulgent, but I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it, too! Minors don't interact. Divider @./lovwoung

You often ask yourself what went wrong. How did you end up trapped in this unhappy marriage? Maybe you were too young, too inexperienced, too naive when you met your husband. Maybe you were too insecure, convinced no one would ever want you, and so you gratefully settled for the first man who showed interest in dating you.

Your relationship was never like those romances you knew from books or movies, but you assumed that was just how things were in reality. Your mom, your aunt, and everyone else told you how lucky you were to have finally found a man willing to be with you. How lucky to have found someone with a good job and from a good family. They were also the ones who pressured the two of you to get married, and ever since then, things have gone downhill.

Your husband hasn't shown you any love or affection in years. The only time he shows interest in you is when he wants to have sex, but even that is without any real intimacy. He hasn't kissed you in years, and if he did at this point, you would probably be disgusted by it. There is no love in this marriage.

The worst thing is you know he is cheating on you. You already suspected it when he suddenly had to stay at work a lot longer than usual and when he began to hide his phone screen from you. And then one night, you woke up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and that's when you overheard your husband talking on the phone with some other woman calling her angel and baby and telling her how beautiful she was.

Even though you didn't love him anymore, it still made your world tumble down around you.

You want to leave him, but you can't. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. You have always found it very hard to make decisions, and this one is huge. You have no idea where to go or how to get by on your own. All your savings went into buying this apartment, and now what?

And it's not just the financial aspect that worries you. Everyone has always told you that you would never survive on your own. They always kept you small, turning you into someone who is dependent on others. You got told that you are weird, not good enough, and incapable of ever taking control of your life. And at some point over the years, you started to believe that. Your self-confidence is non-existent.

You tell your mom about the cheating, and she tells you to stay with your husband.

"It's just a little fling. At least you are lucky that he doesn't want to divorce you. It would be such a financial disaster, and you know how you are. You don't do well on your own. Just stay with him and find joy in other things. Maybe pick up a new hobby. I could give you Kira's number. She just joined a nice Yoga class!"

You don't go to the Yoga class, but you also don't leave your husband. You try to pretend everything is fine. Try to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you are really just a hysterical, insecure, and overjealous idiot who misinterpreted things.

The months pass, and you catch him flirting on the phone several times. An annual business event is scheduled, which you always accompany him to, but he tells you it got canceled this year. Only to find out from the wife of one of his coworkers that the event took place as usual, but you and your husband simply never showed up. You know why. He didn't want you there. He didn't want to risk his little affair and his wife running into each other.

You've given up on love by now. You hate seeing ads for romance novels or rom-coms. You stop listening to music because most songs are lovesongs. For all you know, romantic love is just a made-up thing that people sing about and write about, but it's all just lies.

Or maybe it does exist in real life. But not for you. Maybe you simply aren't the type of woman who deserves to be loved. Maybe your mom is right, and you should just accept it.

So you stay with your husband, but you are dead inside.

Until you meet Sukuna.

He is everything you ever dreamed about in your secret fantasies that you started to develop to comfort yourself. A dreamed life, but now it's right in front of you, close enough to touch. Sukuna is a real gentleman. An attractive mix of a bad boy and a successful, serious businessman. Smart, confident, and sexy, with a boyish playfulness beneath his professional appearance.

Ironically, you meet him the night you try to save your marriage.

You are already sitting at the table for two you booked for a date in one of the best restaurants in the city. You put on makeup and spend an hour picking a dress in which you feel at least half attractive. And now you sit here, sipping your red wine, waiting for your husband to arrive, to hopefully bond with him again over a delicious dinner and a few hours where you can talk and maybe laugh together.

Only that your husband never shows up. You have already finished your first glass of wine and received several pitiful looks from the waitress when your phone buzzes with a message. It's your husband telling you he can't make it. "Something has come up at work. I don't know when I will be able to leave. Just have dinner without me."

You stare at the message for far too long, not even knowing how to respond. Feeling utterly humiliated, utterly hurt, and abandoned. Worthless. You know he is going to see his girlfriend instead tonight. His girlfriend, who is young and sexy, and can give him what he wants.

And suddenly, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You blink hastily, wiping angrily at your cheeks, trying everything not to ruin your makeup or have a breakdown in the middle of the crowded restaurant. But the waitress chooses that exact moment to walk up to you with an overly bright smile, asking,

"Excuse me, Madam. Would it be alright if someone joins you at your table?"

You look at her, caught off guard, really not wanting a stranger at your table in this horrid moment, but you are too polite to say no, and so you smile weakly back at her, pressing out in a tear-thick voice,

"Of course, I don't mind."

You wipe your eyes again, trying to will the tears away, as a tall man in a fancy-looking black suit and slicked-back pink hair comes into view. He is snapping at the waitress, clearly annoyed, saying something about how rude it is to forget his reservation and that this will have consequences since he is a regular customer, etc.

But he sits down across from you, still fuming as the waitress bows deeply several times, apologizing profusely for the mistake, promising that the man's food and drinks will be free tonight.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and orders a glass of red wine, which the waitress immediately scrambles to get for him.

You gulp hard, trying to regain composure, hoping you don't look as forlorn as you feel. You lift your head to nod at the man across from you, trying to muster up a polite smile because, after all, you have been trained from a young age to always be friendly.

You take him in and draw in a surprised breath. He is gorgeous. The most attractive man you have ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered with masculine but beautiful features. Angular jawline, intelligent maroon eyes, and sensual lips that are lifted in a smug smirk as he nods back at you,

"Excuse this inconvenience. I will make sure whoever is responsible will get fired."

And, of course, you splutter and are quick to try doing damage control, not wanting some poor person to lose their job over this.

"Oh no, please, it's no problem at all!"

The pink-haired man laughs softly, a low, husky sound that makes your pulse flutter nervously.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and muscular build, and the tattoos that line his handsome face. But he is distinguished and elegant, wearing a designer suit and an expensive watch. Clearly, he is a regular guest of a restaurant like this.

He looks like a successful CEO (or a Yakuza boss, your mind provides not helpful at all). He's definitely someone in a powerful position, judging by his whole appearance and the dominant and confident aura he exudes. But he also has pastel pink hair, a boyish grin, and a playful attitude that makes him seem not as scary as you first thought.

His wine arrives from a different waitress, and he thanks her politely, telling her,

"Put everything the lovely lady across from me orders on my card."

The waitress is quick to bow deeply with a polite, "Of course, Mr. Itadori," at the same moment, as your eyes widen, and you quickly argue,

"Oh no, please, I can't..."

But he smirks his charming smirk and lifts a large hand dismissively,

"It's the least I can do for ruining your evening in much-wanted solitude."

Much wanted solitude.

His words hit you to the core, making all the sadness well up in you again. If only it were true. If only you were truly a single, independent woman who came here after a successful day at work to enjoy dinner on her own in voluntarily chosen solitude.

But you are none of that. You are an abandoned and unloved wife with a boring job and no money, sitting here at a table for two because your husband ditched you to fuck his pretty little assistant in his office.

And suddenly, the tears are back in your eyes, making it hard to see. You quickly avert your shameful gaze, your hand grabbing your wine glass so tightly it almost breaks.

Your sight is blurry, but you can still see the shocked look on the man's face across from you. His eyes dart away from you but then back again, obviously not used to the company of a crying stranger. He clears his throat before he leans slightly across the table, lowering his voice to a soft murmur,

"Are you alright?"

You feel embarrassment flood you, feeling so mortified at your behavior. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you! This is so typical of you, ruining this stranger's evening, because you don't have your emotions under control and act like a complete fool. It's something your husband would chide you for or make fun of if he saw it.

"I... I am so sorry! Please just ignore me."

You hate how your voice breaks, and before you can suppress it, a pathetic-sounding sob falls from your lips. You press your hands to your face, sobbing silently into them, trying to hide from the world and from the poor guy who's forced to share this table with you.

But then you feel a tentative touch, a warm hand gently brushing over your arm, and you pull your hands from your face, blinking at your table partner, feeling your lips tremble and your face burning, knowing that you must look so ugly right now with your makeup ruined and tears and snot coating your face.

Another apology is already waiting on your tongue, but he shakes his head, and somehow, it's so authoritative but also gentle that your apology dies on your tongue. Instead, you blink at him, as he cocks his head and watches you thoughtfully, that low voice so smooth and soothing when he says,

"Don't apologize."

You nod, trying to smile gratefully at him, but fail miserably as his kind reaction only causes more tears to fall.

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Not a paper tissue, but an actual handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you reach for it automatically, thanking him. But you freeze the moment your hand wraps around the fabric, realizing it's made out of fine silk.

He raises an eyebrow,

"Please, take it."

"But I... I will just ruin it with my makeup..."

He huffs, a soft smirk lifting his lips,

"I don't care. I'll just buy a new one. Take it. I insist."

"Th.. thank you, sir. That's really sweet of you."

His lips twitch,

"You're welcome. And for you, it's Sukuna, not sir."

You sniffle, pressing his handkerchief against your cheeks as you nod and tell him your name.

His smirk softens to a small smile, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward your empty wine glass.

"Do you want another one of those? Looks like you could use it."

You nod as more tears well up in your eyes, and Sukuna snips his fingers, instantly summoning a waiter to your table as if they are all hovering nearby just waiting for Sukuna to voice a wish.

Five minutes later, you have another red wine to hold on to and sip on, which causes a comforting buzz in your head, and suddenly, it all breaks out of you, and you tell Sukuna everything. You tell him about your failed marriage, about how lonely you feel, how unloved. About your cheating husband. About how pathetic you think you are for not daring to leave him because you have never been on your own before and you have no one who has your back.

You cry and sob and take big gulps of the wine while pouring your heart out to this beautiful stranger sitting across from you. This guy who, despite his intimidating look, is surprisingly gentle with you and who doesn't mind that you stain his silken handkerchief with your mascara and lipstick.

Sukuna actually listens to you. He looks earnestly at you, clenches his jaw when you tell him how your husband treats you, and shakes his head when you say under tears how stupid you think you are.

"No, you aren't. Don't blame yourself. It's him. He is the problem. He is the asshole."

Sukuna is the first one who tells you that you deserve better.

You feel an unexpected relief at finally being able to pour your heart out to someone. And just when you get yourself enough under control again to begin feeling embarrassed at your outburst, Sukuna flashes you a smirk and raises an eyebrow, asking,

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

Which makes you forget the embarrassment and instead stare at him with big eyes and hurriedly splutter,

"Oh my god, no! This is not what I..."

You don't get any further because Sukuna begins to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes sparkle amusedly at you.

"Don't worry. I'm just joking."

You huff a breath of relief, followed by a little laugh. Sukuna's comment managed to pull you out of your little moment of regret, and you feel better again, taking another sip from your wine and even managing to eat a few bites of the meal Sukuna ordered for the two of you, claiming that an empty stomach is never good.

Sukuna is nice to you. It's astounding to you because, with the way he looks with those face tattoos and the slightly dangerous aura surrounding him, you would have never thought a man like him could be so nice. It brings more tears to your eyes, feeling too emotional from all the wine. But you use Sukuna's handkerchief to blot them away.

He leaves with you when you say you have to go home, walks around the table, and pulls out your chair like a real gentleman. He offers you his strong arm when you sway lightly on your heels. He helps you into your coat and accompanies you to the exit.

You stand in front of the restaurant on the busy street, but all you see is Sukuna, who stands so close to you that you can smell his cologne, a sensual, woodsy scent that fits him perfectly, smelling expensive and sexy.

He puts a large hand on your tear-stained cheek, cupping it gently, wiping a few fresh tears away, and you take a step closer to him as if drawn in by a magical force, craving this tender touch, even if it's just a stranger touching your cheek in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Sukuna is so tall and broad, making you feel so safe somehow, and before you can stop yourself, you lean your head against his broad chest, closing your eyes for a moment and sighing longingly. For the first time in so long, you feel as if you can breathe.

You reluctantly take a step back again, tilting your head to smile up at Sukuna, thanking him again for everything he did for you. And he grins at you and leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, while his hand still caresses your cheek,

"You deserve so much better than your asshole of a husband. Don't hesitate to call or text me when you need a break again."

And with that, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. It's such a delicate feeling, so soft and gone again in a split second that you aren't sure if it really happened or if you just imagined it, but it fills you with such warmth that it almost hurts.

Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, and you see a business card dangling from his long fingers. You take it from him with a small, grateful smile.

+++

Several days pass, during which you firmly ignore the business card that's still in your purse.

Waking up the next morning after meeting Sukuna made you feel strange. Guilty somehow. As if you had done something wrong. It's ridiculous, of course. Nothing happened between Sukuna and you. And if someone was supposed to feel guilt, it was your husband. And yet you refused to even look at the business card, feeling like you would be doing something bad if you even so much as entertained the idea of adding Sukuna's number to your contacts.

No, you would never contact Sukuna. You would do as your mom had said. Just accept the circumstances of your marriage and create your own happiness. Maybe you should really find a new hobby. Or maybe you could get a pet? A cat or a dog?

For the next few days, you almost manage to convince yourself that you are fine with your life. You keep yourself busy by researching different cat and dog breeds and starting a new TV show.

But then you walk in on your husband flirting with his affair on the phone again, and you see red. This time, you can't stop yourself from confronting him, from snapping at him and screaming at him under tears to stop it.

It leads to nothing, though. He is so unbothered, so smooth, lying through his teeth, downplaying it, claiming she is just a good friend, making you seem like some nutcase who overreacts at every little thing.

You escape to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring off into space as tears stream down your face, feeling so helpless in your rage and misery. What are you supposed to do when your cheating partner refuses to admit he is actually cheating on you?

You wish you had the courage to leave him. Or better, you wish he would take the decision from you and leave you so you won't be the one everyone blames for ending this seemingly perfect marriage! And so you won't have to be the one who makes a decision that will change your whole life.

You yank open your nightstand, searching for some paper tissues. And that's when you see Sukuna's handkerchief again, peeking out from under a package of chocolate cookies.

You brush tenderly over the soft, silken fabric. A small smile lifts your lips as your fingers brush over the initials embroidered on it in one corner in a fancy gold thread. S.I.. Itadori Sukuna.

You let out a long breath, wiping your tears away with one hand while the other holds the handkerchief. And suddenly, the clouds seem to disappear as you remember the warmth you felt when Sukuna cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away. And suddenly you know what you want to do.

You jump up and walk to your dresser, pull it open hurriedly, and yank out the purse you had with you in that restaurant. You open it, impatiently emptying its contents over your bed, until you see the business card with Sukuna's contact information.

On any other day, you would overthink things and take an hour to even make up your mind about what to write, but in the state you are in right now, everything seems so clear.

You grab your phone, add Sukuna's contact, and open a new text message. Your fingers seem to do the work without you consciously having to think about it as they quickly type a message:

"Hey. It's your surprise table partner from last Friday. Thank you again for being so nice to me and for your handkerchief."

You feel triumphant as you place your phone down on your nightstand. And then it buzzes, and your heart jumps to your throat. There's a reply.

"I'm glad you finally texted me. You are very welcome. How are you feeling?"

"I am ok. What about you?"

You cringe at your poor small-talk skills, but Sukuna is surprisingly easy to talk to. He tells you about his day, about business meetings, and what he will have for dinner.

There's a strange feeling spreading through your chest. A kind of longing. You crave the feeling of being near Sukuna again. How safe you felt when leaning your head against his chest for a few seconds. How seen you felt when he listened patiently to you and reassured you.

You want to see him again. Want that feeling again.

"I want to give you back your handkerchief. Where can we meet?"

You know you sound weird as fuck, but it's the only way you dare ask him to meet you again.

"I don't want that handkerchief back, sweetheart. But we should meet up anyway. I quite enjoyed your company. How about you join me again for dinner sometime this week?"

Oh.

Your heart is racing uncontrollably, and your hand shakes as you stare at Sukuna's message.

This is it. This is where things become dangerous. You know the right thing to do would be to say no. It's what a married woman should do. But your husband is in the living room, probably sexting his little affair, so why should you be a good wife?

And so you text Sukuna back, letting him know that dinner sounds great.

+++

The dinner with Sukuna is nice. Really nice. You catch yourself feeling so much lighter, your lips lifted in genuine laughter, your eyes shining with happiness as you spend your evening with Sukuna. He is a very charming conversationalist. Cocky, but in such a playful way that it makes you giggle and feel your face get hot from all the joy it brings you to playfully joke around with him and let him tease you in such a charming and light-hearted way.

Your meeting is innocent, nothing that could be counted as cheating. Just a man and a woman who enjoy good food and wine together and chat about everything and nothing. The occasional small touches don't count, right? Like when Sukuna's large hand brushes over the back of your much smaller hand that's resting on the table.

Or when he reaches across the table to cup your chin and wipe some cherry sauce off the corner of your lips with his thumb. But just because his gentle touch makes your skin tingle and your pulse quicken doesn't mean there is anything going on between Sukuna and you!

Sukuna refuses to let you pay, saying it's a delight for him to have you keep him company. And you laugh bashfully and wave him off but feel so giddy. Sukuna offers you his arm when you walk out of the restaurant, and you take it happily, marveling at how tall he is and how safe you feel walking at his side, biting your lip when you wrap your hand around his upper arm and feel his big biceps flex under your palm.

You say good night on the street in front of the restaurant, and before you know what you are doing, you wrap your arms around Sukuna for a light hug. You intend to pull away again immediately, just a quick, friendly hug, but you get stopped by Sukuna's strong arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly, hugging you back, and not letting you go yet.

He rests his chin on your head, and you have the enticing scent of his cologne in your nose again. You feel so warm and comfortable with Sukuna's strong arms around you, his tall, muscular body pressing against you, warm and reassuring. It makes you let out a shaky breath, overcome with feelings, because you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

Sukuna's low voice is a velvety rumble when he says,

"I am on the National Museum's VIP list. There will be a pre-opening event for a new exhibition this coming week. Heian era. It sounds interesting. Would you like to accompany me?"

You lift your head, looking curiously at Sukuna,

"What must one do to get added to the National Museum's VIP list?"

An amused smirk lifts Sukuna's lips, making him look so unfairly handsome,

"Oh, nothing much, just make one or two generous donations every year."

He shrugs, and you laugh, beaming up at him in amusement as you nod,

"I would love to accompany you."

"Sweet. It's settled, then. I'll text you the day and time."

You want to walk to the subway, but Sukuna stops you with a warm hand on your arm, saying he will drive you home. For a moment, you freeze, not knowing what to say. It feels wrong somehow to let another man drive you to the apartment you share with your husband. And maybe you should be cautious and keep a distance and not let Sukuna know exactly where you live.

But you shake yourself out of it. All of those things have been hammered into your brain all of your life, making you anxious and scared and never truly living your life. You are already meeting with Sukuna for dinner and will accompany him to a museum next week. The world won't end if he knows your address!

You smile at him and nod, telling him it would be very nice if he drove you. And Sukuna smiles back, a pleased look in his maroon eyes. He gently steers you towards the parking space with a large hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you stroll down the street.

You catch yourself having a more upright posture than usual, your head lifted, your lips adorned with a soft smile. You feel like the passerbies are all looking at you and Sukuna. Maybe thinking the two of you are a couple on a date, and the thought makes your stomach tingle.

Sukuna's car is a black Porsche. You don't even know why you are surprised. He grins lazily as he opens the door for you and helps you slip into the passenger seat, handing you your purse when you sit and carefully closing the door behind you before he walks around the front of the fancy sports car and gets into the driver's seat.

"Nice car," you say, and Sukuna turns to look at you with a teasing twinkle in his eyes,

"Well, I'm not a nice guy, so at least my car should be."

"Oh, I think you are very nice."

The two of you hold eye contact for a long moment, both pairs of eyes filled with amusement before you burst out giggling, and Sukuna joins you with his low laugh.

+++

You spend the next evenings at home, having dinner with your husband, who is busy with his phone most of the time, making the cold, heavy feeling in your stomach even worse.

Your only joy is the anticipation you feel in looking forward to Wednesday afternoon when you will meet Sukuna at the museum.

He is already waiting when you arrive, leaning casually against a pillar next to the entrance, tall and handsome with his perfectly styled pink hair and his Tom Ford suit. A dark red one this time, which makes his eyes look like red wine.

Sukuna is a beautiful man.

For a moment, you feel a nervous flutter in your chest, but it vanishes again when Sukuna grins at you and greets you with his warm, low voice and a large hand on your back, pulling you into a half hug.

He doesn't even have to say his name when the two of you approach the young man who greets the guests and ticks off their names on the guest list.

"Ah, Mr Itadori! Have fun at the exhibition. And thank you so much for your generous support."

Your hand slips naturally around Sukuna's arm as you stroll through the exhibition. It feels nice to be here. It makes you realize how long it's been since you last visited a museum. Or did any kind of activity, really. Your husband never had time for you during the last few years.

You can tell that Sukuna is genuinely interested in the exhibition. He already seems to be an expert on the topic, adding interesting facts to the already detailed info sheets next to each exhibition piece.

It's an equal amount of endearing and sexy how nerdy he seems to be about this. Attractive. You like smart men. You like it when a man is passionate about learning everything about a topic that interests him. And Sukuna is like that.

You hang on his lips, soaking up his knowledge, feeling way too hot when you watch the sparkle in his maroon eyes as he goes into a passionate monologue about political intrigues during the timeline of one of the exhibition pieces.

And he seems to like that you also show genuine interest in the exhibition and in what he has to say about it. He blesses you with a soft smile that makes your stomach flutter. You feel exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest, almost bursting with happiness. A long-forgotten feeling emerging again after so many years.

You thank Sukuna profusely for the fun afternoon, and he grins that charming, boyish grin at you and tells you he is grateful that you kept him such lovely company.

This time, there is no doubt about whether he really kisses your cheek or not. His lips linger on your heated skin for a long moment, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before Sukuna smiles at you and cups your other cheek with his hand, his long fingers caressing it slowly.

"Let's meet again for dinner next week, sweetheart."

+++

You pace your living room restlessly.

Your trip to the museum with Sukuna made you realize something. It made you realize what this giddy feeling is that has been filling you ever since you started to meet up with him. That light-hearted, fluttery, happy feeling you get when you see him or even just when you think of him (which is almost every waking second of your day).

You try to shut down those feelings, telling yourself it's dangerous to let someone make you feel so much again. It makes you too vulnerable. It will only lead to more chaos and more hurt.

Why would a man like Sukuna even be interested in anything serious with me? He can probably have anyone. Either he only sees me as a friend, or I am just a little fling to him. I have to stop this before I get in even deeper!

In the coming week, you cancel your dinner with Sukuna by sending him a short text telling him you have a cold. He sends you a get well soon message and asks if you need anything, which you deny, even while you sob silently because Sukuna is so caring, and all you want to do is run into his strong arms and forget about your joyless life.

But you stay strong and put your phone away, forbidding yourself from sending more messages to Sukuna.

Your husband makes a rare attempt to talk to you, and you already know what he wants. After tiptoeing around you for several hours, he asks you for sex. You join him in the dark bedroom, feeling nothing as you slip out of your clothes and climb into bed with him.

You have learned to close your eyes during sex and let your mind wander, imagining all kinds of fictional scenarios to help you feel anything at all. But this time, you don't think of a fictional love interest out of a romance novel or an actor you find attractive. This time, you think of Sukuna.

You feel dirty afterward as you stand under the shower and scrub at your skin. Dirty for thinking of Sukuna while you slept with your husband. But what makes you feel even dirtier is that you still let your cheating husband touch you even though Sukuna is so nice to you. It feels as if you are cheating on both of them.

You cry so much that you feel like you have no tears left.

+++

Even though you haven't met or talked to Sukuna in over a week, he is still constantly on your mind. You are haunted by images of him. That beautiful tattooed face. That sexy low voice and the playful smirk. That tall and muscular body that makes you feel so tiny in comparison and so safe when you are standing in front of him or leaning against him.

You sigh. One would assume that acknowledging that you are developing romantic feelings for Sukuna would make things easier for you. Clearer. But the thing is, even though you know what your heart wants, you are still too scared to end things with your husband. There are too many insecurities. Too many risks and you feel so useless and weak, just like your parents always told you you are.

You feel frozen, unable to make a move. There is this wonderful man who treats you as if you are special and shows you how a man is supposed to make you feel, and yet you lack the courage to get out of your loveless marriage.

You have always been an overthinker, always scared to trust your instincts. Brought up to always be sensible and make decisions with your head and not your heart. So how could you just leave the security of this marriage? Especially when you are trying to convince yourself that Sukuna would never want a relationship anyway.

No, you can't let yourself believe that you could have a future with Sukuna. This is just a stupid dream born out of your naivety, which your parents always warned you about.

And how could you even go about ending things with your husband? Sit him down and tell him it's over? But what then? What do you do when he just refuses to accept it?

Or should you just pack your bag and leave while he is at work, letting him return to an empty apartment and a goodbye letter on the kitchen table? But where would you go? To a hotel? You have no money. To your parents? You would feel so ashamed, and you fear their judgment. To a friend? You don't really have any friends anymore who you are close enough with to ask this of.

You sigh. None of it seems achievable. Not for you. You are too chicken to do any of it.

Your husband informs you that he will be gone for two days for a business trip, and you let out a breath of relief, happy about the freedom you feel when he is away and you have the apartment to yourself.

You open a bottle of wine, listen to your favorite playlist, and dance around the kitchen, almost able to convince yourself that things will be ok and you can just live a life feeling detached from the hurt your marriage causes you.

And then your iPad dies. You groan, quickly walking to the spare room you use as an office to grab your husband's laptop, only to get greeted by his e-mail inbox, where you see a booking confirmation for a romantic couple getaway for the next two days.

You stare at it wide-eyed. And then you sit down in a daze and go through the received and sent e-mails, only discovering more outrageous things. The escort girls your husband booked over the last year, the flowers he ordered for other women, while you never got any flowers from him in all your years married to him. The romantic getaways he booked anytime he claimed to go on business trips.

You can't even cry about it anymore. The sadness is replaced by cold rage. And by a strange feeling of resignation. You know you could show all of this to your mom and finally make her believe what you told her all this time. Finally, presenting her and everyone else with proof of how badly your husband treats you.

But even as you snap pictures of the e-mails, you realize you can't bring yourself to do it. And the infuriating thing about it is that it's not even because it causes you hurt, but because you still want to protect your husband. If you show your mom this, she will confront him and make a huge scene. And you don't want that to happen. Even after everything he did, you still are too much of a good girl to let him face the rage of your mom.

That's why you close the laptop again without doing anything. You make sure to put it back to where you found it.

But a different kind of conviction has settled over you. If your asshole of a husband can go on romantic getaways and sex meetings, you can allow yourself some fun, too, can't you?

It's not even that you plan to have sex when you text Sukuna. You just want to meet him for dinner or another trip to the museum. You just want to talk to him, and laugh with him and soak up the light feeling he gives you.

He calls you instead of texting back. Your heart races when you take the call, and Sukuna's velvety low voice fills your ear,

"I just came home from a big grocery haul. So how about instead of meeting at a restaurant, you come to my apartment, and I cook for you?"

You agree instantly.

+++

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna lives in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of the city. The luxurious apartment complex makes you feel nervous and a bit out of place. But that uneasiness slips from you the moment Sukuna opens his door and greets you with that sexy, teasing smirk and a playful little comment.

It's the first time you see Sukuna dressed casually. And it undeniably does something to you to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a rather snug-fitting white t-shirt that clings to his buff pecs and gives you a nice view of his muscular arms and more of his tattoos. You aren't sure what is more mouth-watering, the food that is simmering in one of the pots on Sukuna's stove or his big biceps that flex deliciously with every move.

Sukuna lifts you onto the kitchen counter, easily picking you up and setting you down as if you weigh nothing. A fact that makes you all flustered and sends your pulse racing, making you gratefully grab the wine glass Sukuna is offering you, so you can hide your face behind it and let the alcohol calm your nerves.

No man has ever cooked for you before, and watching Sukuna do it is one of the most attractive things you have ever witnessed. He is so sexy. Passionate and skilled, and still always taking time to playfully flirt with you or ask you to try one of his dishes, feeding you food from a spoon or from his fingers.

There is a special kind of electricity between you tonight. An almost touchable tension that makes your skin tingle anytime Sukuna brushes up against you.

His voice is husky when he tells you what ingredients he uses to marinate the roasted vegetables. And you can't help but let your tongue flick over his fingers when he pushes a slice of roasted zucchini against your lips.

Sukuna groans softly. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look up at his tattooed face. You are met by a hungry glint in those beautiful maroon eyes that remind you of the wine Sukuna poured for you.

You are caught in Sukuna's intense gaze, unable to look away. Everything else seems to fade away.

And the next thing you know is that Sukuna is kissing you. Or maybe you were the one who pressed her lips against his first. You don't know. All you know is that you are kissing right here in Sukuna's kitchen while you sit on the kitchen counter, and he is standing between your legs. His large hands are cupping your cheeks and tilting your head back, and your hands are twisting in the front of his soft white t-shirt, pulling him closer to you as you sigh needily into his mouth.

Sukuna kisses you like you have never been kissed before. Passionate, fiery. Deep and sensual, making your head spin and your pulse flutter under Sukuna's hands.

You can't get enough of him and wrap your arms and legs around him as if you are scared he will vanish into thin air if you let go of him. You kiss him with a hunger unknown to you until now. Like a starving person being presented with a life-saving meal.

Sukuna's large hands trail down your sides, fingertips grazing over the sides of your breasts, eliciting a needy little whine from you, and further down until they reach your thighs. You are drunk on his kiss, drunk on him, melting under every little touch.

And Sukuna hums in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss even more. His large hands slip under you, cupping your ass, kneading it while he makes you moan around his tongue.

You have always been shy, but there is something about Sukuna and the way he makes you feel that makes you slip a hand under his t-shirt, feeling him up, greedily caressing his flexing abs, feeling dizzy at how good his firm muscles feel under your fingertips.

You both can't seem to stop kissing, both tumbling down further and further into this heated desire. You are faintly aware of Sukuna mumbling against your lips that the sauce needs to simmer for another hour anyway, and then he picks you up and lifts you easily off the kitchen counter while his lips claim yours again.

Sukuna carries you to his bedroom while never breaking the kiss, and you suck on his bottom lip and run your greedy hands through his soft pink hair and down his bulging biceps, wanting him so much that you think you will die if you don't get all of him tonight.

You sleep with Sukuna on his fancy bed, and it's nothing like it was with your husband. It's like you finally learn how sex is supposed to feel with a man who truly wants you.

Sukuna makes you feel wanted and desired, a feeling that is so new to you after all these years caught in a loveless marriage where your husband made you feel undesirable, unattractive, and like you would never be able to find anyone else with how your body looks and how lousy you are in bed.

But with Sukuna, it is completely different. You feel sexy here in his bed with the way he looks at you when he undresses you. And with the way he moans sweet praise in your ear before his lips and hands worship your body.

Sukuna is a real man. Experienced and confident, but so loving and patient with you when you get shy and tell him that you aren't very experienced and that your husband was disappointed in your skills in the bedroom.

At one point, you tense up, thinking Sukuna will get angry like your husband when you are clumsy during sex. But the opposite is the case. Sukuna is calm and gentle, talking to you in that sexy low voice, all soothing and sexy, telling you that it's ok and that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed.

He kisses you until your head spins and then asks you why you got so tense, asks you what you need. And you almost break out in tears, hugging him tightly, hiding your face in his defined pecs, inhaling his scent, and feeling so loved and so safe in his strong arms like never before.

"I just... I have only been with my husband, and he told me I am not good in bed. He always got mad at me when I didn't know how something worked. I am sorry if I am not what you are used to."

And you feel Sukuna's arms tightening around you, feel him tense up. But he isn't angry with you, only with your husband.

"That man is such a fool. Look at me, darling."

You lift your head off his chest and look at his tattooed face when he looks at you all earnestly,

"You are a beautiful woman, sexy and desirable, and I want to fuck you so good you forget your own name. Because that's what you deserve. And you don't have to be experienced or fuck like a pornstar. You are perfect the way you are, and you drive me crazy. And if you don't know how something works and you want to learn it, then I will teach you, and I promise I will be patient and gentle."

You nod wildly, feeling too emotional to speak, and instead press your body against Sukuna's and capture his lips in another needy kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips when he wraps his large hands around your waist and takes control.

Everything is so easy after that. No words are needed. Just hands and lips exploring each other's skin in heated caresses and bodies entangled in feverish passion. You let yourself fall, give yourself fully into Sukuna's loving hands. Let him take care of you like no one has ever done before.

He fucks you so good you cry.

All the years of feeling undesirable and not enough slip off you now that you are in Sukuna's bed under his gorgeous, tall, and heavy body, your nails leaving scratches on his broad back, hot tears of bliss streaming down your cheeks, and his name falling sweetly from your lips over and over again like a prayer.

It's like you are finally alive, like you are a flower that finally blooms after all these years.

+++

That first night in Sukuna's bed changed you profoundly.

You catch yourself smiling all day. There's a new bounce in your steps. You feel so much lighter. Your stomach is filled with butterflies as if you are a teenager again who has her first crush. Your chest feels so warm. You're filled with new hope. Maybe there is more to life and love than you thought, after all.

You feel like, for the first time, someone has really seen you. You weren't aware that sex like this existed in real life. That a man could make you fall apart like that. Sukuna fucked you in a way that was life-changing, making you feel like you gave him not just your body but also your soul.

And as passionate and nasty as the sex with Sukuna was, he made you feel respected the whole time. Adored. That is what makes you lose your mind anytime you think of it. You have been with your husband for so long, and yet even in the beginning, when the feelings were still fresh, he never made you feel adored or loved in bed. You didn't even know it until now, but he only ever made you feel used.

When your husband asks you for sex, you turn him down his time, telling him you aren't in the mood, and you don't even feel guilty for it.

You keep running back into Sukuna's strong arms over and over again. Into his bed, under his heavy body, where you feel loved and wanted. It's like he opened your eyes, and now you can see all those new colors that you only seem to be able to see with him.

+++

Your clandestine meetings continue for weeks. It surprises you to see winter turn into spring, and yet Sukuna is still texting you, inviting you to more dinner dates and to more intimate meetings in his bedroom. You always assumed he would end your little affair before things became too serious.

But somehow, he is still in your life, reserving his Wednesday evenings for you, buying you roses, and taking you to the best restaurants in the city.

One night, you sit up in his bed on the ruffled silk sheets and bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over Sukuna's naked body. His tattooed skin, his buff muscles, his beautiful silhouette. And you blurt out,

"Why do you keep seeing me?"

It's what you have been asking yourself from the start. What does Sukuna see in you? You are mediocre in every way. Average looks, no real talents, and no impressive career. A wife who got neglected by her husband because she wasn't good enough in his eyes. A woman in her thirties, who was replaced by a younger, more attractive version.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is gorgeous, powerful and rich, and his age only makes him more attractive. He could have anyone.

Sukuna hums softly and turns onto his side, lifting his head to watch you with curious maroon eyes.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You avert your gaze, sighing, bringing up your hands in a helpless little gesture,

"I... I mean, you are you, and I am me. And I just don't understand what you see in me."

Now, the noise Sukuna makes sounds a bit like a growl. You feel stupid for saying anything, already about to scramble out of his bed and flee before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. But you don't make it out of bed. Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you and stop you. He pulls you back into his arms and against his solid, broad chest.

"Don't belittle yourself like that. I keep asking to see you because I want to. Because I like spending time with you. You are so sweet. You make me feel so warm when I have always felt so cold."

His words hit you like a truck. You blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against Sukuna's chest.

"R... really?"

He huffs softly, letting out a low chuckle as his large hand pets your hair,

"Yes, really. I used to only have one-night stands or casual flings. Just sex and nothing more. I used to think that was all I needed. But you showed me something different. Hell, I've never spent so much time with a woman before I slept with her for the first time. And I enjoyed every second of it! I like spending time with you to talk and laugh with you and just have this companionship. You make me feel like maybe I am not that cold-hearted asshole I always thought I was."

You gulp hard, tears filling your eyes. But this time, happy ones. You sniffle against Sukuna's naked chest and press a tender kiss to his tattooed skin.

"You are so sweet, Sukuna."

He laughs softly, and you can feel it against your cheek, a low rumble, where your face is resting on his chest,

"You are the first one who told me I am sweet. Are you sure?"

Now, you laugh softly, too. The insecurity you felt a moment ago forgotten,

"Yes, 100% sure. No one has ever treated me as sweet as you."

"It's what you deserve. You are so sweet that I want to be sweet for you, too. And..."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around your hips, and he flips you over. He rolls on top of you, covering you whole with his tall, broad body. His lips find your neck, trailing little kisses over it, his low voice a seductive murmur in your ear,

"You're not just sweet, but also beautiful and sexy, and you make me laugh, and I want to take you places and cook for you and also want to keep you on my cock all night and feel you squeeze around me and hear you cry my name."

Sukuna grinds his hips against you, pushing you into the mattress, taking you with one powerful, deep thrust for the second time tonight. You gasp and cling to his broad shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips, welcoming him, craving him, needing him.

He takes it slow. Slow, deep thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his low voice moaning sweet nothings in between deep, sensual kisses.

It's then that you realize that Sukuna is doing what no one else ever did to you. Sukuna is making love to you.

And you cry hot tears, drowning in his love and his body and everything he gives you. Your nails leave scratches on his broad back, your heels dig into his firm ass, as you throw your head back and cry out his name in the sweetest ecstasy.

He holds you afterward, lies behind you, and wraps his tall, strong body around you. He hugs you with his strong arms and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing kisses onto your skin, not letting go of you, taking care of you, cuddling you. Something you also never had before. A man who is willingly holding you like that for hours after he came in you.

You sigh happily, still in a daze. The occasional tear still runs down your cheek as you snuggle against Sukuna's muscular body, and your hands caress his tattooed forearms tenderly. You never want to leave his arms again. You want to stay right here.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna's low voice murmurs against your skin again,

"I mean it, darling. I like having you in my life. So much that I want you in it all the time."

One of his large hands caresses your belly, so tender, so loving, sending butterflies fluttering in it like crazy. And Sukuna breathes in your ear,

"Be mine."

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around in Sukuna's arms, cupping his face with your hands as you kiss him, long and sweet, and in between kisses, you murmur against his lips,

"I am already yours."

You know it is the truth. Even though you are still married to another man, even though you are still living with your husband, you are Sukuna's woman now. You suspect you have been Sukuna's woman for several months already, long before you allowed yourself to admit it out loud.

+++

Two hours later, you are buttoning up your coat, about to leave Sukuna's apartment and the sweet bliss of his arms and return to your cold, loveless marriage, and your lonely apartment, when Sukuna stops in front of you. He reaches out, wordlessly helping you with the buttons, dominant in such a caring way, and somehow, that small loving gesture makes your lips tremble as you are overcome by emotions.

He is so good to you. Such a giant of a man, so tall and broad and powerful. And yet, he treats you so gently. Large hands buttoning up your coat for you. The hands that also cook Michelin-star-worthy meals for you, or wash your hair in his luxurious bathtub. The hands that make you see stars when they finger you oh so good. The hands that caress your cheek tenderly and brush your tears away with so much care. Hands that give to you over and over again. A hundred little acts of service that this powerful man gives to you.

"Sukuna, I..."

You trail off, not able to put into words what you want to say to him. How much he means to you. How much you want him. How he made you believe in love again. How much you crave to leave your old life behind and start over new with Sukuna even though you are so scared of change.

Before you can say any of it, Sukuna grabs your wrists, takes them firmly but gently into his larger hands, and looks at you intensely.

"Leave that asshole. He doesn't deserve you, princess. If a man can't see what he has in you, then he is trash. Don't be scared. I can take much better care of you than him. I'll fuck you good and make you only cry happy tears. I will appreciate you like you deserve. I will love you like you deserve. I will ensure you always have everything you need. I have money, and I can protect you. Tell me, darling, who would you feel safer with waking through the city in the middle of the night? That joke of a man or me?"

Of course, you know the answer.

"I love you, Sukuna."

"I love you, too."

His strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug, and you nuzzle your face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. And finally, here in the safety of Sukuna's embrace, you say those words you have been too scared to say until now,

"I will leave him. I want to be with you. Only with you, Kuna."

You can hear the smile in Sukuna's voice when he replies,

"I'll help you, sweetheart. I have one of the best lawyers in the whole country. I'll call him tomorrow to prepare the divorce papers. I'll take care of everything for you."

Sukuna cups the back of your head and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, reassuringly. He looks at you with that boyish grin you fell in love with and adds in a playful and husky voice,

"And once all of this is dealt with, I will make you my wife."

He takes your left hand into his, turning it around, inspecting the wedding ring you are still wearing, scrunching his nose at it,

"And I'll give you a much prettier ring."

+++

You let the door fall softly shut behind you one last time as you walk out of the apartment you had been sharing with your husband for over a decade. A smile lifts your lips. You are glad to close this chapter of your life.

You know that a braver woman would have left her husband sooner, would have moved out, or kicked him out the moment she found out he was cheating on her. Maybe even sooner, when she realized she was unhappy in that marriage. But you aren't brave. You have always been full of self-doubts and fears. Too ashamed to crawl back to your parents and admit that you hadn't been strong enough to endure your marriage. Too scared that you would never recover from the financial loss of the divorce. Too insecure to believe you could ever make it on your own.

But now you have Sukuna. And the fall doesn't seem so high anymore. You know Sukuna will catch you in his strong arms. He won't let you crash to the ground.

In the end, you think it doesn't matter how you got out of that unhappy marriage and into this loving relationship. All that matters is that you got a second chance to learn how love is supposed to be.

And it still takes bravery to leave your husband and walk into Sukuna's arms. To close the door of your marriage and open the one that leads to the man who came into your life as an illicit affair but has become your one and only.

OH SUKUNA, I NEED YOU 😭😭💗💗 He really took one look at Reader having her breakdown in that restaurant and was like, "I will steal that woman from that loser and give her what she deserves." Thank you, Kuna baby ;)

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing! This story became much longer than I thought, but the words wouldn't stop flowing out of me because this story made me so happy. I hope it could give some of you the same feeling.

I often see posts/articles that victim-blame the women who don't have the courage to leave an unhappy marriage, so I wanted to write something where Reader isn't a strong, independent woman but someone who needs a little encouragement and lots of love from a man like Kuna before she dares make the decision to leave her husband. She deserves all the happiness!

I hope you enjoyed the story and maybe fell a little in love with this version of Sukuna, too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #tw cheating

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differenteagletragedy · 3 months ago

Text

Simon x SingleMomReader, Part Four! Thank you for reading and commenting and being so nice, I love it here <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Weeks went by, and little by little, piece by piece, Simon begins learning you. Your last name, the one you share with Charlie and Emma, your birthday, your favorite food.

Bigger things, too -- how Charlie was a surprise in a not-so-great relationship with a man who'd left and come back, sworn up and down that he'd changed just long enough for another surprise to come in Emma, and who'd left again soon after.

He doesn't just hope for random run-ins with you at the park now, either. He has your number, and you have his. Sometimes you invite him over for dinner, sometimes Charlie grabs the phone and begs him to come play, but more and more, he's finding himself at your house.

One day, Simon talks to Charlie at the dinner table while you're giving the baby a bath, and the scene is so domestic it almost hurts, the way some bit of sweetness can cause a toothache if it hits just right. You and he haven't talked more about his feelings for you or whether you share them, but that's fine by him. You trust him now, enough to let him tend to your son or hold your daughter, and that means everything to him.

"You wanna hear a joke?" he asks Charlie, who nods, smiling and ready, so he says, "What do you call a teddy bear who's going bald?"

"I don't know, what?"

"Fred Bear."

Charlie looks at him blankly, big eyes confused. "The bear's name is Fred?"

"No, sounds like threadbare. Fred Bear, threadbare."

"... His name is Thread?"

Simon chuckles, but before he can say anything else, you come out from the hallway, holding baby Emma.

"Is Simon trying to tell more jokes?" you ask Charlie.

"Yeah, but it wasn't funny."

"Aww, they never are, are they, baby?"

You grin playfully at Simon, and even after all the hours he's spent with you and your family, it's like the first time all over again. Except better now -- it's better every time. Because now, he feels like he's actually earning your smiles. Almost like he's worth all the warmth and kindness you've shown him, just by letting him be with you like this.

Next is the bedtime routine, which he's familiar with at this point. Emma, who's been so close to sleeping through the night, you've told him, gets one more feeding and plenty of snuggles before getting placed in the bassinet by your bed, while Charlie gets an equal amount of snuggles, as long as he'll sit still for them, and a bedtime story after he's all tucked in.

Simon helps out where he can, or when he's confident enough in whatever placed he's carved out in your family to offer, but often he stays back, cleaning up after dinner or straightening up the living room.

He's in the kitchen now, working through the dishes, when you come in, kid-free and trusty baby monitor in your hand. By the look on your face, he knows what you're about to say, and he tries to nip it in the bud.

"Don't need the 'you don't have to do this' speech tonight, love, I've heard it enough I can recite it by heart now."

"But you don't," you tell him, leaning against the counter by the sink, close enough that he can feel your warmth when he puts a clean dish in the drainer. "You know you can just come and hang out, you don't have to do my cleaning for me."

He smiles, glancing up at you, and says, "You want to say my part now or should I?"

You roll your eyes, taking a soapy dish from him so you can rinse it yourself, and pitch your voice as low as it can go, mocking him as you say, "'Know I don't have to, I want to, I’m a very large, very tough man and a sink full of dirty dishes and a bin full of dirty nappies is no match for me.’”

"That's what I sound like, is it?"

You laugh, bumping his hip with yours, and continue with the silly voice.

"'My name is Simon, I tell awful jokes and am very mysterious, but if you need a nap and have a four-year-old who won't slow down for two seconds, I'm your guy.'"

It's all very silly, but very cute, and he can't keep the smile off his face. You keep opening up to him more and more, and every new thing he sees from you, even dumb little moments of levity like this, make him fall even harder. It's such a stark contrast to the woman he met that first day, the one who trusted him only because she had to and lied about having a husband so he might think twice about hurting her.

Even then, he would have died before hurting you, but now?

"I am, you know," he says quietly, handing you another dish.

"You are what?"

"Your guy."

To him, it's just a fact. Of course he's yours. But you look at him with widening eyes, not all that different than the look Charlie gives him when he fixes the persistently leaky faucet or carries all the groceries home so you can carry the baby and hold the boy's hand -- like he's doing something magical when he's just doing something that he knows should be done. It's too much, to be held in such high regard. To feel this important.

With careful hands, still warm and damp from the water from the sink, he grips your waist. When you don't push him away, he gently lifts you to sit on the counter in front of him, closer to eye level. And when, miraculously, you still seem good with what's happening, he leans in.

Simon wants to go fast, because he knows how much he needs this -- how much he needs you, just like this, sleepy after a full day and happy with a full life and right there in his arms -- but he doesn't. He moves in slowly, giving you ample time to stop him, but you don't. Instead, you lift your hands to his shoulders and pull him in to close the distance between you.

It's a soft kiss, but one full of the wanting he's been feeling for months now, and as you move your lips against his, he can feel a bit of your wanting too. It's enough to pull a low grunt from his throat, one that spills from his mouth and into yours as you part your lips to deepen the kiss.

He'd always known that if he ever got the chance to kiss you, it would be good -- he could never see a way that it wouldn't be. But actually doing it, tasting you in more than just his dreams, was so much more than he ever imagined. He loses himself in it, just a bit, his hands only just slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel your smooth skin.

When he feels your fingers grasping at his shoulders, an adorable, almost anxious little attempt at pulling him closer, he scoots you to the edge of the counter so that his chest is flush against yours. The kiss turns hungrier, deeper.

Then the baby cries.

It's a sharp sound through the monitor paired with the muffled sound from the down the hall, and you pull away, breathless and flushed.

"Sorry," you say softly, giving his shoulders one more squeeze before hopping off the counter. "I, um ... just stay, ok? I'll be right back."

He lets out a breath as he watches you hurry down the hall to your bedroom where baby Emma is wailing, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Through the baby monitor, he hears you softly soothing your daughter. He can't make out every word, but the love and care in your tone is clear. He sees the goodness in you every time he's with you, a softness unlike anything he's never known, and it's intoxicating. It's dizzying, someone like you letting someone like him get so close. It makes him feel like he's falling and flying all at once, like he wants to claw at his own skin just to get his hands on the part of you that buzzes through him. It's too much to keep inside him, as big and broad as he is. Too much to bear, all this longing.

All this love.

Simon hears a lullaby through the baby monitor, and sharp cries that turn into little whines before things go silent. A moment later, he hears your feet padding softly down the hall, then there you are in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on your waist and a question in your eyes.

His answer, of course, is "yes." An unequivocal, unrelenting yes, to any question, to anything you want or will ever want from him.

PART FIVE - PART SIX - PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT - PART NINE

#call of duty #call of duty ghost #call of duty simon riley #cod ghost #cod simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x reader #daddy simon

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barcapix · 6 months ago

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With the current scandal with Magui and Lando can you write where Magui is just a fake for him online, but he’s actually dating reader ?! Like he lets Magui thrive off attention just so he can keep dating reader and protect her from backlash plzzzz and ending where he hard launches their relationship I am sorry if it’s bad English

✮ Published to Private Eyes - Lando Norris

lando norris x fem!reader

sy: after some consideration, some encouragement, lando finally decides to make your relationship public; what better day to do it on new year’s eve.

a/n: this drama is mentally DRAINING (i also had to cram write this in an hour so if it’s not the best im sorry) and lastly happy new years to you all💞

warnings: not exactly time accurate! and there’s a huge time jump because i didn’t wanna drag it on and bore u guys. otherwise, no warnings.

masterlist

the air was fresh, albeit a little oppressive, in dubai for yours and your boyfriends short new years getaway.

you stumble into hilton hotel, bags on every shoulder and wrist, dropping them eagerly to the rooms floor.

lando, the perfect boyfriend he was, took up the offer to carry your bags up to the room but by the grimace on his face, he seemed to regret it.

“thank god,” he flopped onto the bed. “at last.”

you do the same, kicking up your feet onto the bed and laying down next to him. you draw delicate lines onto his back and weave your fingers through his hair.

lando hums in pleasure, slightly muffled by the pillows. he then rolled onto his side to face you, his smile boyish as ever.

“you know, i think my arms have permanently given up,” he teased, stretching exaggeratedly.

you laughed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “serves you right from insisting in carrying all the bags. i told you i could help.”

“yeah, well,” he smacked his lips together, “what kind of boyfriend would i be then, hm?”

“clearly not any stronger. maybe you just don’t have such strong muscles as you say.” you chuckle, tracing innocent circles over his biceps.

“shut up.” he stifled a laugh.

you propped up on your elbow, leaning closer as you ghosted over his lips. lando pulled you closer from your lower back, your lips touching briefly before your phone pinged.

you turned your head away, although you didn’t move. you search aimlessly on the bed for your phone, finally grasping onto it.

“oh come on..” lando groaned, planting sloppy kisses on the side of your face. “you can check those later love, just kiss me.”

you ignored him, the notification shining brightly across your screen.

your heart sank slightly as you read it, the reality of your relationship’s secrecy creeping back in. it was such a stark contrast to moments like these, where everything felt perfect, simple, and yours.

:‘magui_corceiro added to her story.’

the story was a balcony picture of her in dubai, adding fuel to the pr stunt her and lando agreed to.

lando craned his neck up, as you shown him her recent story. he sighed, letting his head fall back onto the bed. “i don’t even know why i agreed to it in the first place.”

you did, though. after his last breakup with luisa, speculation stated that the hatred tore them two apart, and lando didn’t want the same with you.

it was a couple months into dating when he’d explained it to you, after the media and press were pressuring further into his private life. it was all about keeping you away from the spotlight—the drama, the journalists and tabloid rumours.

thankfully, he offered the faux girlfriend part to magui, a woman who you nor lando particularly adored.

she wanted fame, he wanted coverage.

but still, it didn’t make it any easier, knowing that the world theorised lando was with somebody else.

“she really can’t help herself huh? not even an hour within landing here.” you murmured, lying back beside him.

“she lives for the attention,” he said, voice tinted with frustration. “but god, i hate that it means people don’t know the truth.”

he turned his head to look at you, his eyes tracing your features in the dim hotel light. your eyes reflected the churning of your stomach, and he knew how much you were affected by it.

“i hate that it hurts you,” he admitted softly, almost too quietly. “i see it, even when you don’t say anything. and it kills me.”

he curled his fingers around yours absentmindedly. “i hate that i can’t post you. brag about you.”

“it’s for the right reasons though lan,” you sighed dismally. “it’s saves both you and me trouble.”

“i know. i just wish i could show you off like the others do, no? it kinda gets me jealous.”

you smiled softly, even as a pang of melancholy hit your chest. “besides that, you do enough bragging in private. that’s all that matters to me.”

lando turned to face you again, his expression softening. “your giving me more reasons to scrap this whole privacy thing y’know. your way to good to me, seriously.”

“well, someone has to be.” you gave him a nudge and he chuckled; rolling over to pin you beneath him. his breath was sickly warm against your skin, but it was somewhat soothingly comfortable.

“now you can make it up to me from earlier,” he rasped, taking his thumb across your cheek. you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“i guess you deserve a little something.”

…

new year’s eve night arrives, and you and lando scramble up countless flights of stairs to reach the rooftop.

the pair of you and a few friends decided to host a monumental countdown celebration for tonight, something that’s become an annual thing—only for the five of you.

“jesus christ, how many stairs are there?!” lando stops halfway and pants. he clutched onto his side and leant against the railing.

you, also breathless, pause for a moment. “it’s a good thing your not a footballer—could you imagine?”

“uh-oh, norris down and collapsed at minute 4’.” you mimic and swallow down an eruption of giggles. lando rolled his eyes, slowly climbing the remaining stairs.

“your nasty. maybe you don’t deserve my new years special kiss tonight.” he says childishly.

“special? oh baby, who said i wanted one?”

lando crossed his arms, putting on a somewhat frightful pout. “fine! i hope you know ill hold you to that.”

“i do know, now come on! we’ll miss ed’s pre celebration!” you encourage, as that gets you both sprinting to the top.

you reach the end of the seemingly infinite staircases, pushing the door to reveal a hoard of people gathering at the rooftop.

the night was sombre, the sky painted jet black and matte. there were barely any sightings of stars, just the glow from a nearby firewood lightening up the space.

“didn’t you say it was just gonna be.. the five of us?” you whisper up to him. you scan around again at the swarms of people huddled in groups, and it was definitely more than just five.

“yeah i thought it was,” lando muttered back, guiding you through the crowd. “im guessing ed got drunk and mistakenly invited the whole building.”

he leads you to a clearing in the corner, with tom, ed and alissa all perched round a small table with drinks in their hold.

lando exclaims a deafening, “hey guys!” whilst trying to outplay the thunderous music from the speaker.

“oh hey you!” alisa greets and pulls you into a tight embrace. “gosh ive missed you so much! i have so much to tell you.”

she didn’t even give you time to part your lips, leading you away to chat in a more private space.

tom and ed shake their heads, unbelieving that they didn’t even get to approach hello’s to you.

“you alright man?” one of them asked as lando succinctly nodded back.

lando took a seat on the edge of a lounge chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his phone resting in his hands. ed and tom flanked him, their interest piqued by whatever he was contemplating.

“i think im gonna do it,” lando said at last, sighing as though it was a ton of weight off his shoulders.

ed leaned in, keeping his voice low. “do what?”

lando glanced over at your direction, watching you laugh and something alisa was showing you on her phone. a genuine smile tugged at his lips before he turned back to them. “post her.”

“wait seriously? like what online? after all that happened before..” tom blinked, caught off guard.

“yeah,” lando replied firmly. “im sick of this whole thing with magui.. taking the position of my girlfriend when y/n, she’s, just sitting in the background. it’s not right.”

the two men exchanged nervous glances, then turning back to him. “you know what’s gonna happen though.” tom snorted.

ed chimed in, “people are gonna lose it. half of them will praise her, and the other half…”

“will probably lose their minds.” tom finished. “are you sure your ready to go through it all again?”

lando nodded, tapping his fingers on the back on his phone. “im positive. i have to stop letting the media meddle with my life y’know? i care about her, and i want people to know that.”

ed smirked, resting his hands on the back of his head. “alright then boss. show them your committed.”

“hard launch it, post it, and throw your phone into the ocean.” tom bounced back which made all three of them laugh.

“your not helping mate,” lando shook his head.

“just saying,” tom countered, “if your gonna do it, do it p-”

“what are you lot scheming about now?” alissa perched over, catching the tail of the conversation—her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

tom and ed quickly straightened up their posture, choking down a ridiculous amount of alcohol and looking anywhere but her.

lando scrambled with his phone, standing up quick enough for his spine to crack. “nothing.”

“uh-huh, sure. i think you three made that real obvious.” she laughed playfully, motioning to their shift in demeanour.

“well, get your asses moving guys! the countdowns starting soon.” she took tom by his jacket as ed followed.

you also got up, but lando stayed in his spot. “you coming lan?”

he hesitated, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers .“we’ll catch up with them. can we talk?”

you turned back to the others, as they were already making their way over to the opposite side of the rooftop.

lando led you closer to the railing, the city below stretching out like something out of a postcard. the buildings were displaying soft shimmers of colour, the air thermal and fervent.

he stood behind you, his tepid breath tickling your exposed neck. his arms were held protectively around your waist, as you both looked out to dubai’s skyline.

“what’s up?” you asked, noticing the way he was unusually quiet. a shaky breath escaped his lips, as he exhaled deeply.

“do you remember what we were talking about a few days ago? when i said that i hated not being able to post you and stuff..”

you nodded, trying to follow his thought process.

he looked at you, his face soft yet serious. “i wanted to do that next year. so in,” he took a brief glance at his watch. “three minutes.”

“but what about the media, what will they say?”an immense part of you wanted the same thing, but the fear of the unknown still lingered.

“i don’t care, fuck them,” he discarded your words. “i’m over it. all of it. the pretending, the stupid fake stuff with magui. i don’t care what people say anymore. i just want them to know it’s you.”

“are you sure? it’s a big commitment lando,” you whispered, barely audible. he hooked his finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“im sure. for once, im actually thinking straight.”

the brunette pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling swiftly through his photos, stopping at one from earlier this evening—him kissing your cheek, smiles blazing with the city glowing behind you.

he showed it to you, grinning impossibly wide. “is this okay? it’s one of my favourites.”

you bit your lip, your heart thudding. “yeah. it’s perfect.”

that’s all he needed to hear. with no hesitation, the photo gleamed onto his instagram story—captioning it simply:

‘2025: us❤️’

you let out a disbelieving laugh, as he tossed his phone onto a chair behind. “magui isn’t gonna be happy about that.”

“im sure she can find somebody else,” he laughed with you, hungrily kissing your neck. “it’s me and you remember?”

the countdown began in the distance, your friends’ voices joining the chorus.

“ten… nine…”

he spun you around, his eyes searching every highlight of yours.

“eight… seven…”

lando brushed a few stray hairs from your face, with his hands exploring every part of your skin.

“six… five…”

“your absolutely mental,” you shook your head, but you couldn’t wipe the smile of your face if you tried.

“four… three…”

“but im yours.” he replied, cupping your face.

“two… one!”

the sky illuminated with a ray of insquite colours, displaying the joy and happiness that your chest was full of. cheers erupted all around you, but you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

lando seized the minor gap between you, crashing his lips onto yours with such urgency that stole your breath. your arms snaked around the nape of his neck, kissing him back with the same intensity.

his lips parted yours to graze your bottom lip, the kiss raw and full of certainty that he wanted to seal with you as a start of a new beginning.

your phone blew up instantly, but the fireworks drowned out the sound. lando pulled back only the slightest, his body still tangled with your own.

“this year,” he said husky, his voice just for you, “it’s all about us.”

from behind, alisa’s voice rang out. “lando! oh my god, did you actually—”

ed let out a sharp whoop, tom joining into the chorus of clapping. “he actually did it! maybe he’s not such a pussy after all.”

lando grinned, still only keeping his focus on you. one last time, he pulled you back into his arms as the fireworks continued to burst above. “a promise is a promise, my love.”

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kedreeva · 7 days ago

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I think one of the funner things about Kpop Demon Hunters is that the relationship between Rumi and Jinu doesn't HAVE to be read as romance. It can be, of course, and most people will read it that way, and it may be intended to be... but actually it isn't integral to everything else they are, nor to the choices they make. Whether it's romantic or not doesn't change how meaningful it is, and in fact in this case actually feels as if romance would lessen it all.

Let me explain.

Behind a cut because spoilers.

We learn right at the start that Jinu is a 400 year old demon that, according to the demon king, has never - not in /400 years/ - done anything that didn't serve himself. Which is the whole reason he's a demon- because he literally threw his own mother and sister under the bus to go live in the palace.

And for 400 years, he's believed that, well, y'know, he's guilty. Which he is! He did do the thing, and he HAS put himself first for four centuries. But he also believes it is his nature that landed him there, not his choices. And you can't change your nature. The scorpion always stings the frog.

Then this 20-something kid turns up, and everyone's at a fork in the road with her. Either Rumi succeeds and turns the honmoon golden and all the demons are fucked (trapped in the demon world forever with no humans to feed on) or someone stops her and is the savior of the demons. Perfect opportunity to form a demon boy band and wallop the hunters but good at their own game, and if he can leverage it to get something he wants, well, it's in his nature.

At the start, he's totally on board with this plan. Plain as day he's amused that he can get under her skin. He's just fucking around. Like, if he loses he's no worse off than before and if he wins then he gets acclaim and fortune. Literally no downside here. She's just one more human he can destroy to get something he wants. He actually fights her in the bathhouse that first showdown, claws out and everything.

AND THEN.

And then he sees her Patterns, the mark of the demon king on her skin.

He has to RAPIDLY come to terms with the fact that this random-ass human is... actually not human. That she is at least part demon. And she is hunting demons. Which is NOT in a demon's nature. And he's GOT to know more, and he can't do that if she's found out by her friends and has to deal with that (also maybe she'll owe him one for not exposing her).

Because OBVIOUSLY she must just be covering up her true nature for some reason. So he pries, and he teases her, and over and over finds that... actually she's just a good person.

But more than that, she believes he can be a good person. HE knows he can't be a good person - 400 years of history has shown him that, it's in his nature! - but... maybe actually he wants to believe her. Maybe he wants to pretend for a little while that he could be good, if she will lead the way. "I'll make sure the Saja Boys lose tonight," he tells her. Until Gwi-Ma gets to him again, reminds him that he can't be anything else but a demon, that he would have told her the truth if he really thought he could be free if he was himself.

400 years of buckling under the weight of his guilt wins out, and he turns on her.

She's exposed. Her friends reject her. Her fans turn to him and the honmoon dissolves. Even her godmother turns on her. Whens he finds him, she asks him why he did it, and he rejects her, too. He tries to tell her the same thing he was told- she's a demon. He can't change his nature and neither can she, so just give in, because you can't fight it. All he deserves is the suffering he's earned, it's all demons deserve. All she deserves. She has nothing except every reason to turn into a demon and join them. To turn on all the humans who deserted her and serve herself.

And at his final show, he watches from the stage as Gwi-Ma stands tall and proud of brighter than he's been in centuries and mocks her where she stands in the shadows, Gwi-Ma attempts to use her worst fears against her: she cannot save herself, her friends and fans have all seen her for who she truly is, the honmoon she was supposed to turn gold is gone.

And he watches as she agrees.

And he watches as she says none of it matters. It doesn't matter that she's part demon. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of her. It doesn't matter what has been done in the past- she's going to forge a new honmoon now, she's going to fight back now, she is going to protect others now.

Can you even imagine.

The Good Place had it right: What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday.

She's told him all through the story. You can be good, you can be good, you made mistakes, but you can be good. You can choose to be good. "that's the funny thing about hope, no one else gets to decide if you feel it." And she stands in the shadows and agrees that everything has gone wrong, but she puts her foot and and pushes back anyway because no one else gets to tell her it's hopeless. She made mistakes, but what matters is not those choices, it's the next choices.

And the next choice she makes is to kick Gwi-Ma's ass.

And for the first time in 400 years, this guy does something that isn't self-serving. He puts himself between Gwi-Ma and Rumi. He knows damn well he's not going to survive it. He knows that if he doesn't, Gwi-Ma will reward him for being instrumental to the success of the demons taking over the world and getting rid of the hunters. But he's watched her choose to act in ways counter to her nature, to be who she WANTS to be, and she's told him he can do that if he wants, and this is the last chance he's going to get either way.

So he takes it, and she doesn't tell him she loves him- she tells him she wanted to save him. Part of her had wrapped up his freedom in the definition of success. She needed to save him because "If there's no hope for you, then what hope is there for me?" Saving him had become a part of saving herself. Saving him had become a part of saving the world because she wants him to be in her world- literally, in her world and not the demon world.

But she did save him. She gave him hope. She showed him that he can choose to be good. That his past only matters if he lets it control him. You can't change your past, can't destroy your shame, but you can choose to do better. You can be good NOW.

And he chooses to.

Maybe he doesn't believe he can be good, but maybe he hopes. Maybe he hopes he can give her the chance he didn't get, to be good.

We see the way souls light up. We see how they make connections. The honmoon is all about connection. She's already forged the honmoon anew when she reconnected to her best friends. They forged the shield, and he gives his soul to her instead of Gwi-Ma so that she can forge a blade as strong as both their souls together, and she immediately uses it cleave the demon king in half.

Are you kidding me? That's totally killer imagery.

And right after she went to her godmother and asked to be killed before she hurts what she swore to protect. After we see how she has been told her whole life that what she is, it's shameful and she needs to change to be worth anything. She can only be someone once her patterns are gone.

And he hands over his soul to her because that isn't true. She's someone NOW. She matters NOW. She wanted to set him free, and she did. There was hope for him, and there is hope for her.

idk man, idk. romance is good and all, but "well of COURSE he would do that because they're in love" feels like a cop out. It feels like "of COURSE this would happen because that's the nature of love" in a movie whose whole thing is that a person's choices are more powerful than their nature.

Maybe he was in love, maybe she was. I don't think it matters. What matters is that they both finally chose freedom together. They showed one another how to be free of the thing that has trapped them for so long, and in doing so, saved each other.

#kpop demon hunters #like don't get me wrong I ship it #I'll ship anything #but man it hits different and deeper without it this time #my writing

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et6rnalsun · 6 months ago

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PRANKING BOYFRIEND! MATT

your eyebrows were so close to touching the fucking ceiling as you raised them in skepticism, reading the comments written by little girls under some montages of your boyfriend hitting his brother. something like that seemed almost surreal to you, since at the beginning when you watched the unedited clip that nick had shown you, you’d just laughed like an idiot, finding it funny & just a familiar scene— unlike the fans who seemed to have taken it personally, maybe?

your manicured fingers scrolled through those comments, and you read and read until you lingered on one that stood out more than the others; babbling about how matt could perfectly be so violent and abusive in a relationship and towards his girlfriend, too. rolling your eyes, you fought the urge to answer her and simply turned off your phone, placing it next to you on the bed, matt’s one, you were lying on. the wheels in your head spun until they fabricated an idea that made you snap out of your rotting position, and you cleared your throat. “matt!” you called out in a loud voice, hoping he could hear you from downstairs.

you did it once, again, and then a third time—but to no avail. “come on,” you whined in a huff, taking the phone again as you went to emergency calls, “my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨⭐️” glowing red and first. you called his number, humming softly as the sound of the ringing vibrated in your ear where you had the screen resting.

when he answered, you smiled, your feet kicking at the sound of his soft and soothing voice, so tired from making dinner for you & his brothers. “matt, can you come up to your room please? i need to talk to you.” you already expected matt’s heartbeat and anxiety to be at a thousand at your statement. in fact, not even a minute later, he was already in the room as he approached after closing the door. “what is it, baby?” he asked you, tilting his head as he looked down at you. he stood over your prone form, and as he did, he placed his hands on the corners of your body, lowering his head slightly to kiss your lips as a sort of greeting. you wanted to give up on everything just because of the way his cold necklace was dangling on your neck, brushing against it.

dramatically, you pushed him away as you sat on the bed and looked at him with the most serious expression you could muster. “i’m for real, we need to talk”

matt frowned, sitting down next to you as he rested a hand on your knee — one way or another, he was always searching physical touch with you. it was melting your heart. “did i do somethin? tell me, honestly, i have no idea” he was in a state of mild panic, it was rare to see you so serious and offended by something. (even if it was all fake) “i didn’t like how you hit nick” these words made him roll his eyes in the sassiest way ever, and he raised a finger that you immediately slapped, continuing to talk. “i’m not kiddin’! what if you hit me like that too?” that was your joke; making him believe that you were seriously worried about something that in reality, you never could.

“you cant be serious”

“i am” you shrugged, looking at how his blue and pretty eyes widened.

silence filled the room for a moment, and he shook his head repeatedly as he took his hand off your knee. “how can you be serious, actually? that— that just means you don’t know shit about me,” his tone was hurt, and he moved to stand up as he looked ready to put an end to whatever that shit was.

but before he could get far, you stood up and practically jumped on his shoulders, your arms around his neck as you hugged him so tight, like he was about to disappear. “love, baby, light of my life, it was a joke,” you quickly told him, your head tilted so you could look directly at his face from your position. he was clearly confused as fuck. “i saw all this shit in the comments on a tiktok ‘bout you hittin nick and i wanted to do this. come on, forgive me,” you added, kissing his cheek lightly as an amused chuckled escaped your lips. and, you were fucked. from behind, he pushed you onto the bed before turning around and throwing himself on top of you, tickling you to death. “you havin fun playin with me like this, huh? really?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you squirm with the most beautiful laugh in the world. even if he should be angry and everything. “you are a bad person, fuck. the worst”

that said a lot about the kind of person your boyfriend was.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #fem reader #matt sturniolo x fem reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturn #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo being your boyfriend

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padmerry · 3 months ago

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Stan twins: codependency & identity issues

“I tell you it’s unnatural for siblings to get along as well as you do,” says Stan to Dipper and Mabel in Not What He Seems, clearly missing his own relationship with Ford before things started to change. “We used to be like Dipper and Mabel,” says Ford in Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls. Were they really, though?

I think what many people don’t get about Stan and Ford’s dynamic as children, or even as teenagers, is that, no matter what Stan and Ford think or say about it, they were not like Mabel and Dipper. That just highlights their lack of self-awareness. Here’s a canon analysis for anyone who cares to understand my point:

Mabel and Dipper have overall very different interests and hobbies and act separately on them. They have other friends and spend time with them—well, at least Mabel has Candy and Grenda, as the bubbly social butterfly she is; Dipper, on the other hand, seems way more preoccupied with deciphering the mysteries of Journal 3, but doesn’t miss an opportunity to be included in Wendy’s cool teenage group, as seen in episodes The Inconveniencing and The Love God (in the latter, he seems to be actually succeeding). As fraternal twins of different genders, no matter how alike they look (and despite Mabel’s joke of being “girl Dipper”), they still manage to retain pretty distinct identities. No issue here.

Mabel does her sleepovers, goes to boy band shows, and has encounters with potential crushes. When a surprised Dipper asks her about her vampire love in The Deep End, she points out, “I don’t tell you everything.” Dipper, meanwhile, explored the town with Soos, went to Wendy’s house, hung out with her teen gang, and overall lived many adventures without Mabel, such as trying to prove himself a man with help of the Manotaurs. I think the episode that shows the healthy independence Dipper and Mabel had from each other the best is probably Carpe Diem, inspired in Alex’s real life frustration with his sister, Ariel, but it can be observed all through the series:

What is shown to us in AToTS already differs from that. The Stan twins were inseparable, and each other’s only friends, as Stan establishes early on in his narrative: “Those bullies may have been right about us not making many friends, but when push comes to shove, you only really need one.”

With his question to Ford in the Lost Legends comic, The Jersey Devil’s in the Details, Stan implies they really did everything together, in a way reminiscent of Phineas and Ferb: “So what’re we gonna do today, buddy?”

Even small details, like the toys in their room, served to show the difference between the Stans and Dipper & Mabel, as Matt Chapman clarifies on the episode’s official commentary:

You also see that at this age, all the stuff that would cross over, that would appeal to both of them. You know, it’s not just like, oh, there’s science stuff here and then there’s like—I don’t know—what little Stan would be into. It’s like, no, they both like all this.

“But Mabel was just as desperate in Dipper and Mabel vs the Future as Stan was in A Tale of Two Stans!” Yes, true. She was, and I do believe her relationship with Dipper was the most important one in her life. But do you think the facts that a) she was already terrified of growing up, as shown in the episode Summerween, b) Candy and Grenda declined her invitations to their birthday party, c) Wendy showed her the apparently terrible reality of being a teenager, and d) Stan told her that it would be fine because at least she would always have Dipper... had nothing to with it? Originally her parents were going to forbid her from bringing Waddles to Piedmont, as revealed in the episode commentary of Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future, as just one more heartbreaking thing on the pile of Mabel’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (Of course, teen Stan’s circumstances were aggravated by the bad home situation he was being “left alone” in by Ford—just like Mabel! Whose parents were arguing, per TBoB canon, to the point of giving Dipper recurring nightmares.)

Another very important thing is that the poor girl was twelve years old, while Stan was presumably seventeen-ish, an age at which separation would be normal and even expected, with the time for college approaching. In fact, differently from what happened with Mabel, whose imminent separation from Dipper came out of left field through an unexpected proposal by Ford (foreshadowed only by her slight discomfort over how close Ford and Dipper were becoming), there was a blatant rift between the teen Stans that Ford went so far as to acknowledge to Stan’s face. Using Stan’s own words from the Land Before Swine commentary: “Anyway, cut to high school, the guy’s never kissed a girl, prom is coming up, and he asked me for advice. ‘Stanley, I know things have been a little weird between you and me with college, but can you talk to me about girls?’” That was before prom (the one in which a girl threw fruit punch at Ford), mind you.

And still, this is what Stan thinks when he realizes Ford is going to accept the scholarship: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him.” He saw himself as only half of a whole—no wonder, with the way both twins were pushed to believe this since their birth, when they were both named Stan.

When asked about Shermie, Alex observed that a crucial part of their dynamic is that they only had each other. No younger or older brother to support them. The quote from HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

I think the suggestion was, “Maybe Shermie would be a baby. Maybe that would happen.” And being like, “okay sure.”

Let’s not forget, too, the only time Ford ever mentions Shermie in Journal 3—“Sherman Pines’s,” surname and all:

From my own observations about their parents, that point is only driven further home.

Filbrick is, well, Filbrick. I don’t think I need to explain much here; every one of us has different interpretations and headcanons about him, but they seem to all agree on the common factor he wasn’t a good father—how much that can be justified by their time period or stretched to accommodate the most heartwrenching stangst is up for debate, just not a subject for this post.

Caryn is more complicated. I think Filbrick was definitely ‘worse’ than her, so to speak, at least in a more obvious way, and she has canonically demonstrated considerable fondness for Stan in particular—according to her, Stan’s rambunctiousness can be attributed to an excess of “personality,” he’s her “little free spirit.” She was, most notably, one of the two people present at Stan’s funeral if the info on the new website is to be trusted. We see her smiling brightly in the picture of the baby Stan twins included in TBoB, which hints at the fact she indeed liked her kids.

But the fact that she, as an adult, didn’t intervene when Stan was kicked out is simply, in my point of view, inexcusable. One could say she was momentarily paralyzed from an overwhelming fear of Filbrick, as a supposed victim herself, but a) that’s already entering headcanon domain, and b) I think that’s far from the truth and directly contradicting the comics, in which she looks happy and relaxed in the company of Filbrick: initiating contact and kissing him on the cheek, comfortingly stroking his back, looking at him with can only be described as tenderness... I don’t think Filbrick is meant to be seen as a monster, not in an exaggerated way. (He’s shown to be touched by Stan’s little stunt with the golden chain, too.) Just a really shitty father, in a common, boring, more nuanced, no less traumatizing, way.

Borrowing a paragraph from a previous analysis:

To me, the most telling thing of all is the fact Stan calls for Ford to help him, not his own mother. Ford, his brother, same age as him, who was at the moment beyond furious with him and very unlikely to show any compassion. Ford, whose attempts to change Filbrick’s mind would more likely than not have been unsuccessful. Not Caryn, adult, who probably had much greater sway over Filbrick. They say a child’s first instinct is to call for their mama. Clearly not in this case!

I’m not saying, here, that Caryn didn’t care about her boys. I elaborate more on her in the meta referenced above, here.

I find it adorable how easily, without any previous prompting, baby Stanley opens up to Ford about his feelings in the comics. The sheer vulnerability of this moment, seeking Ford’s reassurance that he wasn’t a bad kid; the implicit, profound trust, especially coming from someone like Stan, who grows into a man packed to the gills with toxic masculinity due to what he learned from his father. And the manner in which Ford gently comforts him, as if he were used to doing so. As Stan, too, had been shown to do when Crampelter mocked Ford’s fingers. They were clearly accustomed to being each other’s emotional pillars, in the way that kids who learned early on that they can’t count on adults or lean on the authority figures in their lives start building their own little safe space.

The way I see it, the Stan twins got along extremely well, for better or for worse. No obnoxious sibling bickering. No fights and conflict. How could they? They were literally each other’s only friend. If anything, their first major fight was caused by lack of communication, among many other things; they repressed their frustrations with each other to a ridiculous point instead of simply externalizing them like you would expect of an average sibling dynamic.

Second of all, they were monozygotic aka identical twins, as strongly hinted in the show, comics, and books, and as confirmed by Alex on the TBoB website, the behind-the-scenes DVD commentaries, and Twitter. The first mention of it, in 2015, below:

They were both named Stan, they had the same face. I’ve read irl identical twins’ confessions about the nature of such a relationship re: identity issues and how people tend to treat you, and it’s often not pretty. In the Stan twins’ case, their sense of identity was beyond blurry, and it’s not difficult to see why. If you pay attention to the show or the comics, you’ll see many hints of this unhealthiness: the way they were both called to the principal’s office (“Pines twins,” even though only Ford was an interested party), the way Stan was called “a dumber, sweatier version” of Ford by Crampelter, the way they had already pretended to be each other before, not in their childhood but adolescence (Stan’s idea, according to hilarious extra material in the DVDs).

Baby Ford, in the comics, has demonstrated a tendency to shoulder the blame that should only be attributed to Stan. For example, when he exclaims, “Oh my God! We killed the Sibling Brothers!” Ford, honey, if anyone had killed the Sibling Brothers, it would’ve been your brother, the person who shoved them in the first place. Not you.

I find it adorable that he also grounded himself for Stan! Filbrick had been very clear about grounding Stan, only, not both twins. But Ford stays with him as if he were grounded as well, as if he didn’t even have a choice. Where Stan was, there was Ford, not far behind.

They were an unit. Inseparable. As simple as that.

Until they weren’t.

The science fair incident happens, of course—and it’s worth noting Ford doesn’t consider the possibility that Stan sabotaged him out of jealousy or envy of his success for even a second! Instead, he immediately assumes Stan broke his machine so Ford would stay with him!

Did their codependency end with their separation, then? I’ve seen many people believing that yes, it did.

But mullet!Stan, now an adult, ten years after his fight with Ford, still resents Ford for not staying with him “forever”:

Not only that, but as Rob Renzetti (who is Gravity Falls’ supervising producer and story editor and the co-author of Journal 3) phrased it in this separate interview by HanaHyperfixates, Ford’s absence in Stan’s life haunted him and shaped all his relationships:

Um, I mean, to me that’s—I mean, really, Stan—Stan’s life has been… it’s been… sad, and lonely, since—he really… his brother was his best friend, and he loved him so, and I don’t think, you know, I don’t think any other relationship ever worked out for him, because of what happened between him and his brother.

And by the end of it all, you get Bill calling Stan “co-dependant” (British Bill?) on the TBoB website:

I know you might think, at first, that we should take Bill’s insults with a grain of salt, since he’s 1) Bill and 2) petty and desperate. But Bill has also a track record of trying to hit where he thinks will hurt the most, and he knows people. His insult here is not an isolated thing either. It might have been easily dismissed, I agree, if not for all the other evidence for the Stans’ codependency that I’m currently showing you. It’s just one proof out of many, just reinforcing an idea that’s already presented quite clearly.

If you’re still not convinced, Alex has revealed in HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan’s interview that Ford’s entire character was built around the type of person that could plausibility explain Stan’s neediness:

Ford was very much us building backwards. The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it’s like, you know the damage someone’s family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?

But Stan’s codependency, imo, was always easier to see than Ford’s, to the point people mistakenly think Stan cared more about Ford than Ford about him. (I’ve dedicated an entire meta to debunking that assumption as well, here.)

In the commentary of Society of the Blind Eye, though, Alex added, referring to Ford and Fiddleford’s friendship:

Ford as somebody who lost Stan is kinda looking for—even though he rejected his brother, he kinda needs, he needs that other person, and he tried to find that in this kinda sweet prodigy and he just pushed him too far.

What Alex said about Ford’s relationship with Fiddleford can easily be applied to Ford’s relationship with Bill and with Dipper, since Ford needs “that other person,” needs to be one half of a duo. Ford has tried to recreate his dynamic with Stan again, and again, and again:

And then, of course, we have Ford’s proposal.

What’s really cool about this first image (below) is that it was drawn before Stan even accepted Ford’s proposal, and parallels their childhood picture in Ford’s pocket (one that, per Word of God, Ford has always carried with him, even before his portal days, as explained here) in a very obvious manner:

Ford was already excitedly fantasizing, drawing fanart of them together, picking their outfits and the name of the boat.

But more than that, he also says:

[...] I think it’s time for the Pines twins to join forces again. At least, I hope so. I haven’t discussed my idea with Stan yet. But if I know my brother, he will jump at the chance to find “money and babes.”

And this, to me, expresses both his hope that Stan would welcome his idea and agree to sail away with him and his almost certainty that it is exactly what is going to happen. Ford does mention Stan’s love for “money and babes,” but do you guys think Ford didn’t know what (or better yet, whom) Stan actually loved? In AToTS, Journal 3, and TBoB’s new canon material, we can observe that same certainty. In all three instances, Ford immediately assumes that Stan will show up and come for his call via postcard with no indication whatsoever that the possibility of Stan declining showed up in his mind.

Alex has also commented, in the first interview I’ve referenced:

Those characters at sea—it was so rich. They’re really really funny, because they both have major major blind spots. I can kinda write stories about them as a duo forever, because you can always excuse them both getting hyped on a bad idea for their own reasons, and then you can always come up with a reason for them to disagree about it, and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

Not only reinforcing the idea that their codependency was—or at least eventually became—mutual, but confirming that things returned to their status quo. Ford has a black & white mindset, the only way he knows how to be with Stan is a codependent way. They’re either separated and estranged or they’re sailing completely alone on a boat for the rest of their lives. Either rivals or best friends forever. There’s no middle ground for him.

#stanford pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #stan twins #gravity falls #gravity falls meta #stan twins meta

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toonice113 · 3 months ago

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This Ken’s job is hockey ⋆ ★ N.Hischier

Pairings: Nico Hischier x reader

Genre: fluff, SMAU at the end

Summary: In which you have a famous podcast with your best friend where you talk about everything and anything including stories about your relationship even though people don’t know the identity of your boyfriend — that is until you decide to hard launch him

Warnings: none

Word count: 554

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Wrote most of this last night at midnight when I couldn’t sleep and didn’t proofread it but here’s a little blurb to celebrate Nico’s second hat trick and the two wins against the wild.

You were in the middle of filming a new episode of your podcast when your best friend brings up the topic of men’s fashion “Like when men were wearing those stupid jeans with ribs on them” Your face contorts in cringe thinking back on it “Or skinny jeans but like really tight skinny jeans”

“You know what I hate? When I see a girl on a date and she’s all dressed up and the guy’s made no effort” You say, your friend agreeing

“YESSSS!!! I once went out on a first date with this guy and he wore sweats to it which I would get if our plans were just casual but we were going to a fancy-ish restaurant” You laugh at her story “You got lucky with Ken”

“He lives in athleisure when he’s home, you have no idea” You chuckle thinking “He’s so over suits which sucks cause he looks yummy in them”

Your friend winces at your last comment “Please never call him yummy again, anyways for those of you who don’t know Ken—”

“My boyfriend” You clarify

“Yes, his job requires him to wear suits and y/n loves it”

“I do love it” You nod at the camera

“You know, you’ve never revealed why you started calling him Ken online” Your friend says “Why don’t you share that story with everyone?”

“Oh well it started because I’ve never shown him in anything before and we’ve always talked about having a more private relationship since well you know I post a lot of my life on the internet” You say, your friend nodding as both of your content outside of the podcast is pretty similar “And there was this day when I was you know doing my usual making my coffee and sharing a story tiktok and the story was about how I’d had a bad day the day before I hadn’tslept enough”

“And you guys don’t want to deal with a sleep deprived y/n, it gets bad” Your friend adds

You flip her off before continuing your story “Anyways I was tired and cranky and my he had made plans for lunch that day but because I was in a bad mood we ended up leaving lunch early to take a nap because he knew I would be insufferable for the rest of the day if I didn’t get more sleep”

“Big nap household you guys are” You nod “I wish i could nap but I can’t sleep during the day”

“Honestly? I wasn’t much of a napper before him” You say “But now I love naps”

“Okay finish your story” Your friend reminds you knowing this nap tangent could keep going for way longer

“Right, so after I posted that one comment said ‘Barbie has a great day everyday, but Ken only has a great day If Barbie gets enough sleep’ and then I just started calling him Ken when I told my stories” You finish

“Well I think the nickname Ken does suit him to be honest, I will attest to Ken only having a good day if Barbie smiles at him” Soon after that you two finish the episode.

It’s months after, on your 2 year anniversary, after sharing dozen of stories about ‘Ken’ that you finally hard launched your relationship with an Instagram post.

yourusername

Liked by nicohischier and others

yourusername This Ken's job is Hockey! 2 years of loving you here's to many more 💘

view all comments

📌 nicohischier 2 years of having good days thanks to you

yourfriend you two are disgustingly cute happy two years!

user I was convinced she was dating a finance bro

↳ user2 no because me too! especially because of the suit comments

user3 it feels illegal to know this man's identity

user4 wtf do you mean nico hischier is THE ken

user5 thank you for introducing us i will now go back to pretending i don't know who this man is, happy 2 years though!

↳ user6 right? because he will always be ken to me

yourusename don't worry everyone, he'll still be ken in my story times!

#nhl fic #nj devils fic #nico hischier #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine

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readychilledwine · 3 months ago

Text

New Beginnings

Summary - Having two mates was never easy, especially when you all had different homes.

Warnings - Readers boyfriends definitely are not boyfriends, references to smut, swearing, drinking

A/N - you all thought I wouldn't try to get my poop in a group for my beloved @polysjmweek? Wrong. I had drafts. I'm forcing myself to post them. @acourtofladydeath, forgive my lateness. And my dropping of many things late. Closed Vs are something we had talked a lot about, and I wanted to make sure to feature one this year! A closed v is a challenging dynamic that requires 3 very secure people, and it felt so right to start my late posting with this.

This fic was written for day 1 - who's court is it anyways?

SJM Poly+ Week 2025 Masterlist

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

“Mother, save me,” you murmured as Azriel and Eris started arguing again. Life would have been easier if Azriel and Eris were also mates, but the Cauldron decided this was much more entertaining. You sighed and got between them. They’d been arguing for several hours about which court you three would be settling into as a permanent home. Eris wanted to stay in Autumn, and rightfully so, with his chances of being High Lord so high. Azriel believed the Night Court was the best option and that he owed Rhysand his life, possibly even his first born with how loyal he was.

Your home had been immediately denied. “Why would we move to the coldest place in Prythian,” Eris had asked. Azriel immediately had agreed, stating his wings would freeze in the bitter winds of the Winter Court.

“Rhysand needs me,” Azriel growled at Eris. “My court needs me!”

“So does mine,” Eris shot back. “I will be High Lord some day, and I have to be in Autumn to heal Autumn!”

You sighed softly, hands on two strong chests as they glared. “Does anyone care what I think?” Both males seemed to relax at the sound of your voice. “Because I think this is ridiculous, and maybe we all aren’t actually ready to move into one home.” The silence that met that statement was deafening. You had spent the last 7 years having to bounce between Autumn and Night. a week with Ers. A week with Azriel. A week at home, the Mountain House, a quiet comfort. Dating two males, being mated to two males, especially two males who were not interested in each other, was not for the faint of heart. You took a deep breath, eyes closing as you did. “I think we have a great thing,” you continued. “Our relationship and the dynamic we have is special to me, but I worry it isn’t special to you two. I worry that us moving in together will not be with you not-” You paused. “With you two.. Unable to cooperate and get along.”

Eris and Azriel looked at you, eyes so different. Eris was inquisitive, Azriel was stunned. You had never shown any signs of thinking there were issues within the relationship the 3 of you shared, at least, not issues you had acknowledged to them. You were such a relaxed fae and would go where the wind took you. Eris sat down, knowing this was a serious conversation time, not a fun one. He pointed to the chair across from the couch he was on, his rings sparkling on his long finger as you moved and sat. Azriel sat by Eris, leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “How long have you felt this way,” Eris was fighting to keep his voice soft. “And why are the two of us just finding out?”

Azriel then added, “And how can we fix it?”

They had similarities, and this process was one of them. They allowed the comfortable silence to fall over the room as you thought and then took a deep breath. “I think I first started feeling this way at our first Starfall all together. I felt pulled and like spending too much time with Azriel disrespected you,” you said to Eris. “But too much time with Eris, and I was hurting you,” you directed at Azriel. “I felt.. Spread so thin.”

Eris nodded in clear thought. He was thinking over everything you had told them first before nodding, wanting you to continue. “I have tried to bring it up to both of you one on one since us in one place rarely happens, but my time with Azriel is spent-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” the Illyrian blushed.

“And my time with Eris is spent acting like the perfect future Lady of Autumn,” you smiled and held in a laugh to Azriel’s sudden shyness.

Eris chuckled, a laugh deep and full like his whiskey, “A shame, really. Sounds like your time with Azriel is much more productive than your time with me. Does she curl her -"

Azriel blushed harder, the faint pinkish-red hiding under his tan skin. “Shut up, Eris. She still has to tell us how to fix it.” They both turned back to you, “Keep talking, salvation.”

It was your turn to blush, the precious nickname Azriel had given you always enough to make your heart flutter and the bond grow warm. “I just would like you two to be friends. For you two to learn to be civil enough that we could spend time as the three of us. I don’t need you two to ever want to have sex, but knowing I could leave you two alone for 2 or 3 hours to head to market without one of you being dead when I came back would be nice.” Both males nodded.

Another deep breath relaxed the feeling of your heart beating in your chest. The two of them were studying each other. “It starts with addressing the elephant in the room, Eris,” You said as gently as you could.

He leaned forward more, taking a moment to center, and he began. He told Azriel everything about his relationship with Mor, the illyrian nodding as Eris explained his choices to Azriel and explained everything he had done was to protect Mor, you, and himself. Azriel then had to explain himself as well, admitting the Night Court had a plan for killing Eris as soon as Morrigan said yes, but they had told Morrigan it would not happen now that Azriel was tied to Eris in a roundabout way. It was several hours of your mates talking, voices low and unhurried. They’d never gotten along this well and for this long.

The conversation switched at some point, the males going from discussing their issues to the things you had known for a while they shared in common. Dancing being the biggest one. From there it became showing their dagger collection. Discussions on the hounds. Hunting. You.

Beautiful, brilliant you.

You were the first to retire for the evening, standing in the hall between the guest room and Eris’s. Whenever the 3 of you were together, you had to make a choice on who you slept with each night, bouncing between beds sometimes like it should have been a profession. Soft hands led you by your hips, pushing you into Eris’s room. The warm scent of baked apple and fire was like a pull, drawing you in more and more. Your own hands found the ones holding you, scarred flesh, greeting them. “I think his bed is large enough for all three of us,” a voice like deep night whispered to you. “Think we can make that work? We know how happy it would make you, and it is time for us to try.” If Eris had a scent that pulled like a magnet, Azriel’s was the lock shutting you in. The two mixed, that chilled air and cedar in weaving into fire, felt like the safest combination you had ever wrapped yourself into.

“I think we’d all fit,” the softness of your voice had him smiling.

“Then lay down. We’ll come in once we finish our drinks.”

And that night, the three of you tucked into one bed together. It felt like something new was beginning. A new chapter. One you had been hoping to welcome for far too long now.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #azriel x reader #eris x reader #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader x Azriel #poly+sjmweek2025

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 month ago

Text

Ugly Side To Fame

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: fluff, angst, being kidnapped and forced to act out a fantasy, implied smut

Request by anon: can you do a Spencer x reader where the reader is like a famous singer model actress (what ever you want the reader to be) and she is gorgeous and no one on the team knows because her and Spencer what to keep it private because of how famous she is and Garcia is her biggest fan and one day she never shows up to her and Spencer dinner date and he is worried about her so her goes to her condo house and sees that the door is wide open and the house is ransacked and there is blood and he call the team and they open a case for her but then they get specious of why he was at her condo and he comes clean to them about dating her

Summary: You’re a famous model with lots of fans who adore you. When one of them crosses the line between fan and stalker, it’s up to Spencer’s team to save you before it’s too late.

Square Filled: forced to hurt someone for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: just a reminder that there are models of all sizes, and each of them is beautiful!

You arch your back and tilt your head slightly to the right, staring at the camera as you do. Fans blow all around the set to keep the models cool, but you can feel the baby oil sliding down your skin into places where it shouldn’t be. You’re hot, sticky, and sweaty, but the position is perfect.

“Great work, Y/N! Now turn toward Gio and put your hands on his shoulders lazily.”

You turn toward your coworker and sling your arms around his shoulders naturally, leaning into him slightly.

“Fantastic job, you two. Don’t look at the camera.”

The photographer snaps a few dozen photos from different angles, and she grins when she’s done. You feel a sense of pride when she grins like that. It means you’re doing your job right. You’re a famous model, shown all across the country and different parts of the world in billboards, ads, magazines, and even fashion shows. You’ve even gotten a spot in the next Victoria Secret show, and that’s something you’re looking forward to.

People are coming and going from this set, so you don’t think much of the chatter until you see him. The love of your life. Your rock. Your love. Spencer Reid. He must have gotten off work early and decided to come see you.

“Okay, take five while I reset everything.”

You break away from your coworker and immediately go to Spencer’s side, pulling him in for a hug. You’re careful not to get too much baby oil on him, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” You lean up and kiss him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you. We don’t have a case this weekend, so be prepared to spend every minute with me.”

“Sounds like a dream.” The five minutes are up, and you look back at set. “I should be done in thirty minutes. Wait for me.”

You scurry off to do more poses with your coworker. Spencer has never been the jealous type. He’s secure in his relationship with you. Yes, you’re a model. Yes, you have a lot of fans who adore you. Yes, you do often pose with half-naked men. However, he’s the one you’re going to go home with at the end of the day. You never fail to show him how much you love him. He loves seeing you on ads and billboards, and he made sure to secure a spot at the Victoria Secret fashion show next month.

He could not be more proud of you.

After the shoot is done, and you’ve taken a quick shower, you two leave hand in hand. He doesn’t drive, but you don’t mind the walk to your house.

“So, when am I going to meet your friends?”

“Is it so wrong to want to stay in this bubble with you?”

“Have you even told them about me? That I’m a famous model?”

“If I have, you’d know about it. Penelope is your biggest fan.”

The topic of meeting his second family has always come up, especially recently. It’s not that he’s hiding you or wants to hide you. He knows how people can get, and he wants to keep you all to himself. You’ll meet them eventually, but tonight won’t be that night. You don’t feel shame from him, so you know that's not the issue. It can be overwhelming, especially when the love of your life is so much more famous than you. Spencer is setting high expectations for his friends. What if they don’t like you? What if they do? What if you get hurt because of him and his job?

You get to your house and immediately go to the kitchen to put a frozen pizza in the oven. It’s quick, and you don’t feel like cooking a whole meal after a long day. Being a model doesn’t mean you get to skimp out on what you eat. You work out regularly, and with the right balance, you can have both a model career and eat what you want. Models like Kendall Jenner and Gigi Hadid look great, but you know how strictly they set rules for themselves.

When you became a model, you promised yourself you weren't going to be like them.

You and Spencer enjoy pizza and a movie, but you’re in the mood for some dessert. Before the movie ends, you slink closer to his side and attach your lips to his neck. Spencer relaxes against the couch and pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. You suck on the sensitive spot underneath his ear, and he grows harder underneath you.

He cups your cheeks and pulls your lips to his, and he kisses you passionately. He hooks his hands under your thighs and stands with you in his arms. The night is filled with steamy passion, one that leaves you shaking for more.

On Monday, he arrived at work before you got up. He left a note on his pillow that he’ll see you for lunch. He’ll call you later with details. If he looked into a mirror before he left, he’d have seen something he never wanted his friends to see. The girls are around JJ’s desk gossiping about what they did over the weekend.

JJ is about to share what she, Will, and the boys did when she sees it. Her mouth parts, and the girls turn to see what JJ is looking at. At first, they don’t see it until Spencer turns his head. Right on his neck is a big red spot from where you were sucking.

“Who, Spencer, who knew you’d be the type?” JJ chuckles.

“What?”

“Damn, here I thought all you did was read and do research,” Tara laughs.

“What are you talking about?”

Matt and Luke walk over to see what the girls are giggling about when they see the mark on Spencer’s neck.

“Who, Spencer, who’s your little girlfriend?” Luke grins.

Spencer looks at everyone and finally realizes what they’re looking at. His hand flies to the side of his neck where he knows your mark is, and his cheeks redden.

“I burned myself.”

“With that, a curling iron?” JJ smirks.

“You have a girl we don’t know about?” Luke asks.

“What? No.”

“Oh, so then you’re hooking up with people?” Tara smirks.

“No. Okay. Yes, I’m dating someone, but she’s not ready to meet you all yet.” That’s a lie. It’s he who isn’t ready. He’s content with staying in this bubble for as long as he can. “Can we return to work now?”

Spencer leaves before anyone else can ask more questions. They’ll come to know you soon enough, so he wants to avoid those questions as long as he can. Like last week, there isn’t an active case since the B team is out, so he focuses on the files he has open. Time flies, and it’s lunchtime before he knows it.

He takes out his phone to call you, but you don’t answer the phone. You must be caught in a shoot that’s running long, and he doesn’t want to bother you. He leaves a voicemail saying he can do a late lunch, but you don’t return his call. He doesn’t think much of it and returns to work. By the end of the day, he starts to become worried that you haven’t answered any of his calls. It’s weird, but maybe work ran late.

However, the set is closed when he arrives to pick you up. If you’re not at work, then you have to be at home, and you should have answered his calls. As he walks to your house, he calls you. All of them have gone to voicemail, and he immediately becomes suspicious. That suspicion turns to worry when he sees your house.

The front door is wide open which is Spencer’s first indication that something is wrong. He walks inside your house carefully as if someone will pop up and scare him. The living room is to the right, and the furniture is toppled over as if you were running from someone or something.

The kitchen is worse with every drawer and cabinet open, and knives on the ground. He doesn’t even want to see what upstairs looks like, but he goes up there regardless. The first thing he notices is the pool of blood on the carpet. He doesn’t need to see the rest of the house.

He knows what he needs to do.

He pulls out his phone and calls his team. Only they are going to be able to help. He doesn’t trust the local PD to be able to solve this. If you’re hurt and suffering, he needs only the best to track you down. Soon, your house is crawling with officers, CSIs, and his team.

“Look, I know I said she wasn’t ready to meet you all, but it was me who wasn’t ready. I guess I wanted to stay in this bubble we created. My girlfriend is Y/N, the famous model. I don’t know what happened here, but we were meant to get lunch together. I thought she was at work because she never answered my calls. I just came here to see this. I don’t know what happened.”

Everyone is shocked that Spencer is dating. No, not that he is dating. It’s that he’s dating you. They never pictured him with a model. They’re happy for him, of course, but it’s a little shocking when they never expected it.

Still, this is a crime scene, and everyone snaps into focus. A sample of the blood is taken to the labs for testing. If it doesn’t come out as yours, then whoever was in this house after you is hurt. The local PD is tasked with gathering as much evidence as they can from the scene alongside Matt and Rossi.

With being a famous model, you have a lot of fans from all over the country, the world, even. If you were attacked in your home, then the person who did this to you might have been a fan. Spencer, JJ, and Penelope are tasked with going through your social media and laptop to see if there is someone who has taken a special interest in you.

Luke is going around to your neighbors in hopes someone might have seen something, so Spencer heads back to the BAU with JJ and your laptop. Penelope heard the news as soon as Spencer called, so she tried to contain her excitement about potentially knowing her favorite model.

“I’ll be sure to introduce her to you after this, but here is her laptop,” Spencer says and hands it over.

“Sure, of course. Don’t worry, Spencer, we’ll find her.”

Getting into your laptop is light work for Penelope, and Spencer and JJ go through your social media accounts. Spencer has the passwords to all of your accounts because you’re so forgetful, and you don’t want to put your passwords in your notes just in case you get hacked. One of your friends was hacked a year ago and had all of her information stolen. Plus, why remember when you have a super smart boyfriend to remember for you?

“Look at this, Spence,” JJ says, showing him her phone. It’s one of your DMs on Instagram. “Y/NSBOY_69 has sent her multiple messages talking about how beautiful she is and how he’d love to meet up with her. She never accepted the request, so all of them are left unanswered, but it looks like she has a fanboy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Spencer’s brow furrows as he reads through your TikTok, Facebook, Snapchat, and Twitter messages. The ones that aren’t from friends and family are from fans who seem to have some sort of obsession with you. None are as bad as Y/NSBOY_69. He has liked every picture you have posted, commented multiple times on them, and has messaged you asking when you two are going to get together.

“This guy is seriously all the way creepy,” Penelope says. “I have messages asking her to carry his babies.”

Anger flares up in Spencer’s chest, but he tries not to let it show. He’s usually a calm person when it comes to you. He knows you get messages from obsessed fans, but he never knew it could get this bad. Sure, he’s seen what obsession looks like, but it’s different when it happens to someone he knows.

“I can’t wait for Rossi and Matt to finish up at her house. I know this guy is the one who attacked her. How, I’m not sure. Maybe he followed her home and forced his way in.” Realization passes over his face. “What if she let him in?”

“I highly doubt that,” JJ scoffs. Just then, the others come back from the crime scene. “Find out anything?”

“One of the neighbors noticed something as she was out walking her dog. She was on her way out when she noticed someone tall and lanky sneaking around her house, looking into her windows. When she came back, the door was wide open. Y/N was already gone.”

“So, he was stalking her. You should see her social media accounts. Tons of comments and messages from a single account that I’m sure Penelope is looking through.”

Spencer frowns in thought. He never knew the kind of behavior you’d see daily. You keep a good front for someone who knows there is a stalker out there obsessed with you.

“You bet your ass I am,” Penelope says. “This guy is not trying to hide at all. He doesn’t even have safety measures to prevent someone like me from getting through. His name is Charlie Jones. His address and work have been sent to your PDAs.”

The team splits into two with one half going to his work and the other half to his home. Luke kicks in his front door, and Spencer and JJ follow him inside with guns raised. It’s a two-bedroom apartment, so the team quickly clears it. Charlie isn’t here. However, it’s not a total bust. In a bedroom, the walls are covered with pictures of you. Not just the pictures you’ve posted online or you in ads. Pictures of you out and about. Some even with Spencer in them. His face is crossed off in every single one of them.

This isn’t just an obsession. This is something else entirely.

Spencer takes out his phone and calls Rossi before connecting him to a call with Penelope. “He’s not at his house.”

“He’s not at work, either. Turns out, he’d been fired a few months ago for bad behavior,” Matt informs.

“We found something at his house. One of the bedrooms has pictures of Y/N in it. He was completely infatuated with her. Pictures of her going about her normal life. Garcia, is there anything else you can dig up on this guy? Another property he might own?”

“He doesn't have any other property in his name. However, his parents do. They work in Asia, but they do have a farmhouse they bought several years ago. I guess they wanted to try their hand at farmlife, but it never stuck. It looks like the place is abandoned.”

“I bet he took her there,” Spencer says.

“Address already sent. Please be careful.”

When the strange man broke into your home, you fought hard. You fucked up your house trying to get away from him. You even managed to cut him with one of the kitchen knives. Still, he came prepared and managed to trap you inside your bathroom. He stuck a syringe in your neck and injected you with something that caused you to pass out.

You woke up in this farmhouse to him crying over you, apologizing for hurting you. He smothered your face with wet kisses, and you did your best not to vomit. All he wants is to be with you. He created this fake life with you in his head, and now he wants it to become reality. Besides injecting you, he hasn’t hurt you.

Maybe it’s because you’ve been complying knowing you have to save your energy for escaping. As soon as an opportunity presents itself, you’re taking that one-way ticket out of here. If Spencer didn’t know you were missing when he attacked, he surely does now. He and his team are going to find you.

You just have to stay alive long enough for them to save you.

“How is your neck?” he asks.

“Good. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” you lie.

It hurts like a bitch since he wiggled the needle in you to make sure it stuck. The last thing you’re going to do is tell him that.

“I’m sorry, baby. I had to do that. You were fighting me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He reaches up and touches your cheek. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you lean in hesitantly. “Never be sorry. You’re too perfect to apologize for anything. Now, go get the food you cooked.”

You eagerly leave his side to grab the food you’ve been cooking for the past hour. You sit across from him and push your food around. You lost your appetite long ago, but Charlie scarfs his food down as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

“Am I ever going to go home, Charlie?”

“You are home. This is our home now. Y/n, it’ll be perfect. I’ll fix up the house and make it perfect for you. You’ll be here with the kids, and I can tend to the farm with all kinds of animals.”

“Kids?” you squeak.

“Four of them. I’ve always wanted a big family,” he grins.

Oh, hell no. You don’t care if this will kill you. You need to get out of here now. The front door doesn’t seem to have a lock on it. He must be so confident that you’d want to stay here with him that he doesn’t care to lock the front door. Or, maybe it is. Either way, you have to get out of here.

“I’ve made dessert. Are you ready for that?”

“You are the dessert, my love.” Like fuck are you going to let him touch you, but you don’t tell him that. “But yes. I’d love some.”

You get up from the table and walk into the kitchen, his back still turned to you. There are no knives around, so you grab the pan you used to cook. You grip the handle tightly and sneak over to Charlie on light feet. Without thinking, you swing the pan across Charlie’s head, gasping when he is tossed onto the floor from the impact. You drop the pan in shock before your fight-or-flight response kicks in.

You jump over Charlie and run to the front door, yanking it open. Thank fuck it’s not locked. There is a car pulling up to the farm, and you scream for help.

“Help me!” You cry out in pain when Charlie grabs your hair tightly. He yanks you away from the door and slams it shut. “Let go of me, you psycho!”

The front door is kicked in, and the FBI swarms in with guns raised. Charlie puts you in front of him and presses the sharp tip of a knife to your throat. Where the hell did he get that from?

“Charlie Jones! Drop the knife,” Emily demands.

Your eyes immediately find Spencer’s, and you know you’re going to be okay. Even if he stabs you. Spencer is here. He always takes care of you.

“I’m not going to do that. You don’t understand. We were meant to be together!”

“Look at her, man,” Luke says, “you’re scaring her. Do you really want to do that to the woman you love?”

“She’s scared because you’re pointing your guns at her!”

“Okay, I’m putting my gun away,” Spencer says as he steps forward. No one else does, but Charlie isn’t focused on them. “I know you love her. I saw your wall. You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“You took her away from me,” Charlie growls.

“You can have her.” You try not to be hurt knowing he is just trying to talk him down. Spencer is just saying anything to get Charlie away from you. “If you care about her, Charlie, if you want a life with her, then you’ll let her go. She can’t give you children if she’s hurt or dead.”

“She was always meant to be with me.”

“I know. I just need to know she won’t get hurt. I care about her, too, but I know you love her. Just let her go, and you two can go back to your life here.”

The hesitation on Charlie’s part is all Emily needs to take the shot. He loosens his grip on you, and you duck just in time for Emily to shoot Charlie in the head. You immediately run into Spencer’s arms, and he holds you tightly as the others make a quick sweep of the place.

“You’re safe, Y/N. I’m sorry for saying those things.”

“No, you saved me.” You lean up and kiss him. “I love you.”

The paramedics come to check you out, and Spencer is by your side the whole time. The rest of his team is standing by their cars, whispering to each other. It’s out now. Everyone knows Spencer is dating the hot model.

“Spencer, I think they know now,” you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll introduce you.”

Charlie injected you with a local anesthetic to knock you out, so you’ll feel much better in the morning. You’re good to go. Spencer walks you over to the group, and he sees that JJ is on FaceTime with Penelope.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

“Hi, I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you smile.

“Funny. We never heard a thing about you.”

“My fault. I know.”

“I’d love to get to know all of you. Maybe next week we can all have lunch at my place. You know, after I get it all cleaned up.”

“Are you okay? He better not have hurt you. I’ll beat his ass in the afterlife,” Penelope says protectively.

“No, not much. He just had me make him dinner. He kissed me. It was gross.” You lean into Spencer. “I’m okay now.”

It’s nice to finally be able to talk to the people he calls his second family. There will always be people like Charlie out there who want to hurt you, but you know you’ll be okay with a whole team of FBI agents behind you.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst

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qinchez · 5 months ago

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we don’t talk enough about how grassland romance is the equivalent to the shared dream sylus and mc had in the myth. all they’ve craved in the past is a place where they can simply exist and love each other freely. a place where they can share the domesticity of being a couple and learn how to love, and one where said love wouldn’t be shunned upon. one where they’re exchanging the softest of kisses in endless fields of daturas without a worry because his beloved isn’t cursed to be his arch nemesis. even if it was a dream, deep inside, it was something they both wanted, and cherished for the rest of their lives.

sylus, the leader of onychinus, was so ready to leave everything behind, including his extravagant lifestyle in order to be with mc, without as much as a second thought. “i can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as i’m willing … but, now i have a condition. if you’re not there, then i’m not interested.” “i told you, i’m not interested adapting to a place if you’re not there” …. something about the verbal confirmation that comes so easy to him that’s extremely comforting. home is simply wherever she is and it’s more because the person than the place. grassland romance is the turning point of their relationship and it’s shown in the gentleness and softness that’s freely exchanged between them. the way he learns the native language so he has plenty of ways to express his feelings to her and the way he is so happy to not only introduce her as his lover, but show it through sincere actions.

#guys im so sorry but it had to be said .#i will always lead the sylus loverboy agenda idc idc that’s the most loverboy coded guy ever omg #he loves her sm i just know he smiles a bit everytime a parallel occurs but they’re way happier in this life time #⋆˚࿔ bea writes .ᐟ₊⊹#love and deepspace #sylus #qin che #love and deepspace sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #l&ds #l&ds sylus

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months ago

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Unconditional

cw: reader feels unlovable from past experiences, fluff, angst, crying, past relationships mentioned, James is sweetheart

divider by @/uzmacchiato

You can’t think of a single better thing to do than go on a date with James, but he scares you.

Not in a ‘I fear for my life,’ kind of way, but a ‘how can you like me so much?’ way.

You and James have been going steady for six months, you’ve had fun in all six months but James is going to ask you officially now and that terrifies you.

You know he is because you’d told him you want at least six months to get to know one another first.

James doesn’t know you, he can’t know you and still like you.

That’s what you keep telling yourself anyway.

You’re also thinking about ways to talk yourself out of tonight’s date.

Your skin itches with the anxiety of it.

James doesn’t deserve a last minute cancellation, but if you call now just hearing his voice will make your entire plan fall through.

You’re not perfect like James is. You’ve got a lot going on. You also think something’s wrong with you.

There’s an undeniable truth that you can’t be loved. It’s a proven thing, people like leaving you but only after they’ve wiggled their way so deep you feel them in your bones.

Extracting that kind of affection hurts like nothing else, but you’ve sort of become an expert.

It’s set the idea that you can’t be loved in stone, you can feel it, you can give the love, but receiving it? No dice

Another undeniable truth is that if you had to do it with James, extract whatever affection you had for him when he decides that he can’t keep pretending, it would crush you.

It’s better done early than late. It would hurt less.

You sigh loudly, flopping down on your bed as you rethink your plan. You’ve got to get everything right, James has shut down your last attempt to get him rid of you. You need to be particular about it.

Just as you finally muscle up the courage to cancel, James calls.

“Hi James.” You fight for your voice to remain neutral.

It doesn’t work because James says, “What’s wrong, angel girl?”

Your heart clenches. He’s so nice, you’re gonna lose your nerve.

“I have bad news.”

“Is everything alright?” You sigh long and hard. You can do hard things. Get it done sooner than later, you coach yourself.

“Can we rain check tonight?”

James knows what you’re doing. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to come over?”

“No Jamie, m’not hurt. I just,” you take a breath. “I just want a break.”

You cringe as the words come out, you can tell James is hurt when he says nothing for a little while.

“A break from me?” You rub your forehead, this was not how you wanted this to go.

You might as well rip the bandaid off.

“No, I know what you’re gonna ask me tonight and I don’t think that’s the right idea.”

You hear things moving around in the background of James’ apartment.

You’ve tried this before, you’ve tried pushing James away before.

He hasn’t let you on your last attempt, and you tried so hard.

You’re saving him from the realization that you’re right. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Why don’t you think so, angel?” You hear his engine turn over and frown.

“James, I’ve told you before. I’ve got too much wrong.”

You can’t see him but you know James is shaking his head by how his voice comes through the phone.

“That’s not true. I’m not letting you push me away. I told you last time, remember?”

You do remember. James had caught you on a bad day.

You’d had a fight with your brothers, they’d said some hurtful things and brought up some worse than hurtful events.

Then you’d gone to work and had an even worse day and James had just wanted to see you. He was so nice, he’d shown up outside your office with flowers and an iced tea and the cutest smile on his face and you’d just seen how much of a dark cloud you were.

You remember nearly yelling at him to leave you alone and then you’d broken down crying when he just hugged you instead.

James had let you cry and when you were finished, he carried you to the ice cream parlor near your house for a waffle cone.

He’d told you then, “You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be you. You can’t show me any part of you that I won’t like, you won’t push me away, angel girl.”

Now, you feel something hot in your chest, a knife of hot shame. Shame over the fact that you’ve tricked James into loving you.

“James, you’re going to leave eventually, everyone does. Can’t we just skip to that part and save us both the heartache?”

Your breath catches as you imagine having James see you the way everyone else does- unloveable. God even the thought pushes pressure on your chest and makes it hard to breathe.

“I’ve got heartache right now, darling.”

You sniffle just as a knock sounds on your door. “Did you drive here?”

You hang up when you take a peek through your curtains and see James getting out of his car.

The pressure on your chest crawls all the way up your throat, and there’s a pit in your stomach. If James decides to give up on you to your face you might actually throw up.

When you open the door, James’ frown intensifies. “Poor girl,” he tugs you into his chest, his palm cupping the back of your head. “You’re not unlovable.”

He says it so resolutely that you shudder as a sob rips through you.

James doesn’t know what any of your previous relationships, platonic or romantic, have looked like, but if you’ve gotten yourself this worked up because you want to leave James before he can leave you, he can only imagine how horrible they’ve been.

He doesn’t like imagining them for long. There’s an unmistakable rage that surges through him towards the people that have hurt you this badly.

“You’re not,” he whispers when you hiccup. “I don’t care what anyone else has said to you. I’ve been obsessed with you from the moment I met you. You and your massive heart.”

James doesn’t say much else until you’ve calmed down. Now you’re on your sofa, head in James’ lap as he rubs your chest.

“You really think that? That I’m not unlovable?”

The question is so small, whispered into the breeze that passes through but it still guts James.

“I know we’ve only been going steady for a few months, but falling in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Fresh tears weigh on your lash line. “James.”

He shakes his head and maneuvers you so you’re sitting up and facing him, your chin held gently between his thumb and forefinger.

“Falling in love with you is as easy as breathing for me. I know other people have said some messed up shit to you about how you’re hard to love, but they’re wrong.” He takes a breath.

“You’re not too much, too loud, or difficult to love. You’re perfect, exactly as you are. And I do love you, even if it’s too early to say that.”

James has never been this stern with you, and even in his sternness, his words are all honey coated.

Your breath shudders as you inhale. “M’sorry for trying to push you away again.”

James frowns, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You can’t just change how they’ve made you see yourself overnight, sweet girl. I just,” he exhales, James really hates what they’ve made you think of yourself.

“Next time you feel that nagging feeling coming on, tell me? We can talk it through and I can remind you how much I love you, yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah Jamie.”

James tucks you into his chest, his strong arms around you like he can protect you from everything. Slowly, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that he might be able to.

“From now on,” James whispers, “Only I can tell you about what it’s like to love you.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Maybe we can build up to that.”

James smiles, squeezing you a little closer. “Wanna go get ice cream? Reckon the shopkeepers have missed us.”

You laugh loudly this time, “Can I get a double scoop this time?”

James nods, “Share a milkshake with me and I can make it a triple scoop.”

It becomes a tradition after that, when you’re feeling like you’re not worthy of his love, because years of those thoughts don’t just go away in six months- but you’re hoping over time they’re gone, James and you talk about it and then go to the parlor to share a milkshake and have ice cream.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter x reader #james potter x black reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

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theorphicangel · 7 months ago

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sick of you | sukuna x reader

cw: gn! reader, sick! reader, reader has a cold and sukuna looks after them! soft sukuna, fluffy, modern au!, modern! sukuna, established relationship

“I told you to wear a thicker jacket last night.”

“No you didn’t! I didn’t go out last night.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “Alright, whenever we went out then…that was like what? Two days ago?”

In response to Sukuna’s question you let out a chesty cough, your whole body vibrating as you expel your illness out into the open. It takes all of Sukuna not to turn away from you in disgust and face his body away from you entirely.

You let out a groan. Everything hurts. Your head, throat, chest, arms and back. All you can do is waste away on the couch all day whilst Sukuna hand feeds you chicken vegetable soup and forces medicine down your throat.

This is the most attentive you have seen him in your relationship. He claims it’s the fact that he hates sick people but you have a gut feeling, deep down, that he’s worried about you.

Of course he never says it aloud but it’s shown.

His concern is shown in the way that he takes your temperature, twice every hour even if you’re asleep just to keep an eye on you. It’s shown in the way that he grabs all the pillows and plushies that you need from your room despite his grumbling about it. It’s shown in the way he argues with you that you need to eat and drink water, almost drowning you with a full cup of cold water. It’s shown in the way he hovers, keeping an eye on you, not wanting to stay out to do grocery shopping for too long or keeping his bedroom door open just in case.

When you’re fast asleep, his fingers are pressed close to your forehead judging your temperature himself, wary of the thermometer. He sits by you, watching your chest rise and fall.

He cares enough to sit by you and binge watch your favourite tv show for the fifteenth time. He claims he’s not watching but somehow gets hooked on by a few scenes.

“Why would she do that? She’s dumb.”

“I thought you weren’t watching.”

He ignores you.

Or even when he steals your snack he uses your illness against you, chewing on your popcorn.

“Rest, you’re not allowed to speak.”

Sure. He can be a dickhead. But as soon as you don’t feel like your usual self and an illness creeps up on you, best believe Sukuna will be the first to take care of you. (even if he hates to admit it)

“You take care of me so well, ‘kuna.” you admit to him. It comes out as a mumble, sleep catching up to you once again after you have your dinner. (which is chicken soup again)

He rolls his eyes, “Duh. Can’t have you dying on me.”

“What if you get sick?”

He scoffs, his arms outstretched on the back of the couch. “As if I ever get sick, my immune system is strong as fuck.”

…

You successfully manage to use his words against him the following week when you find him curled up in bed, blanket reaching his lips as his sneezes and coughs echo in the room.

#angel writes #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk

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svetamillss · 5 months ago

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Headcanons: their main fear in the relationship with you🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Soon I will try to deal with your orders! Also soon I will write headcanons about the alphabet with characters!

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

The girl is very afraid that you will leave her for another, because she is not good enough for you. She tried to be feminine: she made beautiful hairstyles, cute makeup, dressed up in good and classic clothes, sometimes even allowed herself skirts and dresses, used good perfumes. But despite this, she still felt like a man, because she didn't make a full transition. She still had a male voice, an Adam's apple, light stubble on her face, but most importantly, she still had a dick. She wanted to finish everything faster, but there not enough money and Ju had to put up with it.

You always told her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world and you don't care that she hasn't changed into a girl yet, she believes you, she cries hearing these words. But she is still afraid that the worst thing may happen to her and you will constantly prove the opposite.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy told you that after the service he developed PTSD. You accepted it and said that everything was fine, that he was a great guy, that he continued to be strong and brave.

But the guy has a new fear. He fears that he won't be able to protect you because of his disorder.

Dae Ho is afraid that someday you will get bored that he sometimes behaves like a cowardly child and leave him.

He knows that you are not like that, he knows that you love him very much, but there is fear and he tries to fight it.

Kang Sae Byeok

You are a very nice and romantic person. You have always shown a lot of attention and love for your girlfriend, shower her with compliments, give gifts and much more.

Sae Byeok is very pleased, she likes that you are trying for her.

But she has a problem. A girl doesn't know how to give attention and love like you. She's used to being cold-blooded and distant, Sae doesn't even treat her brother too kindly.

She's ashamed of it. She is afraid that you will get tired of her cold and go to the one who can give you all the love and attention.

Sae Byeok tries, she tries very hard and you see it, what she does is very valuable to you.

Someday the girl will be able to cope with her cold to the end.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and your boyfriend have been dating for about three years. You survived both ups and downs, but you always stayed close to each other.

You tried to help the guy cope with his addiction.

He tried to quit permanently, but constantly returned to the state when he could not recognize anyone but you (yes, even in a terrible state, he can recognize you).

Sometimes you have your hands dropped and you quarrel with a guy, saying that you will leave him, because you want a normal life, you want a wedding and children in the future, but you can't, because it's very difficult to build it with such a person.

Su Bong understands this, he is very ashamed, he promises to leave, but always breaks these promises.

He's afraid that you'll fulfill your threat and leave him, he even cries because of all this when he's left alone.

Nam Gyu

The biggest fear is betrayal. He was betrayed, humiliated and insulted many times. He was considered a litter because he was friends with influential people, especially because of his friendship with Thanos.

He doesn't want you to be the same, he doesn't want to know that you use him and his trust for your own benefit.

He is also afraid that Thanos will take you away, because according to Gyu he is much better.

But you always prove the opposite, you say that you don't need anyone but Gyu, that you love only him and he is the best person in your life.

He believes you, but he still has fear.

🤍🤍🤍

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illbegottenfaith · 6 months ago

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walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

Part 2

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst

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