#and i know he made mistakes and to me - in the end his made his decisions for his mental health and i hope he is doing good

[always-just-red]

Super self-indulgent addition to the poly series for my birthday!!! (Works as a standalone fic!) If you see this today you have to reblog, as a gift to me! And this fandom 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ *gets struck by lightning for my hubris*

Breaking Point

L&DS Boys X Reader

(No Caleb yet! I'm not confident in writing him and I wanna make sure I do it right! He'll be joining this series later though, for sure for sure...)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 / ?

Summary: I can't spoil the plot because it's a surprise but just trust me, ok? Look into my eyes! Right here! 👁️👁️ You want to read this. You really do.

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, platonic-ish! poly, some flirting, swearing, all the guys come with health warnings in this because like I said, it's self-indulgent! (I'm giving me everything I want 😌)

| Word count: 4.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You only have one life, and it’s Sylus’s to take.

He’s stalled. Denied himself the pleasure of snuffing it out, like he was always supposed to. You thought it was sentiment: a fondness that saw him shoot you with nothing more deadly than a wink or a smile, not that those weren’t their own, trivial little murder attempts. Now, he wants something permanent. Something that’ll stick.

His gun is pressed into your back, but you can’t resent him for it. If your gun was at his back, you would have already pulled the trigger.

“It isn’t too late to stop this, Sylus,” you mutter quietly, because the sentiment is there— no matter how deep he’s buried it. You’ll show it to him, even with raw hands and dirt under your nails.

You try to turn but the gun presses harder, urging you forwards like every other time you’ve attempted to slow or reason with him. “All’s fair in love and war, sweetie,” he says with a smile in his voice, and you wonder which one it is: that slow, nostalgic one, or the one he saves for his enemies. All teeth. All sharp. “You understand, don’t you?”

This is all your fault.

The dark, narrow corridor you’re being paraded down is coming to an end. It opens up into a larger room with abstract furnishings: block-like pillars and walls, lined with spidery strips of neon lights. They glow a weak purple, some flickering eerily. It’s still dark, and there are shadows everywhere.

Sylus swings you under a faint spotlight in the centre of the space. “I know you’re there,” he announces to the darkness, one hand on your shoulder, possessive.

There’s no response from the void. Can he hear something? A baited breath, somewhere out in the shadows, or a heartbeat, tripping over itself on adrenaline? You can’t hear a thing; the silence is too thick. Perhaps he made a mistake. Perhaps—

“What do you want, Sylus?” a voice calls out from behind a pillar— Zayne. By the time you look over, he’s pressed himself back against cover, out of sight, out of range.

“Let’s talk about this, yeah?” Rafayel, from behind a low wall.

Sylus tugs you closer: wraps you in a heavy arm so his gun is in front of you, angled inwards at your heart. He’s always loved a dramatic irony, even if it’s private— just for the two of you. “A Deepspace Hunter for a Deepspace Hunter,” he bargains. “More than fair, wouldn’t you say?”                                                                      

“You don’t have to do this, Xavier!” you shout.

“Ah, ah,” Sylus tuts, his warm breath tickling your ear: “Don’t be a hero, sweetie.”

More silence follows, but you know your fate is being decided in the dark. Amethyst eyes are pleading with peridot. Fire is trying to thaw ice. You can imagine the artist gesturing wildly, mouthing arguments, and the doctor solemnly shaking his head— ever trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

None of it matters, because Xavier is already stepping into the light. Hands up in surrender, weapon stowed at his side. His face is a storm and the flickering neon betrays it like lightning. Look— it warns. Divine violence.

Sylus’s hand tenses, ever so slightly, on your shoulder. You look at Xavier. He looks back at you.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” he says softly, and you’re in the centre of the storm, where it’s safe and it’s quiet and nothing outside can reach you, let alone hurt you. It won’t last, but it exists. You’re glad it exists.

“It’s okay,” you speak on a whisper.

You know how this has to end. Sylus can’t see it. Rafayel and Zayne— both peeking their heads out of cover— can’t see it either, but you? Of course you do. It’s an instinct: Deepspace Hunter to Deepspace Hunter, like Sylus said. Two edges of the same sword.

When Xavier draws his gun at light speed and shoots you with it, you’re the only one not surprised.

“What?” Sylus gasps as red spills over you.

But Xavier doesn’t stop. An onslaught: he fires relentlessly, aim not letting up for a second. His gun flashes over and over again and the sound is harsh on your ears as he closes in, indifferent.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you hear Sylus murmur, and then you’re shoved forwards— limp and useless— into the arms of your attacker.

Xavier catches you, his gun finally falling silent. The air had gone thick for a moment. Time had slowed. Space had twisted. A few, glistening crow feathers waltz around you, and you glance down at your vest. The lights on it have stayed red.

That was your last, stupid life. The digital counter on your gun is stuck at: ‘000’.

“Thanks,” you say to Xavier anyway, because you wouldn’t have struck the floor quite so gracefully as the feathers.

He’s frowning— staring after Sylus— but your voice brings him back to you. He looks down with a devastatingly handsome smile. “You’re welcome.” Then it’s gone. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“Wha—?” is all you manage to get out before you’re flung into another pair of arms. Xavier is running away; you can hear him. You can see him, in the corner of your eye: a pale shadow, giving chase after Sylus. Slipping into the labyrinth of spaceship-like corridors.

“Cutie?” Rafayel’s calling, and it must be his arms around you, squeezing you.

You want to answer— you’re going to answer— but then he drops to his knees, the fall making your head spin. You feel sick. “Cutie?” he tries again, and oh, him shaking you really isn’t helping.

“Raf, please— please stop.”

He doesn’t. “Stay with me, okay?” he urges, the red lights on your gear reflecting in his desperate eyes. He looks up at an encroaching figure. “Zayne! Do something!”

The doctor strides towards you, casting a nonchalant gaze over your body. When he speaks, it’s a bleak prognosis: “Last life?”

“Yep! Sylus already got me once. And before that, Raf—”

“Shhhh shh shh,” the man cradling you hushes, “don’t speak, cutie. Save your strength.”

“Shot me. He was pretending to be a spy,” you finish.

“I wasn’t!”

You huff. “Really? So I was just imagining you posing every time you rounded a corner? The forward rolls, all the spinning around and stuff— that was all in my head?”

“Guess so,” he shrugs. “It’s not my fault you fantasise about me being some kinda action hero, you freak.”

Your face is dark. “Zayne?”

An electronic gunshot rings out, and the lights on Rafayel’s vest flash red. He gapes down at himself, then glowers at Zayne as they return to their normal, lives-to-spare blue. The doctor shrugs guiltlessly, a slight tug at the corner of his lips.

Footsteps approach and your allies react: Rafayel cradling you tighter (definitely not using you as a human shield) and Zayne levelling his gun at a pitch-black corridor. The weapon drops as Xavier stalks out of it, his pace brisk and his presence commanding. “Status?” he asks, checking his Hunter’s Watch pointlessly. It’s a force of habit. You do it, too.

“We’re one hunter down,” says Zayne, his tone equally pragmatic. “Sylus?”

“Could be anywhere.” Xavier toes a crow feather with what you can only describe as disgust.

Okay… Rafayel’s grip is getting a little much, now. You feebly tap at his hand, but he’s too busy glaring up at your team leader to notice. “How could you?” he mutters under his breath, deliberately loud.

Xavier spares him a glance. Then you, finally. “I did what I had to.”

“What you had to?” Rafayel’s voice is dangerous. “What you had to?”

Just as you’re thinking about how touching his loyalty is, he drops you the rest of the way to the floor. You lie there, stunned, staring up at the ceiling. The artist stands, then— yep! Steps over you completely. “You’ve gone too far this time, Xavier! You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies.”

He’s thrashing about in an uncaring ocean. Xavier’s eyes are calm. “Don’t I?”

You didn’t know challenges could be issued so softly. Rafayel stares in disbelief, then looks to Zayne for back-up: are you seeing this?

The doctor is quiet as he diagnoses the situation, trying to find the path of least resistance. There has to be a middle ground. A way to appease fire without burning his hands.

His hazel eyes fall on you, and you get the feeling you’re the answer. He comes to stand over you. Crouches down beside you, head low in respect as he takes your hand and squeezes it gently, like he’s savouring a warmth that’s ebbing away.

“Zayne…?” you breathe. You don’t quite know what’s happening.

He releases a breath too, for your voice is a memory and he’ll treasure it, always. His spare hand lifts to cup your cheek, and he meets your eyes with unequivocal devotion. It isn’t innocent. It’s dark.

“We will avenge you,” he vows.

…

It’s nice, being dead.

You can meander aimlessly. You can hum to yourself recklessly.

You don’t have to poke your head around each corner, giving signals that the coast is clear or unclear because Xavier decided— worryingly early in the game— that it was you who should always go first. Step into the open, maybe even a firing line. Sylus will hesitate, he’d insisted, his hands on your shoulders and his eyes boring into yours intensely. You’re his weakness. Exploit it.

You’d nodded, wide-eyed, unsure of what else to do with someone gripping you like that.

What would Xavier say now, you wonder, if he saw you— Sylus’s infamous weakness— watching the man with a tender smile? His scarlet gaze is distracted. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Well, he has, but he’s pretending he hasn’t. He’s busy: crouched behind a wall, peering over it cautiously.

You saunter over. “What’s the plan here, Mr Lone Wolf?”

“Quiet.”

“Mr One Man Army. Mr ‘I don’t need a team, sweetie, I could beat you all with my hands tied.’”

Sylus gifts you a sideways smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Come on, Sy—” you perch back on the wall he’s using for cover— “death can’t keep us apart. Y’know what that makes me?”  

“Insufferable.”

“Nope. A ghost,” you correct, and the man smiles more widely. It’s still nowhere near enough attention, so you wiggle your arms at him, adding an “ooooooooh!” for good measure.

“You don’t scare me, sweetie.”

Oh really? You study your nails. “You ever think about how if you’d died before you met me, Luke and Kieran would’ve had full creative control of your funeral?”

Sylus’s smile fades the more that image sinks in. “Fine,” he shrugs, “you scare me a little. Now—” he stands to his full height, giving your head a pat— “off to heaven with you, ghost.”

You’re interfering with his mission, you know.

He strides away purposefully, and you can tell he’s enjoying this. The unfair odds. The chance to show off. At last, some enrichment for the wanted criminal who holds your bags while you’re shopping. (Not that he doesn’t enjoy that, too.)

He’s checking over his gun with a customary glance, and the way he moves is addictive; what he’s wearing doesn’t help. A black compression shirt stresses each muscle of his arms and back— the fabric fighting for its life. If you could buy it a drink for its service, you would. You’d buy it ten.

“Yeah…” you exhale, head sideways, gaze low. “I don’t think heaven’s quite where I’m headed.”

Sylus stops.

He turns with a follow-up question, but it never needs to be asked. You’re still shamelessly staring— explaining yourself with faraway eyes and a bottom lip that’s trapped by your teeth. It’s deliberate, of course. Just like you know that shirt was deliberate.

The man’s head tilts in warning. “Careful, sweetie.”

Were his tone a blade he could pin to your throat, he’d know just the right pressure to make your heart stutter. Not too much. Not too little. But he needs to push harder, these days; you’re awfully comfortable at the edge of that knife, and there’s sin in the way you watch him, like you don’t care if you’ll bleed for it.

It pulls him back to you, tantalisingly slowly. A finger lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to his eyes. “I said, careful,” he repeats, making every word drag.

That gaze sinks low again. An act of defiance; it doesn’t quite reach his body. It stops at his lips.

He leans in closer.

There’s a sound somewhere down the corridor, and a gunshot rings out. Sylus’s arms are around you— a swirl of his Evol stealing you both from reality. You rejoin the world a loud heartbeat later, in a different room, far away from the last. Crow feathers tumble. The scarlet mist dissipates.

Sylus’s vest is flashing red, and he looks at you, betrayed, as it turns back to cobalt.

That’s two lives down, one to go; you’d stolen the first when he’d taken you hostage. “All’s fair in love and war, Sylus,” you smile, untangling yourself from his grasp. “You understand, don’t you?”

You go to leave, but his hand is on your wrist. He pulls you back, and it would be much more threatening if he wasn’t chuckling so fondly. “My team next time?” he asks, kissing the very top of your head.

You sidle away, his hand forced to surrender you. “Maybe,” you grin at him over your shoulder. “I’m in pretty high demand.”

…

“Raf, Raf, Raf!” you chirp, skipping over to the lilac-haired artist.

“Cutie, cutie, cutie!” he chirps back. “Afterlife’s fun, huh?”

“Even more fun now you’re here.” He’s sat on a fallen pillar, arms by his side, legs stretched out. His face is lit by the glow of his vest: a faint but vivid red. Like an ember. “My condolences, fishie.”

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Gonna tell me what happened?”

Rafayel rolls his head back— a listless sort of stretch. “Xavier shot me. Said I’m a ‘liability’,” he shrugs.  “That I ‘compromised the integrity of the mission.’”

That was a lot of air quotes. “Pretending to be a spy again?” you hazard.

“Nah.”

Ooh! “A gunslinger!”

He’s still staring at the ceiling, but he sighs dreamily, eyes closing. “You know me so well.”

You take a seat next to him, trying not to giggle at the thought of him strutting about in front of Xavier, tipping an invisible hat while the Hunter slowly raised his gun. Gods, how brutal; you hope it was quick. A tiny laugh breaches your lips, and Rafayel opens an eye in suspicion.

You smile innocently. The eye closes again, satisfied. “You’d make a hot cowboy. Or spy.”

“I know,” he breathes out. That was never up for debate. “Which is hotter, though?”

Hmm… You scooch away from him, making a viewfinder with your fingers so you can squint at him through it. His eyes flicker open and he catches on, flashing a smile as he shoots you with a finger gun. “Spy,” you conclude.

“Noted.” His chuckle is warm and wistful.

“So… got any good intel for me, super spy?”

He hums like he has to think about it. “Xavier’s got some big plan to beat Sylus. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, on account of the whole ‘liability’ thing? But yeah, it’s big.”

“How big can it be? It’s laser tag.”

“I think I can shed some light on that matter.”  

It’s a third voice, and the intrusion makes you jump. Rafayel, too, but he’d never admit it. You both glance outwards, to where Zayne is wandering over to you. His walk is relaxed. His gear is red.  

“That line would’ve been way cooler from Xavier,” Rafayel whispers.

“So cool!” you whisper back. Zayne can clearly hear every word, so you’re quick to deflect with a: “Hey, Zayne! What happened to you?”

You know what happened— there’s an obvious, kinda horrifying pattern emerging— but you still need to hear it. Zayne shifts on his feet, looking down at the ground as he finds the right words. “I… was a liability,” he says at last.

“Oh, nice!” Rafayel’s hand shoots out. “Join the club!”

Zayne stares at it blankly, but gives in eventually. His hand meets the artist’s in the least inspiring high-five you’ve ever seen.

“How were you a liability?” you chase up, because it’s harder to picture your stoic doctor prancing around like a secret agent.

Zayne rests his gun back on his shoulder. “I was trying to be a voice of reason.”

There’s a low, sympathetic whistle from Rafayel. “That’ll do it! There’s no reasoning with those levels of crazy.” He looks at you. Interrupts before you can leap to your partner’s defence: “Like, how invested are you in Sylus?”

What the hell’s that supposed to mean? “… A lot?”

Rafayel winces, drawing air through gritted teeth. “Yikes.”

He’s messing with you. He’s messing with you, right? You look up at Zayne— calm, cool, collected Zayne— your anchor in all this insanity. He meets your gaze, and you wait for that smile of reassurance: the one he always manages, even when you’re bleeding out before him, courtesy of a Wanderer you underestimated. Everything will be fine.

He shakes his head discreetly.  

Everything won’t be fine? Oh.

…

“Sylus!”

You sprint down a corridor, your teammates hot at your heels and your breath ragged from running. This place really is a maze, and it’s not like Sylus wants to be found. No— your red-eyed damsel-in-imminent-distress is still marching around out there, oblivious. Avoiding you? Probably.

That’s when you see it. You skid to a stop, Rafayel almost crashing into you.

Perched on a nearby ledge, Mephisto is watching you, head cocked. His mechanical eyes narrow, and there’s no usual caw of greeting. You’re witnessing a professional at work. A crow on a mission, just like his master. You wander over, looking up at him. Then you snatch him down from his pedestal.  

“Listen to me, Mephie,” you conspire as he squawks and wriggles. “Get Sylus, okay? It’s urgent. We have to speak to him.”

You set the bird free, launching him up into the air so he can take forth your message, but he nosedives to the ground, landing in a sorry-looking heap, instead. The little pile of feathers moves. Seems to find its feet, then… keels over sideways with a final squawk. Huh.

“You killed it,” Rafayel observes from behind you.

“I did not!” You crouch down, giving the frozen crow a poke. “C’mon, stop being dramatic! Get up.”

No reaction. Rafayel sings eerily: “Deaaad…”

You scoop Mephisto into your hands and he melts into them. A wing hangs down, and his head hangs backwards, too. You give him a shake. Nothing happens. Standing up, you turn, “Zay—?”

“I’m not a mechanic.” The doctor’s arms are folded.

But you’re looking at him, hope in your eyes and a faint— absolutely not fake— wobble to your lips, so he takes the crow reluctantly. He lifts the fallen wing. Examines the sharp black feathers and plates of metal. “Is there an off switch you might have pressed?” he ponders aloud. “Or…?”

“It’s at the back of his neck,” a voice that isn’t yours answers.

You’re suddenly clutching feathers; Zayne has shoved Mephisto back into your hands. “I don’t—” you try to resist— “no, don’t give him to—!” You try to hand him back, but Zayne is stepping away.

There’s a presence, looming. “Hey, Sy!” You spin around with a smile.

The man you’ve been searching for stares at you, an eyebrow raised. “Killed Mephisto, did you?”

“Uhhhh, no? It was Rafayel.”

A squeak from behind you: “What!?”

Mercifully, Mephisto springs to life— fluttering away so he can perch on Sylus’s shoulder. He coos, leaning in to nuzzle the finger that lifts to stroke at his beak. Then he caws at you, over and over, like a manic sort of laughter. That stupid bird’s been spending too much time with the twins.

Sylus looks between the three of you, his eyes falling on each red vest in turn. He smiles languidly. “Been playing spy again, little artist?”

“Nope.”

“Cowboy,” the older man guesses again.

Rafayel is silent, his arms crossing defensively. Sylus chuckles, and just as you’re about to scold him, he holsters his weapon with… flair? And tips an invisible hat in the artist’s direction. Rafayel smiles. “How might I be of service?” Sylus asks you, still roleplaying.

Adorable. Focus! “We came to warn you, Sy. Xavier’s—”

“Totally lost it,” Rafayel cuts in. You glare at him and his eyes protest: What!? It’s true!

“We should stick together,” Zayne says. “At least until we can figure out what he’s—”

The lights around you go dead.

No more spotlights, no more stripes of neon; you’re submerged into darkness. The only remaining glow is your vests— three red, one blue— all ominously still. Afraid to move. As your eyes adjust, you can just about make out the others’ faces. Rafayel and Sylus are glancing around, wary, but Zayne’s uneasiness is different.

“Phase one,” he mutters gravely.

You don’t like that. “What’s phase two?”

Please know. Please know. He looks at you. Gives another one of those little head shakes.

At the far end of the corridor, a spotlight flickers to life. You all watch, caught in a spell of suspense as it illuminates nothing— an empty space where you half expect some spectre to be. It goes dark a second later. Then the next spotlight lights up, closer. It goes out. The next one lights. Goes out. Lights.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

“What the fuck?” Rafayel murmurs, standing closer than before. His hand finds yours, and you’re actually grateful. You hold it, tight.

“Stay behind us,” Zayne directs at Sylus.

A much, much closer spotlight turns on.

Xavier stands beneath it, deathly still. Every bit the spectre you’d imagined: you can’t quite tell if he’s of heaven or hell. He might have walked out of either. He might drag you to either. It’s that look again: the one he wore before he killed you. Inevitability. It lives in his gaze. There’s no running from it. No pleading with or changing it.

“Enough,” Sylus growls, pushing past you, raising his gun. He pulls the trigger, and the sound of the shot rings out. Nothing comes of it, though. The weapon doesn’t flash. Xavier’s vest doesn’t flash.

The Hunter tilts his head— another challenge, soft as sleep.

Sylus presses the trigger a second time, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. Though his weapon looks like a gun— pierces the silence like a gun— it isn’t one, is it? It’s a vessel. For infrared light.

Now you think of it, this game was rigged from the start. It must dawn on Sylus, because he stops. He tears the gun from its cord and lets it skitter across the floor, no more useless there than it was in his hands. Energy crackles around his fingers, thick like sticky, red blood.

“Sylus,” Zayne warns, but there are tentative snowflakes at his fingertips, too.

Xavier steps closer, mirroring Sylus— throwing his gun aside with a crash. A delicate twist of his hands and a blade is unsheathed from the darkness. Pure light, holy and sharp. He spins the sword with a practiced elegance and it’s admittedly mesmerising. You can’t not watch.

Rafayel wriggles his fingers free of yours, then steps in front of you. You’d never tell him, but his hand had started to burn.

You hadn’t missed this— this tension. So full of tempered things, meant to hurt.

White light floods everything, everywhere, and you have to shield your face with your hands. The others are doing the same, groaning, hissing curses; even Xavier is wincing as he stares at the ceiling.

This isn’t his doing. Isn’t his light.

…

“Who needs that place?” Rafayel grumbles, plucking a fry up from Xavier’s plate and poking it past his lips so he can chew on it with his thoughts. “I mean, I’ve got a private island!”

“And I’ve got guns,” Sylus smiles.

You look up. “Laser tag guns?”

He blinks at you. Nods agreeably: “Sure, sweetie.”

“I’m sure we can buy some.” Zayne is stirring a chocolate milkshake, and he stoops to take a sip.

The four of you are huddled around a table outside a fast-food place, conveniently next door to the laser tag place you’ve just been kicked out of. There’s a board in there, now graced with colourful mugshots of you all, and not everyone looks miserable in them. Sylus is smirking in his, an old hand at notoriety. Rafayel is winking, making finger hearts.

Xavier is still inside, arguing your case with the manager— appealing the whole ‘lifetime bans’ thing— and his food is getting cold. You slap away Rafayel’s hand as it goes in for another fry.

“You’ve got your own, Raf!”

“So?” His hand is quicker this time, dodging yours and whisking three fries away from their friends before you can stop him. “They taste better stolen. Everyone knows that.”

Sylus hums in accordance as he steals a fry for himself. Vultures.

They all nibble away at their food— sometimes Xavier’s food— and you know you’re all thinking about the same thing. That corridor, those flickering spotlights, and the Hunter commanding them. You’ve not really talked about it, yet.

“Y’know,” you muse, “I’ve never seen Xavier like that before. Don’t you think it was kinda…?”

Rafayel bonks your head with a rolled-up menu. “Stop.”

Zayne snatches it from him gently. Flattens it out again and sets it neatly down on the table. “He is right though,” he sighs. “Stop.”

You giggle. “Hear me out, though—”

“Ah! There you are!”

Two figures approach your table, and the voice is very familiar. Twenty minutes ago, it was yelling at you.

It’s the manager of the laser tag place, and he stands before you, hands on his hips and a smile on his wizened face. “I’m glad I found you,” he continues, “your friend and I have just been talking. He explained everything. Who’d have thought, huh? An invisible Wanderer, messing with the lights like that! Destroying my equipment! Anyway, it was so kind of you to get rid of it.”

He pats Xavier’s shoulder, praises: “What a nice young man!”

“It was our pleasure, sir.” Xavier tips his head in respect as Sylus sniggers.

The manager’s too enamoured to notice. “Anyway,” he turns to the rest of you, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. It goes without saying that you are welcome back, anytime! My treat, of course!”

You all glance between each-other as Xavier thanks the man for his kindness, then waves him goodbye with a genuine warmth. The manager trundles away, leaving your little banquet in peace.

Xavier smiles so fondly, his gaze an azure sky. There’s not a cloud in it, just a bright, radiant sun.

Your budding support group is speechless.

“So,” Xavier beams at you all, “who wants to go again?”

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (13)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 5k wc. please note that the last few sy chapters will be shorter than usual. but on another note, thank you for the kind comforting words on my last post. i’m very grateful for all of you.

series masterlist -> episode fourteen

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice breaking as you watched the faint tears that slipped from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

He should’ve known why. He should’ve seen it coming—should’ve expected the next words that would come out of your mouth after announcing your pregnancy. 

Yet the admission, as firm as it sounded, still tore at your chest. And the silence that followed felt deafening. His gaze flickered to your stomach, then back to your face, searching for something—understanding, hope, or maybe a way to convince you otherwise. He also seemed to be struggling with the intense contradiction of his emotions, whether to celebrate your pregnancy or whether to be horrified by it. 

That was why Satoru took a shaky breath as he reached out a hand. “Y/N,” he began, stepping closer to you, “Don’t say that. We… We can figure this out. Together. Please.” 

Your whole body trembled at the irony of ending your own life soon as you announced the beginning of another. But at the moment, it felt right. That jumping into the vast space beyond you was the best choice—for him, for Sachiro, for the baby, and for yourself. 

But seeing the father of your children at the verge of breaking down was shaking your resolve. All the guilt, the shame. You felt it all at once. 

Satoru’s hands tightened around yours the moment he was able to reach you. And before you knew it, you were being pulled down, falling straight into him as he caught you perfectly in his arms. Like you were always meant to be there. “Y/N, please…” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks, ocean-blue eyes swimming with desperation. “I got you. Don’t do this. Don’t give up on this baby. Don’t give up on us.”

“I can’t, Satoru,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t bring a child into this mess. What kind of life could I possibly give them? What kind of life could we give them? I don’t even deserve to live.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. Having you here with me right now is already the greatest blessing in my life,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as if afraid you’d slip further away. “I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll… I’ll be a good father. I know I’ve made mistakes, Y/N. I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But this—this is something I can do right. Let me prove it to you.”

You turned your face away, sobbing quietly. No, Satoru. It’s too late. You had heard of these same promises before, and only a fool would let herself believe it twice. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Please, just look at me. I love you. I love this baby. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care how hard it gets—I’ll be here. I’ll stay. I’ll be the man you need me to be. And the man that I should’ve always been.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, never once allowing you to breathe or call for his name. You were stuck underwater, fighting the strong current of emotions. Time and time again, and only Satoru Gojou was able to make you feel like this. 

“I swear on everything, Y/N,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. I’ll fight for you, Sachi, and this baby every single day. Just… don’t make this decision now. Not like this.”

The vulnerability in his eyes and the sheer rawness of his plea made your heart ache. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the Satoru you had once loved—the man who would have moved mountains for the woman he had vowed to cherish. The man who pulled everything he can just to bring happiness to the woman he adored. 

Your chest tightened as the weight of your decision pressed down on you, and a shiver ran through your body as if you could feel your baby’s heartbeat. “Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the fragile thread of your emotions. “I’m…”

Before you could finish, the flood of guilt, sorrow, and exhaustion eventually overtook you. And his glistening blue eyes were the last thing you saw before the world blurred and you surrendered to the darkness.

— —

Satoru stood just outside the hospital room, leaning against the cold, white wall with his face buried in his hands. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were nothing but a chaotic mess. He had almost lost you—again. This time, in a way he hadn’t even anticipated.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and when he looked up, it was your older sister, Gen, who was walking toward him, her face a mix of concern and restrained anger. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and clearly displeased with his presence. 

“She’s resting,” Gen informed him, her voice steady but sharp. “The doctor says she needs time. Physically, she’ll be fine, but mentally? I don’t know.”

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening. “I—I’m sorry, Gen. For everything.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “I know I’ve been the worst. Back then, now… I never meant to hurt her.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she replied in a haste and brutally honest manner. “First, my nephew, and now, my sister? Both of them were hospitalized because of you. All you do is bring in a series of bad luck to our family. Have some shame.” 

He knew she was right, and he was ashamed. But despite the hurtful truth, he accepted it all. He was a martyr ready to take all the pain away, if it meant taking it from you and your children. “I know I messed up, Gen. And I don’t deserve another chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love her. That I will love her until the day I die.” His eyes pooled with genuine tears. “I just want to be here for her. She’s my life.”

Gen sighed, her arms falling to her sides. “Satoru, you say you love her. You say you care about her. But look where we are. She’s always been the one paying the price for your mistakes. Always getting the short end of the stick.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes narrowed. ���And now? There’s a rumor about her because of you. Do you even know what that’s doing to her?”

He clenched his fists, his head hanging low. “I know. I saw it. I—I’m already drafting a statement. It’ll be released soon. I’ll clear her name, Gen. I’ll take full responsibility. I won’t let anyone drag her through the mud because of me.”

Gen studied him carefully, her expression softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. “Words are one thing, Satoru. Actions are another. She’s given up so much for you. Do you even realize how much of herself she’s lost?”

“I do,” he said, his shaken voice barely audible. “I see it every time I look at her. I see the woman I fell in love with slipping away, and it’s my fault. But I swear to you, Gen, I’ll fix this. I’ll do everything I can to keep her, to keep our family together. I’ll be the man she deserves, the father our kids deserve.”

Gen’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away, her gaze distant. “Love isn’t just words, Satoru. It’s not just showing up when things get hard. It’s being there even when things are mundane, even when she doesn’t need saving. It’s about choosing her, every single day. And you haven’t done that.”

Her words cut deep, but he took them all, letting them sink into his bones. He had been selfish, careless with the one person who mattered the most. And now, he was paying the price.

“But you’re still here.” Gen’s voice eventually softened, as if this situation couldn’t be saved anymore. “And she’s still here. I don’t know why, after everything, my sister still loves you… but she does. I wouldn’t want you for her, frankly. I’d rather she’d be single her entire life than be stuck with you. But I know her stubborn heart all too well. And if you really mean what you say, if you’re truly ready to step up and be the man she deserves, then prove it. You’d better mean that, Satoru. Because if you break her again… I don’t think there’ll be any pieces left to put back together.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the muffled hum of the hospital. And in sincerity, Satoru nodded, tears welling in his eyes. This wasn’t exactly Gen forgiving him, this was her choosing what makes her sister happy. “I love her, Gen. I’ve always loved her. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

——

A dull beeping sound echoed in your ears, steady and rhythmic, as the world around you slowly came back into focus. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your nose, and the soft hum of distant voices murmured through the hospital walls. The fluorescent lights above were too bright, causing you to squint as you tried to take in your surroundings. White sheets, an IV drip, and the unmistakable cold of a hospital bed beneath your fingertips.

You were in the ER.

Memories of the day before hit you all at once—the weight of exhaustion, the way your body had given up on you mid-conversation, and Satoru’s voice calling your name just before everything faded to black.

A gentle warmth enveloped your hand. You turned your head slightly, heart skipping a beat when you saw Satoru sitting beside you. His snow-white hair was disheveled, his usually confident demeanor subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes suggesting how little he had rested.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was relief laced in his tone, but also something heavier. He reached out, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” You swallowed, your throat dry. “How’s my… baby?”

For someone who said she wanted to get rid of her unborn child, your concern put a relief on Satoru’s face. “Baby’s okay,” he admitted, his thumb absently tracing circles on your belly. “You passed out, and they brought you here to monitor you. But you’re okay now. The doctor said you were just exhausted. You’re being discharged soon.”

Your mind was sluggish, still struggling to process everything. But then, the most important thought struck you.

“Sachiro,” you breathed, fear clawing its way up your throat. One after another. “His surgery—”

Satoru squeezed your hand gently, stopping you before your panic could take hold. “It was a success.” His lips curled into a small, tired smile. “While you were resting, everything went well. The doctors said it was a textbook procedure—no complications. He’s stable, recovering in the suite room now.”

“H-He’s okay?” Your voice broke on the last word, and Satoru nodded.

“He’s okay.”

A choked sob left your lips as you covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed. After everything, after all the sleepless nights and the heart-wrenching fear of losing your first born, he had made it through. At his young age, having to suffer such a complicated heart disease was something he didn’t deserve, but truly, he was a strong kid. And for that, you were grateful. 

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding you, anchoring you. “Y/N,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your temple. “Sachi’s strong. He got it from his mommy.”

You let yourself melt into him for a moment, closing your eyes and breathing him in. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you—if anything had changed, if anything ever could. But for now, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that Sachiro was waiting for you.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your arms. “Do you wanna go see him?”

You met his gaze, eyes still shining with unshed tears, and nodded. “Yeah.”

——

Down the pristine white halls, past nurses and doctors bustling about their duties, your feet carried you with a singular purpose while Satoru walked beside you, his pace matching yours.

And then—there.

Room 721.

You hesitated only for a second before pushing the door open, breath catching the moment your eyes landed on Sachiro. Your poor son. Your poor little boy lay in the hospital bed, looking small and fragile against the white sheets. Tubes and wires were attached to him, aside from the steady beeping of the monitors that signaled his heart’s vitals. A ventilator was also there to help him breathe, and his tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm was a sight that both reassured and shattered you at the same time.

“Sachi,” you whispered sweetly, stepping closer. “Mommy’s here, baby.”

Your fingers trembled as you brushed his hair back, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. He was still asleep, sedated for recovery, but his face was peaceful—far more peaceful than the nights you’d spent watching him struggle.

Behind you, Satoru stood motionless. His normally vibrant eyes were dulled with exhaustion, his face gaunt from two days without sleep. Yet, despite it all, he remained standing, his entire being focused on Sachiro.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Your family surrounded you, offering support, love, and quiet reassurances. Nurses came and went, checking on Sachiro’s vitals, updating you on his condition. The visiting hours brought waves of people—friends, colleagues, even some of Satoru’s acquaintances who had come to check on him.

But through it all, Satoru never moved.

While conversations hummed around him, while people embraced and whispered their worries, he remained by Sachiro’s bedside. His hand rested on his son’s small fingers, his thumb occasionally brushing against his skin.

He didn’t speak much. Didn’t react to the noise around him.

He just… watched.

Watched the slow rise and fall of his child’s chest. Watched the way the monitors flickered with steady readings. Watched the way his son fought to live.

And even as the hours stretched, as your family said their goodbyes, as the night deepened and visiting hours ended—Satoru remained.

His exhaustion was evident. The bags under his eyes had darkened, his shoulders heavy with weariness. But when a nurse suggested he get some rest, he merely shook his head.

“I’m not leaving him.”

And so, he stayed.

With red-rimmed eyes and a body begging for sleep, Satoru Gojou sat beside his son, never once looking away.

You could see the torment in his eyes as he looked at Sachiro, the helplessness of a father who could do nothing but watch. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer, so you finally spoke. “Satoru… just go home.”

He froze at the sound of your voice, as if caught off guard, but quickly shook his head and wrapped your belly under a warm blanket. “Did I wake you up?”

“I can look after Sachi by myself,” you urged, disregarding his question. “You need to rest.”

But again, he refused. “No.”

“But—”

You opened your mouth to speak again, to reason with him, but before you could, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, breaking in a way you had never heard before. “Y/N, let me be a father to my kids… Please.” His voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out as he looked at the ceiling with somber, tearful eyes. It was the heartbreak in his voice that made you realize that you were the only family Satoru had left. And it was the tremor in his hands that made you see through the trauma he had developed after he was led to believe for three years that his son had never existed. In a way, you felt responsible for the pain you had caused him, too. “Just please let me love you and our babies. Don’t take them away from me.”

For a moment, silence became your friend. Yet, the quiet that enveloped the room was more of a tender moment suspended in time as you let Satoru embrace you in his arms. You both remained there, connected by the warmth of his hand over yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. He caressed your belly as if you were going to take his baby away—that if he closed his eyes, even for a second, he would wake up to see his unborn child gone. 

But then, a soft knock on the door shattered the stillness.. Satoru’s grip on your hand loosened as the nurse poked her head into the room with an apologetic expression on display.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle, “but you have a visitor.” Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could ask, the nurse continued, “Her name is Ms. Akemi.”

At the mention of her name, he immediately sat up, his body tense as he instinctively prepared to stand. You felt the shift in his demeanor, the way his hand slipped from yours as he moved to the edge of the bed. You stayed still for a minute, processing the sudden change, and your heart sinking at the thought of yet another intrusion by her.

You took a deep breath as you began to pull away, already bracing yourself for what was to come, and for the inevitable exit he would make. Like always. Choosing another woman over you. Choosing another woman over his own child. Of course, that’s what he’s about to do, right? You started to gather the strength to let him go, to retreat back into your thoughts, until the nurse spoke again.

“Oh… Actually,” she said, her eyes flicking between you both, “Miss Akemi wants to see you, Ms. Y/N… not Mr. Gojou.”

——

Two things about this moment caught you off guard. First, Satoru’s sudden overprotectiveness—firmly insisting to the nurse that Akemi had no right to call for you again and that you shouldn’t be meeting her just to “talk.” And second, the fact that Akemi actually wanted to see you.

What was the catch?

What was her motive? 

You wondered if this was going to be another Sera moment. 

And you knew, even if your mind told you that you owed Akemi nothing, you were still curious about what she had to say. Would she demand Satoru’s time that you were taking from her? Or was she about to make a scene and call you a homewrecker? 

Strangely, of all the places, Akemi wanted to meet you at the hospital chapel. 

She was already there when you came, sitting at the last row amongst the empty pews, staring at the altar as if her brown eyes were glued to the massive cross in the center. In her solitude, you silently slipped into the opposite side of the pew, not exchanging any eye-contact until she noticed your presence. 

When she turned, she seemed startled to see you. “Y/N.”

You said nothing, only staring at the cross in front of you.

“I was just…” She trailed off, glancing toward the altar before looking back at you. “I was praying for Sachiro. I heard his surgery was a success.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, but your voice was steady. “It was.”

“I’m glad.” A small, genuine smile plastered over her lips. “I really am. He’s a strong boy… just like his mom.”

A scoff threatened to rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t here to fight. Not anymore. Not when you were far too grateful for Sachiro’s successful operation to still be holding grudges on others. But that didn’t mean you had to fake being happy next to Akemi. All you did was nod in appreciation. 

But Akemi hesitated, then spoke again about what seemed to be her main concern of going here. “Has Satoru been here? I mean… all this time?”

“Yes.” A pause. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her expression, but your rigid expression appeared to have intimidated her. “If you’re here to ask him to go home with you, then—”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You blinked. Of all the things you expected, an apology wasn’t one of them.

“For everything,” she continued. “For being with Satoru even when I knew who you were to him. For pretending I didn’t see the way he looked at you, the way he still loved you. I was selfish. I let my delusions get to me, thinking that he’s exactly who I needed in my life to feel whole again.” She then let out a bitter laugh, one that lacked amusement. “You don’t know this, but I used to envy you. Your life. Your place in his heart. The way you had people around you. The way he loved you… The way you have a beautiful son and an equally beautiful husband. I wanted that for myself. I thought if I tried hard enough, if I gave him everything, if I tried to be like you, maybe he’d love me the same way.” Her voice wavered. “But no matter how much time passed, it always felt like he was looking past me. Like he was imagining someone else by his side. And I knew. I always knew.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the edge of the pew. You weren’t expecting to hear all of those things from her. Not after everything that had happened. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Akemi admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I needed to say this. Because I know you’re not happy that Satoru’s been visiting me, too. At least, until he ended things officially between us. And probably until he learned about your pregnancy… Is it true?”

Your breath hitched, but you remained still.

“The baby’s a blessing, Y/N.” She lifted her chin, meeting your eyes with quiet resignation. “It’s exactly what I had hoped for myself… but I’m sick. I’m critically ill. Stage three endometrial cancer, to be exact.”

For the first time, something shifted in you. Shock. Pity. Confusion. You ended up returning her gaze—her lachrymose brown eyes that seemed to envy your entire being.  

“H-He feels bad for me,” she continued, her voice softer now. “That’s why he’s been coming back and forth. He doesn’t love me—not the way I wanted—but he can’t turn away from someone who’s suffering. That’s who he is.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together, not knowing how to navigate a conversation with the sick friend who betrayed you.

“I don’t expect anything from him anymore. And I don’t expect anything from you, either.” Akemi’s lips curved into a sad smile. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m letting go. Of him. Of the past. Of everything.”

You held your breath back. 

“I hope, one day, you can forgive him. Maybe even me. I know I lost a good friendship because of my bad decisions.”

She turned towards you, reaching for your hand that she soon softly squeezed. In that millisecond, you caught a glimpse of Nanami standing by the door, seemingly waiting for Akemi to finish her last words with you. 

“Take care of him, Y/N. And take care of yourself.”

——

When you returned to the room, Satoru was pacing back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in barely restrained nerves. The second he caught sight of you in the doorway, his shoulders sagged with relief, but his expression remained taut with worry.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, striding toward you in a rush. “What did she say? Was she rude to you? Did she—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Before he could spiral further, you grabbed him by the collar and silenced him with a firm kiss.

For a brief, stunned moment, he stiffened—his breath catching against your lips. Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, hands coming up to cradle your face as if you’d disappear if he let go. His lips moved over yours, not demanding, not desperate—just seeking, just holding.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes still half-lidded with dazed confusion.

“Stop overthinking,” you murmured, fingers gently brushing the nape of his neck.

Satoru swallowed hard, searching your face for answers. “Y/N…”

But a soft noise from the hospital bed cut the moment short. Both your heads snapped toward Sachiro, who was stirring beneath the sheets, and his tiny fingers twitching as his eyelids fluttered open.

Satoru let out a shaky laugh, a watery grin spreading across his face as he rushed to his son’s side. “Hey, Sachi,” he choked out. “You’re awake.”

You moved closer, blinking away the sudden sting in your eyes as Sachiro groggily turned to look at both of you. “My baby…”

“Mama…? Dada…?” His voice was weak, but the way he reached for both of you made your chest ache.

You took his small hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek as Satoru smoothed down his hair, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “We’re here, baby,” you whispered. “We’re right here. How are you feeling, my sunshine?”

The nurses came shortly after, and then his doctor also took a visit. According to him, Sachiro showed good signs of recovery and ordered the medical staff to remove the devices attached to your son one by one as his progress looked promising. Soon enough, with the doctor’s advice, Sachiro could even start his rehab to be able to resume his normal activities. Everything you were hearing were positive outcomes, nothing but good news. You couldn’t help but feel as if things were too good to be true, and wondered if there was anything substantially bigger that’d come and wreck you. 

The father of your child seemed to have noticed the moment you became silent, swallowed by the anxious thought of what was to come, and he came to wrap his arms around you, securing you in his embrace, and rubbing your belly from behind. 

You could see the nurses noticing your little display of affection and so you tried to push Satoru off, but he didn’t budge. He only held you tighter and buried his face into your shoulder. 

“Let me just recharge here for a bit,” he mumbled, as though you were the battery that was giving him energy. “Just let me hold you, please.” 

——

You hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room yet, and the only real chance to do so came the following night, when Sachiro’s nanny took over in the suite. She kept you updated on his condition, while you—following your doctor’s advice—chose to finally get some proper rest at home.

But knowing your family, they’d bombard you with questions about Satoru the moment you walked through the door. Maybe that’s why you agreed to his suggestion—to stay the night at the penthouse. The same home you once shared as husband and wife.

Was it a rash decision? An impulsive one? Maybe exhaustion had driven you here, standing under the warm stream of his shower as he waited outside. It was strange how comforting this place still felt. How familiar, yet mind-warping it was. This was the same home where he had slept with Akemi. How could you feel both at ease and deeply unsettled?

By the time you stepped out, you stood in front of the vanity mirror, drying your hair as your gaze fell to your barely noticeable bump. You weren’t showing just yet, and knew that there was still time to decide. Did you want this baby? Keeping it meant Satoru would be even more tied to you. Letting it go meant sparing it from a toxic environment and the possibility of inheriting your heart condition.

Lost in thought, you barely heard Satoru’s knock before he entered, carrying your old pajamas. Without a word, he helped you into them with quiet care, his touch gentle but respectfully distant. He guided you like a loving husband would to his pregnant wife, up until you were settled under the warm duvet of your old bed, where he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast?” he asked, “Anything you’re craving? Lemon bars? PB&J? I can run to the grocery store now if you want.”

His reminder of your old pregnancy cravings squeezed at your heart. It took you back to the days where you were immensely, unselfishly in love with him. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I’d do anything for you and baby.” 

Maybe this was his way to consume you with guilt, knowing you still haven’t really decided if you wanted to keep the baby, yet here he was doing his everything just to show you how he wanted to care for his youngest. Would you be too cruel to ruin his fantasy?

“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he murmured when he didn’t get any answer. “Call me if you need me.” 

“Wait.” You regretted your words the moment you opened your mouth. “Stay.” 

Because why? Just why did you ask him to stay? Why did you want him beside you? Why did you enjoy his warmth and his presence and his love? This was the same man who wrecked you to shreds, to pieces. How could you betray yourself and still trust him? 

You didn’t need the answer right now, all you needed was Satoru’s gentle gaze, his careful embrace, and the way he caressed your face as he joined you in bed. You could tell he wanted to try for a kiss, but decided not to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. 

“I’m dreaming, am I?” he asked, seemingly musing at the thought. 

You sighed. “I’d hope so.” 

“Y/N.” His voice was soft as he said your name. “I love you.” 

Closing your eyes, you replied, “Give me time.” 

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hello could you write one where the reader is basically buckys kid and they get hurt and try to hide it from him but he notices something is up and it isn’t until it’s really bad he finds out? I know very odd sorry

Didn’t Want To Worry You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to worry Bucky when you tell him you hurt yourself at school, but he somehow finds out.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request @parasitichamster14-blog 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were hoping that your dad wasn’t home yet. You didn’t want him to know that you hurt yourself at school today. In gym class, you guys played basketball and you got knocked down and fell onto your wrist. Now, it won’t stop hurting. You should’ve went to the nurse’s office for an ice pack, but you had a feeling that she was going to call your dad.

You looked around the apartment when you got home from school, wondering if your dad was home or not. You didn’t see him and assumed you were in the clear. Or so you thought. He came home shortly after you did.

“Hey, doll. How was school?” Bucky asks as he hugs you.

“Good.” You replied.

Bucky noticed the way you were holding your left wrist against your stomach. He was hoping that you weren’t getting sick or something.

“Do you have a stomach ache or something?” He asks, referring to the way your wrist was against your stomach.

“No. I hurt myself at school is all.” You say.

“How?” He asks.

“We were playing basketball in gym today and I got knocked down and I fell onto my wrist wrong.” You tell him.

“Be careful next time, kiddo. I don’t want you to end up with a broken wrist or something.” He says.

“I will.” You say.

You went to your bedroom and closed the door behind you, sighing to yourself. You hate that you didn’t tell your dad that your wrist hurts really bad, but you didn’t want to worry him. He’s a worrier when you’re sick or hurt. You took an aspirin for the pain and did your homework. The pain subsided till you were almost done with your Geometry homework.

“Doll?” Bucky knocks on your bedroom door. “Are you finished with your homework? I was thinking that we could go out for dinner.” He says.

“Almost.” You say with a smile.

Bucky nods and smiles, closing your bedroom door so you can finish your homework. Your smile fades away. You winced in pain, holding your wrist. You finished your homework, trying not to let the pain get to you. You put your homework back in your backpack when you were done. Bucky was watching TV when you walked in the living room.

“I’m done with my homework.” You say.

“Where do you want to go eat?” Bucky asks, shutting the TV off.

“What about that diner we like?” You suggested.

“Good choice, kiddo.” He smiles.

On the way to the diner and during dinner, Bucky watched you wince in pain every time you moved your left wrist. It was starting to get worried.

“Are you sure your wrist is ok?” Bucky asks.

“It’s fine, dad. It’s probably going to have a bruise on it tomorrow or something.” You say.

Bucky took that as an answer. He kept his eyes on you. On the way home from the diner, Bucky could tell you were holding back tears due to the pain you have in your left wrist. He pulled over into a random parking lot and put the car in park.

“Show me your wrist.” Bucky says.

“Dad, I’m fine.” You say.

“You’re clearly not. I can tell you’re in pain.” He says.

You stared at your dad for a second before rolling the sleeve of your sweatshirt up. Bucky took a look at your wrist.

“I hate to say it, doll, but I think your wrist might be sprained.” Bucky says.

You whined, your eyes filling with tears.

“You’re going to be fine, doll. Let get you checked out in the emergency room and then we’ll go home, ok?” He says softly.

“Ok.” You almost whispered.

Bucky took you to the emergency room to get your wrist checked out. Your anxiety was through the roof. You didn’t want to be there. Lucky for you, your dad stayed by your side the whole time.

“I want to go home.” You whined.

“We’ll go home in a little bit.” Bucky says softly.

You pouted and slouched in the chair. You sat up straight when the doctor walked in the room.

“Good news is your wrist isn’t broken. Bad news is it’s fractured and you have to wear a wrist brace for a few weeks.” The doctor says.

Bucky felt relieved to hear that you don’t have any broken bones. He is curious to know why you didn’t tell him that your wrist was hurting earlier.

You got a wrist brace and then you finally went home. You were set up in the living room and watching your favorite movie.

“Doll, I want to talk to you for a moment.” Bucky says, sitting down next to you.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked, pausing the movie.

“No. I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were hurt earlier.” He says.

“You worry about me a lot and I didn’t want to worry you.” You say, feeling bad.

“I worry about you, because I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He says softly.

Your eyes teared up. Sometimes you forget how much Bucky cares about you like you’re his own child. That’s why he adopted you shortly after he saved you from HYDRA a few years ago.

“Don’t cry, doll. I’m not mad at you.” Bucky almost whispers, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” You apologized.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I understand.” He says softly.

“Yes I do. Sometimes I forget how much you care about me.” You say, your voice cracking.

“Oh babydoll…” He whispers. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” He whispers again, kissing the top of your head.

Soft sobs slipped past your lips. Bucky held you, his hand rubbing your back to comfort you. Your crying stops after a few minutes.

“I’ll always worry about you, doll. You’re my kid and I love you.” He murmurs softly, kissing the side of your head.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled up at him.

You pressed play, picking up where you left off on the movie. Bucky watched the movie with you. You learned that you shouldn’t hide any kind of injury from your dad.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[geeeemmmmmmm]

"I have waited for this"

Summary:You and Bucky whom you dislike immensely are paired up on a mission and have to share a room with him. Who knows what could happen..

Warnings:Very bland enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, one bed trope(idk I think I wrote it following that trope loosely)

A/N:I know very cliche tropes but I haven't tried them and wanted to give it a shot so expect this to be quite bad aha! As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:2.3K(I got carried away)

Chatter filled the conference room at the tower; Tony was growing more agitated with being ignored by everyone "Hey, Let's focus here we actually have some important things to go over. Can you guys just hear me out for a minute?" he called out in the toughest voice he could muster up. The chatter came to a sudden halt as everyone looked at Tony finally ready to listen as if you all were in a primary school classroom. "Ahem, as we all know Thano's followers, the Black Order have scurried their way here. Bruce and I will be tracking them from here but we need some of you guys to try and keep an eye on them, we don't want to attack just yet." You nodded along processing what Tony had just told you guys before he began on again "We all need to be split up into groups to observe them all. Natasha and Steve, are you two willinging to be on watch duty for Cull Obsidian?". Steve and Natasha happily looked at each other then at Tony to confirm as he nodded back. 

"Y/N and Bucky, you two being the last ones left, can you please observe Proxima Midnight?" that statement from Tony jolted you awake like nothing before. You and Bucky were not friends, barely teammates in your mind. Something about him just rubbed you the wrong way since the day you met him and you kept strong on that feeling and he seemed to match that energy alongside you whether it be calling out snarky comments to each other during training sessions or just pushing past harshly as you walked past each other in the halls. The worst part of this situation is that you can't even ask anyone to switch partners with you because you fell asleep while the others' names were being called. It was a common occurrence for you to doze off and you had been repeatedly told by Steve that if you fall asleep again, there'd be consequences. You thought to yourself that this must be a punishment from last time as you remembered how you snored at the table, in front of everyone and you figured Steve must have got Tony to help him get his payback by pairing you with Bucky. This mission being a serious one you didn't want to be yelled at in-front of everyone, especially Bucky.

Everyone hurried off together chattering as they scurried off to wherever their member of the Black Order is currently, leaving you and Bucky sitting at opposite ends of the table glaring at each other before he snapped "Let's get going then the drive to New Jersey isn't that bad but I don't want traffic" you bit your tongue and just nodded not wanting to ruin this mission even more before it even starts. Quickly you ran to your room to pack your duffle bag, not even sure how much you needed because you fell asleep while that was being covered so you just guessed hoping 3 days worth of clothes and toiletries was enough. 

"Chop chop Barnes" you called out to him irritated that he rushed you while not even being ready himself while you pounded on his door tapping your foot impatiently. "What? I'm here aren't I?" you heard as his door opened swiftly making you take in the sight of Bucky smiling at you trying his best to taunt you just as he swung his bag over his metal arm - you hated how good he looked in that black shirt that somehow hugged everyone of his muscles and made his eyes shine like diamonds. After everyone else left to begin their mission properly, you and Bucky finally embarked on yours. The lift ride down was awkward as you two stood side by side trying to not look at each other "Whose car are we taking?" "Mine, I am the gentleman after all" he sneered back watching you roll your eyes and walk out of the lift the moment those doors opened.

The hour 40 minute drive was... something to say the least. The radio was the only thing in reach to try help the ride there but of course Bucky would make it his mission to make you annoyed, you tried multiple times to turn it on but he just swatted your hand away, not even looking at you while he kept his left arm on the wheel completely unphased. "I'll turn it on only if I pick the station!" he declared trying his hide his amusement at your bland reply of "Didn't know winter soldiers even listen to music" noticing how you shrugged and gazed out the window just happy to get a distraction to keep you from sneaking glances at Bucky's arms. Static suddenly blasted from the stereo "oops guess the station is down, might as well keep it on to see if it comes back" he said nonchalantly just waiting to see your reaction. You managed to stay silent just grimacing as the static pierced your ears. 5 minutes was all you could handle with that horrible noise filling the car "Seriously how can you listen to this noise I can't even handle it with normal hearing how can you do it with super soldier hearing?" you gave in and asked him. Truth be told Bucky hated the static in his ears too, it felt like it was gripping his brain but he just needed an excuse for you to somehow talk to him. "Really? I love this sound! But I suppose I can turn it off since I'm such a nice guy" he said with the cheekiest grin on his face as he looked over at you. You can’t help but laugh about how much charm he has, even to you.

The car doors slammed as you two climbed out almost in sync. Just thankful to be out of Bucky's car you stretched your arms and took in the fresh air. "Guess this is where we are staying" "Guess so." you replied to him carefully reaching for your bag in the trunk before Bucky got his. Since you guys had left later than everyone else and had a slightly longer drive it was about 6:45PM when you arrived to the hotel, you headed into the main office of the small 3 story hotel not expecting to be greeted by a very cheerful receptionist sitting at her desk "How can I be of service today" she said with a bright smile "Just one room with 2 beds for about 3 days please" you told her, still not sure exactly on how long this mission was meant to be. "Oh dear me! We only have one room left with one bed, will that be ok?" she asked, still in that bright tone she started with "Oh uhm yea that should be fine" you sheepishly replied to her not wanting to delay your mission any further for finding a new hotel. You paid and got your room key, you strolled over to Bucky who didn't look too happy as he held his bag in hand waiting outside. "You heard?" Bucky just nodded in reply. 

"I think we are on the second floor" you said while looking at the faded blue paint job that clung weakly to the bricks making up the hotel. "Let's go and get changed then" Bucky said, somehow not being able to come up with some comment to annoy you. The stairs creaked as you and Bucky trudged up even only going up 2 floors.The stairs did not feel the most secure but you just shrugged it off. The key you were given struggled to fit into the lock but it managed as you shoved the door open, taking in the sight of the double bed in the corner of the room with a very little couch in the other. "Hope you didn't have your hopes up for what this room would be" you tried to make light of how awkward the sleeping situation will be. The room was not the most inviting, yes but at least it had a bathroom, a very small one but hey least it had a shower, sink and toilet you thought to yourself as you tried to figure out what that musky smell was that lingered in the hall. 

You splashed some cold water on your face in the bathroom as you stopped and walked out into the room upon hearing Bucky talk on the phone "Yes I'll tell her" he replied then hung up. "Bruce said the tracking system they are using back at home has had an error so it's best we just sit tight tonight and prepare to start tomorrow morning." He told you in a calm tone "Oh ok then, I'll just get changed into my pyjamas then". Shit the only pajamas you brought were 2 pairs of very tiny shorts and a lace tank top, you cursed yourself for not doing your laundry and you vowed to always double check what you have packed from now on. You creeped the bathroom door open peeking out to see if Bucky had changed and he did just into some boxers clearly not caring what he was wearing, he noticed as you softly stepped out trying to stop himself from looking and thinking about how gorgeous you looked. He'd only really seen you in either training gear or just some casual clothes but to be fair he never went out with the other avengers so he hasn't seen you dolled up, not that it mattered he's always found you beautiful. 

"So uhm who's sleeping where?" you asked him looking at the options you had which were the double bed or the ground. "I'll just take the ground" Bucky replied 'Are you sure Buck? I can sleep there I don't mind" you tried to reason with him, you disliked him immensely sure but you weren't a horrible person so of course you volunteered for the worse option. "You have to get your beauty sleep so take the bed" you didn't feel like bickering so you just crawled into bed chucking him a pillow and the blanket which sat on the end of the bed. It was about 7:30PM and you were knackered so you pulled the thin duvet over you."Night" you whispered to Bucky who was trying to get comfy "Night, pretty" he whispered back "That's a new name for me now huh" you responded "What if I mean it?" he teased. A laugh escaped your lips at his reply and how bold it was, even for Bucky as you got comfortable and tried to sleep but if the universe hadn't cursed you enough today, you discovered there was no heater and it was incredibly cold and the duvet provided felt like tissue paper against the cold. After what felt like hours you heard a movement in the room but you just figured it was Bucky in his sleep  so you shut your eyes again and tried to think of anything to help you fall asleep. 

"What's got you tossing and turning? It's keeping me up." Bucky said as he broke the silence in the icy cold room "Just cold" you mumbled as you yet again turned yourself into a ball trying to generate some heat. "Will this help?" he said as you just tried to see what he was doing in the darkness before you felt weight on the bed as it embraced you before you could even react. Bucky had crawled into your bed and pulled you on his chest - no words could even come out of your mouth. 

He had fully stunned you, you managed to speak after what felt like forever "Why are you doing this, I thought you hated me" you questioned him not sure if you should sink into the embrace you'd never thought you'd like or squirm away and end up scaring him away. "One, your cold and you're tossing and turning kept me up, two I've never hated you, in fact I've always thought you hated me so I tried to match your energy but I tried to show that I’ve always liked you" he admitted. 

His arms around your waist loosened as you pulled back to look at him and mustered up the confidence to speak "Buck, I never hated you. I think we just got off on the wrong foot and I never tried to fix that and I’m sorry for being rude and hiding behind hostility but I do want to admit... I have always liked you even if I've hid it behind hostility" it felt so great to get this off your chest and you are pretty sure if you had a chance to admit your crush on Bucky being in his arms would be the best chance you've got.

"Well that's great because I do like you too" he gave you a big cheesy smile even though it was dark in the room you could see his smile shine through the darkness. You went for it, you don't know how you got the courage but you found his lips in the darkness and kissed him trying to capture your love for him in it as he kissed you back with passion as if he was craving this from you. He pulled back first to your surprise and rested his forehead against yours as you two caught your breath again "Do you know how long I've waited for this?" "Patience is a virtue" you giggled while you replied as you cuddled up on his chest again letting the biggest smile sit on your face. A couple minutes of comfortable silence passed "How are you so warm, I was freezing before you climbed in" you questioned. "Super soldier serum I guess" Bucky mumbled back sleepily before saying quickly "Go back to sleep I'm tired" as he nuzzled his face into your hair. "Only because I like you Barnes" you whispered back, hearing a slight chuckle come from him before sleep took him over as soft snores emitted from him.

You finally fell asleep happy in the one man's arms you never thought you'd end up in but this was the one of the best night's you'd had in a while.

A/N:Hope this wasn't too bad of a read, I am always open to feedback because I am still quite unfamiliar with this style of writing and I do want to improve:) FYI I did write this late last night so there's probs some mistakes I missed when rereading it but hope you all enjoyed and thank you for reading <333

[81pastrys]

Ooooo can we get Carlo’s side of the pregnancy scare before he knows Lila’s not pregnant?? And like his experience trying to tell Carlos?

Waiting Game

Part 3 / 3

Summary— Carlo’s POV of Lila’s pregnancy scare and miscarriage

Warnings— mention of the night it happened ; teen pregnancy ; miscarriage

A/N— what a 3 part series

Dad Carlos List ; Dad Lando List

Part 1 ; Part 2

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws

When Lila and Carlo would have sex, it was usually safe, but they were in the moment one night and completely broke their streak of safety. Carlo hadn’t realized until after all the aftershocks wore off.

“Holy shit, cariño.” He exclaimed. He looked at the mess he made and she was still in a dazed state. He knew she wasn’t on any kind of birth control, so this was not a good thing, they’re only teenagers.

“What is it?” She asked, trying to catch her breath. Then she felt it and sat up, eye level with him. “Oh my god, no you didn’t.” She was shocked. She got up, cleaning herself and freaking out. Carlo was right behind her.

“We can go buy you a pill it’s okay!” He said. He calmed her down. He kept his word and bought her the pill, watching her take it.

As soon as he saw Carlos again, he told him. “You did what?” Carlos asked, his demeanor tense. “Was it on purpose?”

“No! No, it was an accident papi, we were in the moment and I usually do use condoms.” Carlo knew he could confide in his father about anything. Carlos was just shocked he actually did.

A few weeks later he got a frantic call from his girlfriend. “Carlo I’m late, like my period, I don’t know what to do!” She was talking faster than he could think. “Daddy is going to kill me.” She whined.

“Hey, hey, don’t think that way, you don’t know for sure yet cariño.” He soothed over the phone. Carlos heard his son comforting her and entered the room. “Listen, we’ll be fine either way, I don’t want you to worry.” He had already told Carlos he fucked up, so having him there calmed him a bit.

“Do I tell my mum? Oh god it’s making me dizzy thinking about it, Carlo I don’t know what to do.” She was in tears now. Carlo looked to his dad and handed him the phone.

“Lila? Are you still there?” His accented voice startled her but she responded nonetheless. “Hey, you’re going to be okay, listen you should tell your mum and let her get you settled okay?” His voices soothed her and she agreed. “I’m not mad, so neither will your parents okay? It was a one time accident.”

The call ended and Lila went to tell her parents. “I’m so sorry papi, I didn’t think-“ Carlos stopped his son.

“Let’s just wait and see what the verdict is, then we can talk.” Carlos was indifferent, he knew his son wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, especially when both of their careers would be in jeopardy.

Carlos and his son moved to the main area of the house and waited. When Carlo’s phone dinged with the familiar chime he set for Lila’s calls or texts, he froze. “The test was negative.” He sighed. Looking to the picture proof she sent, Lila’s recently done nails solidifying it wasn’t an internet searched picture.

“I’ve already told you everything then, but I’m serious Carlo, don’t do this again.” Carlos was allowed to be mad now that his son slipped up. “You have to be more careful and in your right mind during these situations mi hijo.” Carlo nodded and went back to his room, relieved the scare was genuinely just a scare.

A few days go by and they were back to normal, putting themselves on a sex ban as to regather what happened and not make the same mistake. Carlo had been at the garage ready to race when he faltered and stood in shock.

His team couldn’t snap him out of his stance, finding Carlos to do it. “Carlo? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked. His son looked up awfully slow and then showed his dad the text that froze him.

“Lila was pregnant, but she miscarried.” His voice was stable, slow, and shocked. Carlos looked to his son, emotionless and not knowing how to react.

“Call her, if there’s something she needs, it’s your reassurance.” Carlos said. He distracted his team while his son rushed away to his driver room to call his girlfriend and comfort her.

“I love you, Cariño.” He said before the call ended. “The ring is already on its way.” He continued the sentence that made her giggle through her tears. What she didn’t know was that he was not joking and that he did have a ring on the way for when they’re 18.

Waves of emotions

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @chertik-007vvv @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[straykidsnerd255]

I'm Yours, Truly

Title: I’m Yours, Truly

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo (w/system) x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff with a hint of angst at the beginning

Song: Would you fall in love with me again- Ithaca Saga Epic the musical

Rating: G

Warning(s): Jinwoo leaves for a raid that takes 15 years to complete even with the help of other National Hunters signing up to help, Jinwoo is 30, the reader is 29, Jinwoo and the reader are married with a son (Spoiler- its Suho)

Prompt: “You’re the most important thing to me”

Summary: You hadn’t seen your husband in 15 years. Your heart ached for his return, begging the gods above to bring your beloved back to you. Your son, Suho, had pointed to the man in the photos that sat on the tv stand, asking you in a small voice, “Mom, when will dad come back home?” Your heart aches waiting for the man you loved more than the air you breathe. The moment he appeared in your living room, blood soaked clothes, a tired smile and shining eyes, the simple words leaving his mouth making your heart sing, “I love you.”

Word Count: 1464

A/n: It was recently brought to my attention that Jinwoo is one word and two separate words like I have been writing in my one-shots, so I deeply apologize for my mistake on that.

Behind the collaboration: Me and @fairy-writes took the same character, same prompt and wrote. We wanted to see how different our writing styles were, so enjoy!

Her One-Shot linked HERE

Sitting in the chair that belonged to your husband, knees tucked to your chest, you stare out the window, the sun beaming down on the freshly bloomed roses. Your heart beating painfully in your chest as a fresh wave of tears filled your eyes. It had been 15 years since you last saw your husband. Months before the raid was to take place, you and Jinwoo were graced with your pregnancy. Your first child, a baby boy. Jinwoo had fused over you during the 8 months he would be with you, fluffing your pillow, massaging your swollen ankles, waking up at the most random times to get you food you were craving. All with the biggest smile on his lips. When he left for the raid, you were due a month later. 

Giving birth to your son without Jinwoo by your side was a harsh blow to your emotions. You were depressed, scared that your son would never see his father. Holding your baby, tears filled your eyes. He looked just like him. You little baby boy looked just like Jinwoo. Pressing soft kisses to your baby boy's head made your heart ache a little less but the ache was still there. Still a stark reminder that your husband was on a mission, a raid that could very well end his life. You kept your hopes up though. Smiling as the small bundle in your arms moved closer to your warmth.

“Mother,” Your son's voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Suho, your 15 year old son, stood in the doorway, his eyes swollen from crying. You stood from the chair and quietly walked towards your son. You place a hand on his shoulder and the other on his face. You watched as Suho heaved before breaking down and rushing into your arms. You held your son for a moment, your own heart breaking at the fact your sweet, baby boy had to grow up for 15 years without a father. Pulling away from your arms, Suho tried his best to stop his tears, but they would not stop. 

“Mother, when will father come back home?” His words gripped at your heart like the hands of a desperate monster clawing towards the light. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know. The raid should be over by now, we just have to wait.” You whispered, watching the pain swirl in your son's eyes. “I just want the pain to stop. I can’t take the comments that are being made towards me mom. The sick, and twisted comments about you. I just can’t.” he whispered the last words, twisting the knife like pain in your heart. Suho’s hands clenched as his body shook. 

You wanted to take your son's pain.

You wanted to take your son’s pain and bear his pain. You didn’t want your son to feel the burden that he was feeling. The pain that was eating away at the sweet, and happy little boy. The boy that had the brightest of smiles, the twinkle of wonder in his eyes. Now, the boy before you only felt dread, fear, and longing for someone that you believed had long since passed. 

Jinwoo was the first love you had ever had, the first kiss, the first real relationship. He was your first in everything. Now, he may be gone. He may have bitten off more than he could chew this time. Didn’t matter that multiple national rank hunters and s-rank hunters had gone to help, all that mattered was that this mission had most likely killed your husband and took your son’s father from him. 

You looked at your son, studied the way his body shifted, the way his eyes darted around. The pain that lay behind his gray eyes as he wiped the tears from them, trying to appear strong even though you could see right through him. You could see the pain laid bare before you, and it hurt you more than you could express in words. Seeing your son, have to hold his tears when someone asked where his father was. Your heart wailed in pain as the memories that you and Jinwoo had together before his departure.

Suho blinked his eyes, blurring you and everything for a moment. Suho wanted nothing more than to see his father in person. The photos that lined the tv stand, or that sat in the hallway didn’t do the justice he thought it would have. It didn’t give him a glimpse as to what his father was like. He loved that you did your best to tell him about his father, but not being able to be held by him made him realize he was missing his father’s warmth. 

Opening your mouth, you go to comfort your son, but a familiar feeling fills your chest. The warmth that you had been missing for the last 15 years of yours and your son's life. The warmth that melted the coldness that had once filled your heart. The warmth that made your heart soar and sing. Turning around, you’re met with a sight that nearly brought you to your knees. Your husband, clothed in tattered clothing, blood soaked and worn from the fight, stood in front of you and your son, his eyes shining with unshed tears, a smile that could rival even the sun. Your son moved faster than you and rushed to his father, slamming himself into Jinwoo’s chest, sobbing as his father was finally home. 

Suho’s hands gripped his father’s shirt tightly, refusing to let go. The fear that he could disappear before his eyes squeezed his heart. Jinwoo held him just as tightly, his muscles tense with how tightly he was holding his son. “Oh my son, how I have longed to see you. You have grown into such a handsome young man.” Jinwoo refused to let his son go. He couldn’t, not when he had missed 15 years of his son's life for a stupid mission. Suho buried his face in his fathers chest, taking in his warmth, the way it felt like a massive blanket covered him. “I have missed you so father.” Suho whispered, before moving away from his father, turning to you, a gentle smile on your lips as you watched their interaction. 

Stepping to the side, Suho smiled at you before going back to his room to give you and Jinwoo some time, a smile on his face and warmth that spread through his body. He could finally tell those who had bullied him for not having a dad, that his dad had finally returned from the raid he had been tasked to 15 years ago. 

Stepping forward, your hands drifted to his face, cupping his jaw and watching as he melted into your touch. His eyes softening even more; his body heaving a sigh as he finally was back in your arms. Your hands moved away from his jaw but your fingers danced across his face, memorizing the planes of his face, mapping out the lines of his cheekbones. His hands drifted to your waist, his thumbs rubbing your hips, comforting you as your tears finally fell down your face. Your lips trembled as a smile graced your face. You blinked softly before pulling Jinwoo closer, your lips brushing against his. 

The feeling of his body pressed against yours erased any doubt you had. His fingers brushed against yours as he intertwined his fingers with your. Leaning down, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth you radiated. “This is why you’re the most important thing to me. The warmth you give, the smiles that radiate the sun, the laughter that fills the room, I missed it all. Those years spent in a cave with bloodthirsty beast were torture because I couldn’t be with you. I couldn’t be with my son.” Jinwoo wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to his chest. 

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, your body craving his warmth after being away from him for so long. The feeling of being in your husband's arms after 15 years made fresh tears fall down your face. Pulling away from the kiss, Jinwoo smiled so gently at you that your heart almost beat out of your chest with how hard it was pounding. “I love you.” He whispered, his lips brushing against yours. Your heart soared as a smile appeared on your lips. “I love you too.” You whispered, watching Jinwoo’s smile grow bigger. Your little family, after 15 years, is now complete. With your husband home and your son smiling again, the home that had lacked warmth for so long, was once again filled with a familiar warmth.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kento bringing his baby daughter to work so she can meet the first years! And Gojo… (who she ends up loving making Kento jealous 😭)

“Are you sure this sits right with you love? I don’t want you to do something because you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

Oh so gently, your husband grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer.

“You didn’t enjoy a day with your friends since I can remember. You deserve to have a little time for yourself.”

“But not if that means you are forced to take our daughter to work-“

“Forced? Apart from you, she’s what I’m most proud of. Please don’t worry, darling. This is nothing but a short day at Jujutsu High”, he soothes you while placing a small kiss on your forehead.

To be honest, there are a lot of things Kento Nanami would rather do than taking his baby girl to meet those jerks at school. But if it means you’ll have a day off to go shopping and enjoy yourself, he’d do everything he can.

“I’ll text you when I’m back. Have a nice trip and don’t hesitate to buy something.”

Nanami arrives at Jujutsu High with his baby daughter nestled securely against his chest in a soft carrier with that unsettling feeling rising in his chest.

This day will be exhausting.  

The minute he sets one foot inside the classroom, everything goes silent. In fact, it takes the first years a couple of seconds to actually register that this is him, that this is the usually so cool and composed Kento Nanami standing in front of him – with a baby nestled against his chest.

“She’s so tiny!” Nobara gasps, immediately rushing over, her hands reaching out before she hesitates.

“Wait, can I hold her? Will she break?”

Nanami adjusts the straps of the carrier, his lips pressing into a flat line.

“She’s not made of glass, but no, you can’t her yet.”

Megumi, ever the observant one, tilts his head.

“She looks just like you,” he comments, noting the serious set of the baby’s expression.

Even at such a young age, she seems to have inherited Nanami’s unimpressed stare.

Yuji, on the other hand, is all but vibrating with excitement.

“She’s adorable! Look at her little cheeks!”

He grins and waves like a maniac.

“Hi, baby Nanamim!”

Your baby, snug against her father’s chest, blinks up at them, her tiny fingers clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Then, her gaze shifts, and her entire demeanor changes.

“Ah,” Gojo comments, dramatically placing a hand over his heart while entering the room.

“A little lady with refined taste. She already knows true greatness when she sees it.”

Nanami sighs as his daughter reaches her chubby arms out toward Gojo, her usual serious face replaced with sheer delight. She babbles excitedly, tiny legs kicking against the carrier as if demanding to be picked up.

Betrayal. Utter betrayal is everything Nanami feels.

When you told him about the way his daughter looked at Gojo when you visited a few days earlier, he thought that you were joking. After all, there’s no way his daughter would actually fall for that jerk, right?

Gojo doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward with a broad grin.

“Oh? Do you want Uncle Gojo to hold you?”

He barely waits for permission before scooping her up, spinning her lightly in the air, making her giggle - a sound so rare that everyone stares in awe.

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

“This is a mistake.”

“Correction: This is destiny,” Gojo counters, holding her up as if she’s the Lion King cub.

“She’s chosen me.”

“She’s a baby,” Nanami replies dryly, watching as his daughter happily grabs at Gojo’s sunglasses, yanking them down to reveal his eyes. She coos, utterly enchanted.

Gojo laughs, winking.

“Guess I have a new favorite person. Sorry, Nanami.”

Nanami crosses his arms, watching his daughter adore Gojo with increasing jealousy.

“You’ll be returning her now.”

“Aw, but she loves me,” Gojo whines, spinning her again just to hear her delighted giggle.

“She sees the truth! That I am-”

“Gojo, if you finish that sentence, I will use my overtime hours just to deal with you.”

Gojo pouts but hands her back, though not before whispering,

“We’ll hang out again soon, princess. Hey, maybe your wife likes me that much as well-”

“Shut. Up.”

Nanami glares as his daughter makes grabby hands at Gojo even in his arms.

Utter. Betrayal.

[kathryn-maraudersversion]

Serpents & Stars Part 4

Summary: You are not falling for the Marauders. You are not. They, however, seem determined to prove otherwise. And when James Potter pushes you a little too far, you finally snap.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin) x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

Your plan was simple.

You were going to pretend nothing had changed.

You were going to ignore the way your stomach flipped when James smiled.

You were going to ignore the way Sirius’ teasing didn’t bother you as much anymore.

You were going to ignore the way Remus’ quiet warmth made your chest ache.

You were not falling for them, and you were going to prove it. The next morning, you arrived at breakfast with a purpose. You sat at the farthest end of the Slytherin table, as far from the Marauders as physically possible.

Did that stop James from finding you? Of course not.

Did it stop Sirius from sliding into the seat beside you like he belonged there? No.

Did it stop Remus from watching you, patient and knowing as ever? Absolutely not.

James leaned in, all confidence and mischief. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You took a deep breath. Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

“I wish I could say I didn’t know you,” you muttered, stabbing your eggs aggressively.

Sirius snickered. “She’s in a mood today.”

Remus sipped his tea. “She’s been avoiding us.”

You froze, damn Remus and his stupid perception.

“I have not,” you said, voice clipped.

James raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t show up to the library yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

“You left the great hall the second we arrived.”

“I had things to do.”

Sirius smirked. “You ran away from us last night.”

Your jaw clenched. “I. Did. Not.”

James tilted his head, studying you, and then the bastard grinned. “Ohhh,” he said, something dangerous and delighted flickering in his eyes. “You’re scared.”

You slammed your fork down. “I am not scared of you, Potter.”

James’ smirk only widened. “Not of me. Of us.”

That was it. The last crack in your armour shattered.

You stood up so fast your chair scraped against the floor. The entire Great Hall turned to look.

But you didn’t care.

You glared at James, anger burning through you like wildfire. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

James blinked, clearly not expecting this much rage.

Sirius sat up straighter, intrigued. Remus, of course, just watched.

“You think you can just waltz into my life and what? Wear me down? Make me fall at your feet?” Your voice was low, sharp, venomous. “Because it’s a game to you, isn’t it? The thrill of the chase, the Slytherin girl who hates you, the one challenge you haven’t won yet.”

James frowned. “That’s not-”

You laughed, but it was bitter. “Well, congratulations, Potter. You win.”

His eyes widened. Sirius’ smirk faded. Remus’ jaw tensed.

You took a step closer, your voice dropping. “You want to know why I’ve been avoiding you? Because I let you get in my head. I let you make me think-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

You turned to walk away.

And that should have been the end of it.

But James Potter was a Gryffindor.

Which meant he had absolutely no self-preservation.

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. “Wait.”

His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. Anchoring.

And when you looked at him.

Gone was the teasing glint in his hazel eyes. Gone was the cocky smirk. There was only sincerity. Frustration. Something raw and real.

“Is that really what you think?” James asked, voice low. “That we’re just playing with you?”

You couldn’t answer because if you said it out loud, it would mean you believed it and deep down, you weren’t sure you did.

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You are impossible.”

Sirius leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You think we don’t mean it? That we don’t actually care?”

Your throat felt tight.

“You call it a game,” James murmured, “but we’ve already lost.”

Your breath caught.

James let go of your wrist, stepping back. “Go on, then. Walk away.”

Sirius leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. If that’s what you really want.”

Remus just nodded, as if he already knew you wouldn’t.

And that was the problem because you could. You could walk away. Right now. Leave them behind. Pretend this had never happened. You could end it here. So why weren’t you moving? Why did your feet feel like they were glued to the ground? Why was your heart pounding like it was trying to tell you something? You clenched your fists. You were so close to freedom.

So why-

Why did it feel like letting go of them would be the real loss?

Taglist: @amatoanima @flaviaandbooks @nymanas @maraudersgirlsposts @bridkesby @yvessentials @treefairy-28 @navs-bhat @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @zoleea-exultant @hermionelove @starmaniii @kitcat912

[a-cross-the-universe]

SHARP TONGUE

Nagumo Yoichi x f! reader

"Nagumo and the reader are barely more than acquaintances, tolerating each other only for their mutual friends—the Sakamotos. That was until Nagumo made a mistake. A big one."

Part II. Part III

***

The clatter of chopsticks against ceramic filled the cozy backroom of Sakamoto’s shop. You sat across from Nagumo, arms crossed, watching him twirl his noodles with unnecessary flourish. His usual sly grin was firmly in place, an expression that made your fingers twitch with the urge to flick something at his smug face.

"You know, for someone who claims to be an assassin, you eat like a show-off," you muttered, resting your chin on your palm.

Nagumo’s brown eyes flicked up to meet yours, amusement sparking. "And for someone who claims to be indifferent to me, you sure do pay a lot of attention." He slurped his noodles obnoxiously, deliberately slow, eyes never leaving yours.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "Don't flatter yourself, Nagumo. I'm just making an observation. You could at least eat like a normal person instead of acting like a circus act."

From his seat nearby, Sakamoto let out a low chuckle, not looking up from where he was wiping his daughter Hana’s hands clean from the mess she’d made with her meal. "You two bicker like an old married couple."

"Don't even joke about that," you and Nagumo said at the same time, snapping your heads toward Sakamoto in synchronized horror. Shin, sprawled across the counter lazily, burst into laughter.

"You guys are hilarious," he said between giggles. "Seriously, it's like watching a rom-com with extra violence."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest from being with friends was undeniable. Even if Nagumo was here. You tolerated him for the sake of Sakamoto and Shin, but some days, you wondered how they found his antics even remotely entertaining.

Nagumo leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand, mirroring your position. "Admit it, you’d be bored without me."

You scoffed, pushing his bowl an inch closer to the edge of the table just to be petty. "I’d be at peace without you."

He smirked. "Same thing, really."

Shin hummed. "You know, it wouldn't kill you guys to get along."

You and Nagumo exchanged looks. Then, in perfect sync, you both said, "It might."

Sakamoto sighed, already resigned. "Just don't break anything in the shop this time."

That was asking for a miracle.

Nagumo grinned wider, the glint in his eyes promising trouble. "No promises."

And you knew, for better or worse, your rivalry with Nagumo Yoichi wasn’t ending anytime soon.

***

The training room in Sakamoto’s shop was quieter than usual, the only sounds being the rhythmic shuffle of feet against the mats and the occasional clang of metal as your blade clashed against Nagumo’s.

Sparring with him was supposed to be practice, but somehow, it always ended up being a battle of patience instead. Not because he was stronger—though he was, annoyingly so—but because he spent more time teasing you than actually fighting.

"Your grip is too stiff," Nagumo mused, easily sidestepping your slash. "You should loosen up a little. But I guess that’s hard for someone so… tense." His smirk was infuriating.

You grit your teeth and aimed a quick strike at his side, only for him to catch your wrist with an effortless twist. His grip was firm, not painful, but enough to remind you just how much more experienced he was.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. "Careful, if you keep getting this flustered, I might start thinking you like me."

Your face heated—not because he was right, obviously—but because you refused to let him get the upper hand outside of combat, too. With a sharp inhale, you twisted your body and used your momentum to break free, creating space between you.

"I’d rather stab myself than like you, Nagumo," you shot back, adjusting your stance.

He chuckled, flipping his knife between his fingers effortlessly. "Oh? Sounds like someone’s in denial."

You lunged forward again, this time aiming lower, hoping to knock him off balance. But Nagumo saw through it immediately, twisting at the last second and catching your attack with ease. Before you could react, he used your own momentum to spin you around, pinning you against the wall with his blade resting lazily against your throat.

The sharp, controlled pressure made your breath hitch. He was close—too close. His golden eyes flickered with amusement as he tilted his head, as if debating his next words.

"You know," he said, voice smooth, "if you really wanted me this close, you could’ve just asked."

You almost kneed him in the stomach.

"Get off me, you insufferable flirt," you growled, shoving him back. He moved away easily, laughing, clearly entertained by your frustration.

"You’re improving, though," he admitted, twirling his knife absentmindedly. "Maybe one day you’ll even land a hit on me."

"I will land a hit on you," you huffed, rubbing your wrist where he had grabbed it earlier.

Nagumo grinned, stepping closer again, just enough to invade your space. "I look forward to it, sweetheart."

You glared at him, cheeks burning, but you knew one thing for sure—your battles with Nagumo weren’t just about skill. They were a game, and neither of you were planning to lose.

***

(o´▽`o)ﾉ

I think that’s enough for an introduction. Please let me know what you guys think. Do you think Nagumo and Sakamoto are a little bit OOC? I don’t know.

[favefandomimagines]

I Know Places 4 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe’s mistakes might be finally catching up to him; Y/N tells Kie the truth

AN: things are beginning to happen!!!!

Previous part

Taglist: @luvrclub

It had been a week since Y/N and Rafe’s first date, and she felt like she was floating.

Every text from him sent her heart racing, every late-night call made her stomach flip. He had a way of making her feel important, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was talking to her. She’d never had that before—not really.

Growing up, she had always felt like the friend of the pretty girls. Kie and Sarah were the ones guys gravitated toward, the ones who turned heads without even trying. Y/N never felt invisible, not exactly, but she had never been the one to have someone’s full attention.

But now, she did.

And it was hers and hers alone.

Keeping it a secret, though? That was the hard part.

Rafe had been adamant about their second date being his idea. He wanted something lowkey, something personal, but wouldn’t tell her anything else.

“Just trust me, Pretty Girl.”

And she did.

The problem was Kie.

Kie knew Y/N better than anyone, and the past week, Y/N could feel her best friend watching her. She wasn’t outright suspicious—not yet—but Y/N could tell she was waiting for her to slip up.

And today, with the bait shop quiet and no one else around, Y/N decided it was time to tell her the truth.

||

The shop smelled like salt and baitfish, the usual scent of their summer days. The morning rush had ended, and now, with John B and JJ out doing scuba tours, Sarah handling inventory, and Pope and Cleo getting groceries, it was just Y/N and Kie.

Y/N leaned against the counter, her fingers tapping anxiously. Kie was organizing some fishing lines, humming to herself, completely unaware that Y/N was about to drop a bombshell on her.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Hey, Kie?”

Kie looked up immediately, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, what happened?” she teased.

Y/N huffed a small laugh, but it died quickly. “I have to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little too serious. Kie’s teasing expression softened.

“And I’m telling you as my best friend first, not my brother’s girlfriend. And I need you to let me explain fully before you react.”

That got Kie’s attention. She set the fishing lines down and turned to face Y/N completely, concern flickering across her face.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m listening.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, bracing herself. “I’ve been talking to Rafe.”

Kie’s expression didn’t change, but Y/N saw the way her shoulders tensed.

“Since the night of the beach party,” Y/N continued. “We went on a date last week. And we’re going on another one soon.”

Silence.

Y/N forced herself to keep going. “I really like him, Kie. He’s different than he used to be. Something happened that made him finally grow up and start treating people like humans.”

Kie was still unreadable, which only made Y/N more nervous.

“He asked me about me,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. “My favorite books, my favorite memories with you, what I want to do with my life. No guy has ever cared enough to ask me that. And I think I really like him.”

The silence stretched, and Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Kie finally spoke, her voice even. “Are you done?”

Y/N nodded slowly, preparing for the absolute worst.

Kie exhaled through her nose, then tilted her head. “Was he nice to you?”

Y/N blinked. She had expected yelling, accusations—not this. “Yeah, he was really nice to me.”

Kie studied her. “And you’re positive you think he’s changed?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice firm. “There’s something different about him. I told him about my dad, and he actually wanted to defend JJ. The Rafe we knew wouldn’t say that.”

Kie was quiet for a moment before stepping closer. She placed her hands on Y/N’s shoulders, looking her straight in the eye.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Kie said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’re my best friend. And though I’m not thrilled about keeping this from JJ, you were my friend first. And I get why you haven’t told him.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. “So… you’re not mad?”

Kie sighed. “I want to be, but no. I trust you. And if you trust Rafe, then I’ll try to trust him too.”

Relief washed over Y/N, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Kie. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Kie hugged her back, squeezing her tightly. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

Y/N pulled back, nodding. “I won’t.”

But deep on the Cut, someone was getting hurt

||

Rafe’s truck came to a screeching halt outside Barry’s place, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust as he yanked the keys from the ignition. He barely registered the familiar surroundings—the rusting cars, the half-collapsed fence, the dim glow of a single flickering porch light. His mind was only focused on one thing.

Finding them.

The second he slammed the truck door shut, Barry was already stepping onto the porch, lighting a cigarette like he wasn’t about to have the shit beaten out of him.

“Damn, man,” Barry drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You look pissed. Gotta be careful with all that pent-up rage, Cameron. Might give yourself an aneurysm.”

Rafe didn’t say a word. He crossed the distance in three strides, grabbing Barry by the collar and shoving him up against the wooden porch post.

Barry let out a choked laugh, unfazed. “Oh, we’re doin’ this already? Usually, we at least have a drink first.”

Rafe’s knuckles connected with Barry’s jaw before the man could finish his sentence.

Barry grunted as his head snapped to the side, the cigarette dropping from his lips.

“Where the fuck are they?” Rafe growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Barry wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking despite the fresh bruise forming. “Man, you’re gonna have to be more specific. I know a lot of people.”

Rafe hit him again. This time, Barry stumbled, his back slamming against the porch railing.

“Don’t play with me,” Rafe snapped. “I know you were the middleman. I know you know who came into my house.”

Barry laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the railing like they were just having a friendly chat. “You think I got control over those guys? Shit, Cameron. You don’t owe me money. I was just the guy making introductions. You’re the one who decided to play businessman and not pay back what you owed.”

Rafe’s fists clenched, his breathing heavy. He was losing control. He could feel it slipping, just like it always did.

“I swear to God, Barry, if you don’t start talking—”

“They know about her.”

The words cut through the rage like a knife.

Rafe stilled.

His grip loosened. “What did you just say?”

Barry wiped at his bleeding lip again, his smirk widening despite the fresh bruises. “The guys you owe? They know about Y/N.”

The air between them shifted instantly.

Rafe’s breath came short and fast, his chest tightening, panic seeping in through the cracks.

“No,” Rafe said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. No one—”

Barry let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing at his jaw. “Oh, come on, man. You really think you kept that little crush of yours a secret?”

Rafe’s stomach churned violently.

Barry smirked, tilting his head. “You forget how much you used to talk when you were high, Cameron? You wouldn’t shut the hell up about her. Some Pogue girl you couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop watching.”

Rafe’s entire body felt like it had been submerged in ice water.

Barry leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something more sinister. “Looks like they figured out your soft spot.”

That was it.

That was the moment Rafe snapped.

His fist connected with Barry’s face one last time, harder than before, sending the man sprawling onto the ground with a loud grunt.

Barry groaned, coughing as he rolled onto his side. “Fuck, man. You really gotta work on those anger issues.”

Rafe stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his bloodied fists trembling at his sides.

He needed to get out of there.

Without another word, Rafe turned, storming back to his truck and tearing out of Barry’s driveway in a spray of gravel.

His mind was spinning, spiraling, breaking.

They knew about Y/N.

They knew.

Rafe’s pulse pounded in his ears as he drove blindly through the Cut, the weight of the revelation pressing against his ribcage.

It didn’t make sense. There was zero chance anyone knew about Y/N. No one had seen them together, no one knew they were talking.

The only reason Barry even knew about his feelings for her was because of the past.

Because of the times Rafe had been too fucked up to keep his mouth shut.

Rafe had always had a thing for Y/N Maybank.

For years, he watched her from a distance, pretended to hate her, pretended she didn’t make his head spin in the worst way. She was the only Pogue he never really saw as one of them.

She was smart, sharp-tongued, unapologetically herself.

And the fact that she belonged to them? That she was best friends with the people he grew up hating? It only made her more untouchable.

But now, somehow, the people he owed knew.

And that meant she wasn’t untouchable anymore.

||

Rafe wasn’t sure how long he had been driving before he found himself in front of the Maybank house.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might crack a rib.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N was on the porch, her laughter ringing through the air as she helped Sarah carry in large boxes of inventory. Her hair was falling loosely over her shoulders, her sundress swaying slightly in the warm evening breeze.

She looked happy.

Untouched.

Pure.

Rafe tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching.

Then, he glanced down at his hands.

His bloody, shaking hands.

The stark contrast between the two—the warmth of Y/N, the darkness that had seeped into every inch of his own life—made his stomach turn.

He had already dragged her into this without meaning to.

But he’d be damned if he let her get hurt because of him.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on the wheel.

He had to keep her out of this.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew that.

But he’d burn the whole damn world down before he let someone take her from him.

[nymph-ette111]

Jeff with a S/O that genuinely thinks he hates her most the time? Like he’s just such an unaffectionate dick she feels like she’s almost in a one sided relationship, but he has no idea how to show her how much he loves and cared about his partner.

WARNINGS; TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, JEFFREY WOODS HIMSELF IS A WARNING

AUTHOR'S NOTE; I really enjoyed writing this! @moldypeaching Incase you forgot about this request, terribly sorry for taking such a long time :')

- Your feelings are completely valid because the way this man perceives things and feels emotions genuinely needs to be studied.

- His feelings towards you are... complicated and I'm not sure how to describe it, it's not like he fucking hates your guts or something—if that were the case he wouldn't even consider a relationship with you— but it's so easy to mistake his way of showing love for the complete opposite. You're always paranoid, always doubting this man's intentions.

- The only kind of affection he's comfortable with is the sexual kind—he has no problem initiating heavy make-outs or rough sex, but the moment it’s something as simple as saying 'I love you' or innocently complimenting you without saying something out of pocket, he's rejecting it immediately.

- He’s convinced himself that you’re entirely dependent on him, that you can’t live without him. So, he feeds into his own delusions, using them as an excuse to treat you like shit without consequence. His thought process is 'She loves me too much to leave, so no matter what I do, she’ll always forgive me.’

- This of course leads to many, many arguments. Ones that hurt because Jeff hates a lot of things, and admitting he made a mistake is high on that list. If he's wrong, trust me, he's realized it a long time ago. He just doesn't want to back down and bruise his ego.

- Now I'm going to be a hypocrite and go against what I previously stated in another post about the jerk, most of these arguments have ended with break ups. Jeff is short-tempered—quick to blow up and end things in the heat of the moment. But he always comes back to you, almost desperate. If there was ever a time where you realized that Jeff actually gives a fuck, it's during those times.

- He comes back an absolute mess, probably drunk too. You take it upon yourself to take care of the man when he's in such state. That's when he actually apologizes for being an asshole. Drunk words are sober thoughts.

- What follows after is Jeff's attempts at being a better boyfriend but knowing him it would probably last a week before his old habits start to noticably seep in once again.

-There's really no way to fix this guy, he's messed up beyond repair. He really does love you he just can't show it. You have to be a master at romanticizing toxic relationships in order to continue dating this man.

[cherry-cough-syrup]

Take the Plunge Part 3

Recruiter/Gong Yoo x Reader

Part one - two

a/n: Omg, are you falling for him?? Why would you do that? I really like how this part went and it helped me figure out how I'm going to end the series. Might take a break and work on my Sang-woo fic idea?? If I made a mistake, no, I didn't.

Wc: 3.1 k

No TW's this time. You give him a blowjob. I'll have to ramp it up in the next chapter to make up for this. You are sassy as always in this chapter, never change <3

(I couldn't put the photo I wanted so you get this)

You woke up at noon, rubbing your eyes as you adjusted to the light pouring from your window. You winced when you sat up, remembering what happened last night. Your ass was incredibly sore on the side he hit and you weren't sure you'd be able to sit properly for the next few days. You lift your shirt, inspecting the bandages on your stomach. What a psychopath you muse. Breaking into your house, slicing you up, then patching it. Who does that?

You had mixed feelings about him. He was crazy, truly, but the attention he gave you, the obsession? It made you feel things you didn't want to confront. He's stalking you, putting your life in danger, hurting you. He makes you play these games because that's what he gets off on. Are you just a means to him getting satisfaction?

You stew in your unpleasant thoughts in your bed. The usual bedding of random blankets and pillowcases has been replaced by a red set. You laugh at the sight, of course, he replaced them with the same color that caused the need to do so. He could've chosen any other color, but he wanted you to remember what he did, what you let him do and liked.

After breakfast you make your way back to your room, wincing as you try to find the most comfortable way to sit at your desk before you start studying. You open up your left side drawer and find a brown card with a triangle, square, and circle printed on it. You flip it over, and a street name, date, and time are written. You know exactly who it's from, the thought of him going through your belongings makes your stomach curl. It's a few weeks from now, giving your cuts time to heal, but you're nervous to find out why he wants you healed.

_____________________________________________________________

You stand on the dimly lit street, the trees swaying, making shadows dance around you. The cold is almost suffocating as you wrap your jacket tighter around you, bouncing on your feet to try and produce some warmth. Right as the time hits 7:30 pm, a car rolls up, stopping with the back passenger door in front of you. It's nice and clean, but it isn't flashy. You've noticed that about him, he radiates expensive energy but never in a flashy sense. You can just tell by looking at him, no need to show off. The driver steps out, coming around to your side before opening the door. You peer inside, seeing your stalker relaxed against the seat, sipping a drink. Rolling your eyes, you thank the driver and slide in, keeping yourself pressed into the door and away from him. You're mad at him, the unsavory thoughts creeping back in as he looks at you. You're just a game to him.

He undoes his seatbelt, setting his drink down as he slides towards you. "I missed you, almost couldn't wait for those cuts to heal," he admits, wearing a smirk that almost resembles fondness? 'You're just seeing what you want to see' you scold yourself.

You laugh, unsure if he's even capable of feeling that emotion. "I don't know if I believe that. You seem to feel nothing unless you're causing someone fear and pain," you turn to look at him, a challenging smirk playing on his lips and you mimic it.

"Wrong, I feel a whole lot when you're coming for me," he mumbles as he invades your space, his voice low in your ear.

Your smirk falls, replaced by a blush all over your face as you drop your gaze, finding a new interest in the leather seats. He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. He's burning you alive with the way he studies your face. He's so hard to read. You can't tell if he likes you or just what you let him do. You try to act like you have no choice, but if that's true, why are you in his car right now? Letting him touch you and make the pit in your stomach flutter?

"Where are we going?" You ask, breaking from his grasp and settling your gaze on your fidgeting fingers. He smells incredible; expensive and clean with a hint of alcohol.

"I want to play another game," he says, a hand resting on your thigh as he picks his drink up.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, I figured that part out already. Thanks, Captain Obvious. I asked whe-"

He grabs your face, pinching your cheeks in his hand as he forces you to meet his eyes. There's anger in his eyes, challenging you once more. "You need to watch your mouth around me. I let it go for our first game, made you quiet for our second, and I'm running out of patience for it," he snaps, giving your face a rough squeeze before leaning against the seat and running a hand through his hair.

"Long day at work it seems," you mumble. He's in the same suit he wore when he played ddakji with the man on the bridge, so you assume he was doing the same today. It dawns on you that you have no idea what he does for work. Hell, you don't even know his name. You turn to him, debating.

"What's your name?"

He laughs, a full-on laugh right in your face. "If you win our game tonight, I'll tell you."

"What's the game?" You ask, a warmth spreading across your body from the sound. He hadn't laughed like that before, and it was the most genuine you'd ever seen him, even if it was at your expense.

"Hide and seek. I bought an abandoned building recently and haven't gotten the chance to check it out. We'll be on an even playing field so you'll have a chance, wouldn't be fun otherwise." He rubs circles over your thigh, which would be soothing if it was anyone else. His hold feels possessive, not comforting.

You spend the next 10 minutes in silence, not meeting his eyes that never leave you. They're burning you alive and you almost start ripping your fingernails off just to distract yourself. You let out a breath when the car rolls to a stop and you nearly barge out of the car before he grabs your wrist to stop you. "Ladies don't open their doors." You roll your eyes again, sure they'll get stuck if you do it anymore tonight. You've been together for 20 minutes and you're already annoyed.

You take in the building as he walks you to the front door. It's about 10 stories high but pretty narrow, which means you'll have to climb quite a few stairs to put some distance between the two of you. Maybe you could hide close to the stairs and make a run for it once he went past you? No, you hadn't paid attention on the drive here and had no idea where you were. Plus, he gets pretty upset when you don't play by the rules. He knows where you live, there's never any real hiding from him. The thought almost makes you laugh.

"I'll give you 5 minutes to hide. I get 10 minutes to find you. We play until I get bored," he says, pulling his phone out to set a timer.

"What's the punishment?" You can feel the nerves getting to you, but you push them down. You need to focus on winning.

"A surprise," he smirks, opening the door to the entrance. "Your time starts now."

You book it, damn near flying up the stairs, that same laugh from earlier haunting you as you sprint up. You make it to the fifth floor in 3 minutes, no time to be proud of your accomplishment with your lungs aching as you take in the area. It looks like it used to be an office of sorts, 10 cubicles are in the center, 3 doors on the opposite side of the stairs. You make your way over and the first one is jammed, the second leads to a disgusting single-person bathroom, and the 3rd is a storage room filled with boxes. You make your way inside, shuffling boxes around you as you hide in the corner.

It's dark, the box above your head looks like it could cave in at any moment. You've been in here for several minutes when footsteps grab your attention, causing you to hold your breath in case he can hear. He tries the first door, and the second, a sound of disgust coming from him almost makes you giggle before he swings open the door to the storage room.

Your heart is trying to beat out of your chest with such force you think you might faint. His footsteps grow closer, occasionally stopping as he checks for you. They go right past you, searching the other side of the room as your heart begins to calm down. You're gonna win this, you have to win this.

His footsteps go by you once more, and you hear him turn the knob and swing the door open, but just before he steps out the box above you collapses, a startled yelp escaping your throat as the pain begins to throb in your head. You hear a deep, unhinged laugh as you mentally curse at yourself. It's not the same amused laugh as earlier, it feels like a threat. The footsteps grow closer again, but just before they reach you, an alarm goes off. You feel like you could throw up from relief.

"I'm impressed," he says, shutting the alarm off. "You can come out now."

You shove the boxes away, crawling out of the mess. He really does look impressed with you and you have to fight the smile trying to surface. Your insides feel fuzzy. "Damn box nearly ruined my life," you say, pushing past him to leave the stuffy room.

He grabs your wrist, spinning you around to crash into his chest. Your uncaught hand reaches up, grabbing his arm to steady yourself. He leans into your ear, whispering, "My name is Gong Yoo, but I prefer you calling me sir." You want to smack the smirk right off of his face. Rip it off, really, but the knowledge of his name almost makes you blush.

"I think I prefer calling you my stalker, honestly," you say, and he tightens his grip on your wrist, using his other hand to cup your face. His eyes are narrow as he stares into you.

"I think you'll prefer it when you're coming around my cock," he says, pressing a firm kiss to your lips before walking out of the room. "You've got 5 minutes, your time begins now," he yells out.

You stand there for a moment, trying to get your brain to work so you can hide again. Shit, you didn't hear if he went up or down. You go to the third floor, it's a big meeting room, not useful. You get to the second floor, and it seems like some sort of locker room. You make your way towards the back of the room, barely squeezing yourself into locker 218. The locker is bigger than a school locker, but your shoulders are on fire from the tight fit. You pray it doesn't lock from the outside, he might not have the keys for them.

Your heart starts trying to escape again when you hear familiar footsteps walk into the room. You're hopeful he'll waste time checking the lockers or just assume you wouldn't be able to fit. Unfortunately, he makes his way straight to the last row before he starts checking. Of course he is, why wouldn't you go for a locker far away from the front?

You groan when he opens your locker. You struggle to get out, wincing when your shoulder harshly catches on the latch. He just stands there, an amused smile on his face as he watches you struggle.

"Not smart to pick the last row of lockers," he scolds and you advert your gaze on the floor, huffing.

"What's my punishment?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I'll tell you when we're done playing," he replies, turning around and walking towards the door. You want to walk over and push him down the stairs, but you doubt the driver will take you home without him. "I want to play one more round. This time, if I catch you, my cocks gonna be in your mouth," he says, closing the door and walking down toward the first floor.

"Like it wasn't going to already," you mutter, making your way out of the door. It was obvious by now that he got off on these games, and you wouldn't go separate ways until he got his fix. You manage to climb 4 flights in 4 minutes, but it doesn't give you much time to hide. It looks like an in-office daycare of sorts. There are two doors on the opposite side of you. One leads to a bathroom, the other is a small kitchen. You hide underneath the cabinets, the stench of old food making you fight not to gag. You hear a strange noise as you steady your breathing, it sounds like scratching. Trying to ignore it and muffle your gasps for air with your hand, it grows louder. You look down, eyes widening at the sigh of a rat scratching and chewing at an old box of crackers right next to your foot, and it takes every ounce of self-control in your body not to scream. Instead, you shift your foot, hoping to scare it away. The rat jolts, throwing itself against the cabinet door to open it, and scurrying away. The cabinet closes with a loud thud and you curse under your breath, burying your head in your hands. You hadn't noticed the footsteps approaching the kitchen door until they stopped and you could feel the smirk on his face as the door swung open. He calls out your name, taunting you, and something burns deep in your stomach from it. He hadn't used your name before, but you weren't surprised he knew it. You heard the cabinet's opening and didn't even try to remain quiet anymore, just sat and waited. He opened the one you were hiding in, smiling down at you before he straightened up, waiting. You just sat there, pretending like you couldn't see him.

"I found you," he states.

"Hadn't noticed," you scoff. He grabs your arm, your head knocking into the ceiling of the cabinet as he pulls you out and onto your knees. His mask slips, his face contorted in anger.

"I have just the thing for your smart mouth," he spits, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him as his other hand undoes his belt. You're faced with his hard cock in a matter of seconds, the tip leaking with pre-cum as you take in the sight. "I had a busy day and that mouth isn't making it any better. Let's change that."

You roll your eyes, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few pumps before opening your mouth. You would've given him another snide remark, but you're exhausted from running around and just want to go home. You slowly lick his tip, pressing your tongue down as you collect the dripping pre cum. He groans as you close your mouth around him, slowly making your way down his length.

"Faster," he demands, his hand going for your hair. He doesn't pull, but his grip is firm. You pick up the pace, moving your hand away as you take more of him in. You moan when you feel him hit the back of your throat, forcing yourself to take the last inch of him and bury your face in his pelvis. He lets out a low hiss, his hips bucking into you and making you gag. He murmurs a light 'fuck' under his breath, repeating his actions.

"You sound so pretty when you gag around my cock," he says. You look up, his eyes are full of lust, his mouth in an 'o' shape as he watches you take him. His hair is falling in front of his eyes and he keeps pushing it back. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you continue.

You take him out of your mouth, giving your throat a break as you run your tongue on the underside of his shaft and swirl around the head of his cock. It sends a jolt of electricity through you as he tips his head back, a gasp escaping from his lips. You wrap your lips around him again, hallowing your cheeks and sucking as your nose meets his pelvis again, holding there for a few seconds while his hands grip your hair tightly, tugging on the strands. It hurts, but it feels so good. You moan and it causes him to shiver, animalistic groans and swears leaving him as you pull your head back so only the tip is in your mouth, then swirling your tongue around him before you take him all the way. Spit is dripping down the side of your chin as he starts fucking into your mouth. You're gagging and moaning around his cock, tears flowing down your face.

You feel him tense, his thrusts become sloppy as your name falls from his lips, filling your mouth with his seed as he rides out his high. You choke as he releases your hair and pulls out, but you manage to swallow everything. You're both panting and your head is pounding from all the hits it's taken today, so you keep your eyes on the ground as he tucks himself back into his pants.

You wipe the tears from your eyes before looking up at him. He leans down, wiping the drool and missed tears from your chin before holding a hand out. You ignore it, getting up on your own before pushing past him and making your way down the stairs. You're angry again, and you don't even know why. Because you liked it? Because you felt something in your chest when he called out your name like that?  

You make it back to the car, not waiting for the driver as you get in and slam the door shut. Gong Yoo slides in a moment later.

"Not nice to slam doors," he chastises, crowding your space. "You didn't even wait for me to tell you your punishment," he pouts, though his eyes have a certain glint to them that makes your stomach uneasy.

"I don't care. Do whatever you want," you groan, leaning your head against the seat and shutting your eyes.

He smiles, tapping the window that separates you from the driver. "Very well," he says, grabbing a briefcase you hadn't noticed lying on the floor. The last thing you remember is that familiar sharp pain in the side of your arm.

a/n: give me feedbackkkk

[samhadjblog2]

Look if you enjoyed S2. Im glad that you did. However I feel like your not getting the point of people's issues with S2

A lot of people's issues with S2 wasn't that "It ended with a revolution" rather that it ended by avoiding the class division conflict. Which drove the characters motivation throughout a lot of S1. As well as avoid the more complicated issues established in S1.

On top of that to act like "Love" was all what the characters needed kind of go's against how S1 portrays love. Because love in S1 wasn't this pure beautiful thing rather it was something led to good and bad. Silco's love for Jinx and how it led to her committing violent acts. Vander's love for Vi and how it put all this pressure on her to act a certain way. Love wasn't never the outright answer to the character's woes in S1.

And in S2 a lot of that "Love" seems very inconsistent. For instance you bring up how Viktor, Vi and Jinx needed Jayce, Caitlyn and Ekko respectively feels off to me.

Because why can't "Vi and Jinx" be together ? If S2 is about Vi seeing a new side to Jinx as "Not the baby sister she has protect" but rather as an equal she can respect. Then that would be the two respectively already meet the criteria of love. That doesn't take into account that Jinx killed people something that pushed Vi away from her. Which just feels cheap to say that all Jinx needed was Ekko telling her "Her past doesn't define her". And like that no further evaluation of her psyche and her violent actions are taken into account.

As for Caitlyn (while I wouldn't call her abusive) I would say that she broke Vi's trust and so wouldn't be the right person for Vi at the moment. And ep.8 didn't do enough with her to make up for her mistakes with Vi. Yes I know she allowed Vi to leave with Jinx (Who really should of stayed in prison).

As for Viktor, he wasn't someone who held self-image issues, he simply didn't want to die. That was the whole reason why he wanted to get rid of his sickness. And at the end of S1 he already made peace with his sickness and accepted death. And so claiming that "He needed Jayce's love in order to love himself"feels disingenuous. Its especially disingenuous when you see a lot of Jayces actions towards Viktor. For instance Jayce uses the Hex-core on Viktor against his wishes when he died. Which is an example of "Love" being messed up, and it only becomes more questionable when it "Jayce's fault" that Viktor decided to end the world. Seriously he could of just talked it out with Viktor and tell him that he met his future self at any moment and yet all he did was act aggressive and shoot Viktor. Which makes it hard to say that Viktor needed Jayce to feel love.

And so its really hard to say "Love" was all what these characters really needed.

We suffer and are in pain because we need love and can't find it. But even through pain and wrongdoing we can always return to love.

I think Arcane is less for the people who already understand this and more for people who don't. I think that's the source of disappointment with the leftist politics of the show. It's trying to model what people like Viktor, Vi and Jinx need people like Jayce, Caitlyn and Ekko to do for them.

I refuse to think that a show that so closely understands marginalisation and represents it so well would have centrist politics.

Viktor, Vi and Jinx are people who are suffering and in pain. They don't need to lead the revolution, they need relief, they need support.

Viktor has been getting outcasts like Jayce and Sky into the Academy. His own success is commendable. Vi wanted to follow in Vander's footsteps and she immediately gets to dismantling shimmer with Jayce. Even Jinx inspired revolutionary action, helped Isha, helped Sevika, helped Silco! They have done enough. They have done plenty to make their world a better place.

The show continually challenges the idea that a singular act of revolutionary violence will solve the divisions of their society. Historically this has never been true.

The divides between the cities run deep. All the way down to individual relationships. It's the failure of people to choose love between each other instead of political ambition, vengeance or even idealism. They need to accept the imperfection, lay down their weapons and choose to love the people who are already in their lives.

Love won't just automatically fix everything. Sometimes their mistakes will mean death. Sometimes it will be a complete reinvention/ new start. But without affection they cannot be held together.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Part 30: Tongue-tied

A March 2025 Hinny Microfic for @ginnystrophyhusband using Prompt 22

830 words (which I very, very much hope you like)

All the March prompts that I write will be set in the same universe as, and form a prequel to, this fic.

Fair warning - it's going to be fluffy!

This little series has ended up with a lot more actual story than I expected, so if you'd like a bit more context to what's actually going on here, you might want to...

Read them all from the beginning on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry spends a lot of time thinking about how to propose to Ginny. He wants it to be perfect. 

His main concern is deciding what Ginny would want. Nothing big or flashy, which frankly, that wouldn’t be his style either. No, he knows that she’d prefer something intimate, something low-key, but he still wants it to be romantic. Still memorable. 

Eventually he decides to propose to Ginny on the beach. It feels both special and personal, given how happy they both are at Ty Môr. He thinks sunset would be a good time; he’s pretty sure that’ll make it romantic. The only problem is how to get her there without raising her suspicions, which is how he hits on the idea of a picnic. It’s bound to work, because she’s easily distracted by the prospect of good food, like the proper little Weasley that she is. 

He decides to do it on a random day towards the end of August. It’ll be easier to surprise her that way. He picks a day, a Thursday as it happens, when he’s on an early shift, giving him plenty of time to prepare before she gets home; too much time, as it turns out, because he’s ready a full hour and a half before Ginny’s expected home.

The hamper’s stuffed with sausage rolls, roast beef sandwiches, fresh strawberries and home-made chocolate chip cookies. He’s hidden a bottle of champagne at the bottom, with a cooling charm on it. There’s a blanket, glasses, napkins—everything he needs. Most importantly, the ring’s in its velvet box in his pocket. He’s checked and double checked it. He’s checked and double checked everything. Now all he can do is wait.

And wait.

And wait some more. 

He fills the time by running through his plans in his mind, over and over again. He imagines exactly what he’ll say and exactly what he’ll do. He thinks about how Ginny might react, and how he’ll react to that. And that’s when he starts to get nervous.

All the doubts that plagued him, and the worries that this can’t possibly be real, can’t possibly actually be his life, start to creep insidiously into his brain. A dozen or more worst case scenarios assuage him, and he knows—knows—that he’s being daft, but this means so much to him, she means so much to him that he just can’t seem to shut his brain off.

All this means that when Ginny finally does arrive home, he’s wound tighter than a box of doxies. 

“What’s all this?” she asks, walking into the kitchen and clocking the hamper on the counter as she dumps her kitbag on the floor by the back door. 

Harry looks at her, standing in the middle of the room, hair damp from the shower, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, not a scrap of makeup in sight, and realises that he can’t wait even a minute longer; she is a goddess, and he has to know.

Instead of answering her, he digs in his pocket and pulls out the box, standing in front of her, and offering her the ring, willing her to say yes.

Only she doesn’t say anything. 

Nothing at all. 

She just stares at the ring, and then at him, and then at the ring again, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. 

Harry starts to panic. Why isn’t she saying anything?

“Are you…” she starts, tentatively, voice wobbling noticeably, “...asking me to marry you? Because I kind of think you are, but that would be an extremely awkward mistake to make.”

And that’s when it hits him that he hasn’t actually said anything either. All he’s basically done is thrust a ring in her face and hoped for the best. “Shit!” he hisses, dropping to one knee in front of her. Every word of the big, romantic speech he had planned is lost somewhere in his short-circuiting brain, but far from being tongue-tied, he realises that what he wants to say is really very simple. “Ginny Weasley. I love you more than I can possibly explain, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please—will you marry me?”

Now it’s Ginny’s turn to forget to use her words. She launches herself at him with a squeal, and she’s crying and she’s kissing him, kissing him so hard, and he thinks they must be happy tears because of the kissing, but he has to be sure.

With some effort, he pulls back just a little, so that his forehead is pressed to her. “Is that a yes?”

“Fuck yes, that’s a yes!” she giggles, breathless and radiant and tear-stained.

And so that’s how it happened—no fireworks, no grand gestures, but in the kitchen at home on a random Thursday evening. 

Not slick, not romantic, but perfect all the same, because he asked and she said yes, and really, when it comes to a marriage proposal, what else matters? 

Harry can’t think of a single thing.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 3] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, friends to lovers (maybe?), some wine, mentioning ex-boyfriend,

A/N: my head has been having bad days lately. it took me a long time to start this chapter and I had moments of doubt whether it makes sense at all. but here it is and although it's not perfect I'm giving it to you. I hope that at least a few people will like it. thank you for reading my scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

Harry Castillo: Is everything okay between us?

You: Sure! Don't worry.

He stared at those three words with childish hope, even though his insides were full of fears and worries. You were his assistant, his friend, and he really cared about you. The situation that had arisen that evening was a bit awkward, and Harry was even ready to apologize to you for it. But maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it at all?

He breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened at the appointed time and you stepped out. The dress you were wearing beautifully accentuated your figure, which moved gracefully as you walked to the car.

“Stay.” Harry said quickly to the driver and got out of the car, then went to open the door for you. “Hi. You look stunning.”

A shy smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you. You don't look too bad either." You replied.

A few seconds later, you were both sitting on the leather couch in the back of a limo as the driver drove you through the crowded city. The silence between you wasn't unbearable, but it certainly wasn't natural. You could feel Harry's quick glances at you, but it took you a few minutes to decide to say something.

"Mrs. Kruger-Waltz should be here after the weekend. I got an email this morning."

Speaking of work, a safe topic. Harry cleared his throat. “Good. Sorry you had to deal with that today, you probably had a lot of work to prepare for.”

"Not really. I just put on what was hanging somewhere in the back of my closet. You should be glad it's not my prom dress."

You both chuckled and the tense atmosphere seemed to ease a little.

"I wanted to apologize." This time, Harry spoke up. "I made you feel awkward yesterday. That could have been very uncomfortable for you." 

“It’s fine, really.” You replied, looking at him as if you were waiting for him to finally end this conversation. “We know perfectly well that nothing will happen. You and I, we only work together.”

"Right. But either way... I'm sorry."

You instinctively reached out and lightly squeezed his forearm. "It's fine."

You exchanged uncertain smiles. In reality, you had all night to think about everything that had happened. The conclusion was simple - you had both succumbed to the moment, but luckily your brain reacted at the last moment before it became a disaster. It was comforting, because you really liked Harry and you didn't want something like this - stupid? irrelevant? pointless? - to ruin a really great relationship. Besides, Castillo was your boss, and no normal person kisses their boss, even if he looked like...

You quickly glanced at Harry sitting next to you. He looked really good in that suit that was tailored to his order. No matter if you saw him in a formal or casual version, the man always looked good, even though he put in minimal effort. How on earth had no woman ever kept him around for longer? It was a mystery to you.

"Get ready." He said as the car pulled up in front of the building. Brown eyes looked at you and after a moment he added. "If you want to leave, just say so. There's nothing keeping us here."

You nodded, feeling your stomach twist into knots.

Even though you and Harry had been to a few of these types of parties, you hadn't learned to behave yourself around the distinguished guests alone. Suddenly, the dress you were wearing looked cheap and boring, and you certainly weren't as pretty as most of the women there.

But Harry was always there, making sure you didn't get lost among the people and every now and then throwing in some funny remarks that relieved some of the stress.

“You have to come visit us sometime, Harry. L.A. will give you everything you want.” Mr. Murphy, the older man Castillo was talking to, patted him on the shoulder paternally. “And bring your lovely companion. Have you ever been to the City of Angels, young lady?”

You smiled at him over your glass of champagne. “I haven’t had the chance.” Harry shot you a quick, furtive glance. “But I trust your word, it’s certainly stunning.”

"Not like you, not like you!" Murphy laughed "I have to apologize now. I see Mr. Donovan is heading our way, and I need to talk to him."

You said your goodbyes and were alone again for a while. The party really wasn't that bad, except for a few boring speeches and weak toasts. Harry was often approached by guests, and you politely stepped aside, trying not to bother them. However, when another businessman approached him, you quickly signaled to him that you were going to the toilet and disappeared among the crowd.

The clock in the lobby showed that it was slowly approaching 11pm as you passed more and more people. You enjoyed watching them. Perfect looking, dressed in expensive clothes, adorned with jewelry straight from the best jewelers, smelling of the most exclusive perfumes. It was Harry Castillo who gave you the opportunity to see this part of the world, and you still felt like a tourist there.

"We've been running into each other a lot lately, don't you think?"

You turned around and spotted him immediately. Daniel was smiling as he walked over to you. The knot you had in your stomach the entire party tightened even more.

"Daniel!" you plastered a smile on your face, "It's nice to see you again."

The man looked around, then leaned in slightly towards you. "You're not alone here, are you?"

"No. I'm here with Ca... With Harry." At the last moment, you bit your tongue, and warmth crept up to your chest. You didn't want to continue with this lie, but the situation demanded it. "And you? Is Beth here too?"

He shook his head. "She wasn't feeling well today. It would have been better to stay home."

"Right."

You looked at each other for a moment until Daniel finally offered to walk you to the hall where the guests were gathered and where you had left Harry. You were going through all the possible sentences you could say to get rid of Daniel when someone gently took your arm.

You turned to see Mr. Murphy, who was smiling politely at you. “Sweetheart, please tell Mr. Castillo I’ll call him next week. Of course, my offer still stands—I think your boss should take you to Los Angeles with him. We’d love to have you over for dinner.”

"Of course, Mr. Murphy. I'll tell him everything. Are you leaving now?"

"Yeah, yeah. I've got an early flight and I'd like to catch a nap. These parties..." he looked around the room and laughed, "they're all for the young. Take care of yourself, darling."

He bowed once more and quickly walked away towards the exit. Only when he disappeared from your sight did you realize that Daniel had been listening to you the whole time, and now he was watching you closely.

"Are you Castillo's assistant?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. We work together." you replied, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Daniel shook his head and smiled uncertainly. "I just thought that you and him... I thought that you..."

"Oh! I finally found you."

You felt a familiar scent and a strong arm wrap around your waist. Harry. You didn't know he had been watching you since you entered the room, and Daniel's presence next to you intrigued him a little. He decided to appear next to you the moment he noticed your figure becoming more tense. He knew your body language very well.

"Mr. Castillo." Daniel nodded, greeting the man. "Again, I met your lovely companion first."

"Careful, I'm starting to suspect you want to steal her from me." Harry joked, his fingers lightly squeezing your side to signal 'I'm here with you'.

Daniel smiled again, his eyes darting between you as if he wanted to catch any little gesture or grimace that might tell him something more. “Don’t worry, I already have my own assistant. Although I assure you, yours is just as good.”

“She's the best, right, honey?”

You were so surprised by what Daniel had said that it took a split second for you to realize Harry had leaned down and brushed his lips against your temple. It was barely noticeable, but it achieved its purpose because something in Daniel's gaze changed. You could almost see his brain working overtime.

You didn't know what to do, how to escape this place. But Harry was by your side, which was a small relief. You weren't alone. The lie continued.

“Forgive us, Daniel.” Castillo spoke again. “We wanted to go home. It’s been a long day.”

"Of course. It was very nice to see you again, Mr. Castillo."

They nodded at each other, and then you felt Harry steer you toward the exit. Your legs struggled to carry you down the hallway. The knot in your stomach was so bad you were sure you were going to throw up. If bad things came in pairs, that was likely.

"He's watching."

Harry's quiet voice echoed by your ear. You turned your head slightly and looked at him in surprise. "Who?"

"Daniel." Harry replied. "He's watching us. I think he's starting to suspect something."

You blinked quickly, taking a deep breath. “Does it still matter? Murphy told him I was your assistant.”

"That doesn't have to change anything."

You stopped at the door to let a larger group of guests pass. You didn't dare look at Daniel, you couldn't. But you saw Harry's face and there was something indescribable in it. A mixture of concern, support for you, kindness.

"Do you want him to think you're just an assistant?" he asked. "Of course, you're more than that, but he doesn't know that."

"He thinks we're together." you mumbled, looking down. "Just take me home, Harry. I feel bad enough for tonight."

When he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, you didn't even flinch. Harry gently tilted your face up to look at him, it seemed so natural that you didn't know what to say or how to react.

"You don't owe him anything." he said, his voice quiet and warm, soothing. "And you can definitely give him something to think about."

"You think so?" your voice was close to a whisper.

"Yes. That's a brilliant idea."

Harry leaned in, your lips inches apart, until you finally felt his warm breath. You didn't resist, you didn't run away. It was so intoxicating that you even waited for it. When your lips touched, you felt something incredible happen. A soft and tender kiss, just a brush of lips. Nothing that would make you uncomfortable, but it was hard not to sink into it completely.

When Harry pulled away a quiet sigh escaped your chest.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

You didn't know why you cared that Daniel Stevens, your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, thought you and your boss, Harry Castillo, were together. It didn't make any sense at all. But lately, fate really hadn't been on your side, and every time you'd met up, you felt like you were sinking deeper into a senseless lie.

God! It wasn't even a lie at first. Just an understatement. Now everything was changing faster and faster. You were losing control of everything.

That kiss, it shouldn't have happened at all. Harry was your boss and you really liked him, but it wasn't right. But when you got in the car, neither of you said a word. The emotions and thoughts were so intense inside you that you preferred to keep your mouth shut before something you might regret later slipped out.

The car drove you home, Castillo opened the door for you again, and you said goodbye. No more words, no sign that he was thinking the same thing. Lying in bed, you almost envied him—your head felt like an amusement park in the height of the season, and he was probably already asleep.

"Please, hold the elevator!"

At the last moment, a hand held the door open, allowing you to slip inside. You gasped, “Thank you,” leaning against the cold metal wall as someone next to you shifted, then said your name.

“If I didn’t know you worked for Castillo, I’d think you were stalking me.” Daniel stood next to you, smiling nonchalantly as if this meeting was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” You replied, embarrassed, straightening up. “At this hour, I’m a bit…”

"Yeah, I know." He finished for you.

The elevator slowly began to rise, and you were silent for a few more floors. Finally, you spoke up. Maybe too nervously, but you had to ask. “I’ve never seen you in this building before. Do you have a meeting here?”

"Yes!" Daniel smiled and lifted his briefcase. "My client is already here."

"Oh. That's good."

But when the elevator stopped on your floor and you got off, you realized that Daniel was next to you again. The anxiety in your heart grew with each step, and when you reached your desk, you heard Daniel talking to Susan.

"I got a message that Mrs. Kruger-Waltz is already here. She's waiting for me."

"Yes, please hold on a moment." Susan reached for the receiver and dialed Castillo's internal number. Soon her voice filled the room again. "Mr. Stevens is here... Yes, she's already here too... Of course. Thank you."

With a soft click, the receiver returned to its place. “Mr. Stevens, you may come in.” And then your name was called. “Mr. Castillo is expecting you as well.”

Susan smiled politely, not even realizing that you felt like she was inviting you to the gallows. But you couldn’t refuse, so you grabbed the bare necessities and headed for the glass doors, trying to remember to breathe.

The office was brightly lit, and you immediately noticed Harry, who was sitting in a comfortable chair by the coffee table. He smiled when he saw you, then nodded towards the woman sitting on the couch. She was beautiful. Long blonde curls fell over her shoulders, and ruby ​​lipstick adorned her lips. She looked like a classic beauty, dressed in a well-fitted dress.

“This is Mrs. Diane Kruger-Waltz,” Harry said, and the woman nodded politely. “And I think we already know each other?”

Only then did you remember that Daniel had come in with you.

“Yes! Good morning, Mr. Castillo.” They shook hands, and the man moved toward Kruger-Waltz to sit some distance away from her. “I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

“Easy, Daniel.” The woman laughed lightly, showing white teeth. “It was just a very nice chat for now. You didn’t tell me that Mr. Castillo was such a charming man.”

"I asked you to call me Harry." Your boss reminded her, and then he showed you the other chair.

You sat up, feeling like you had “liar” written all over your forehead, and you hadn’t even done anything wrong. But you couldn’t let anything show. As conversation filled the office again, you took a deep breath and opened your notebook, ready to write down everything that was said there.

You were an assistant after all. Castillo was your boss. And this was your job.

Shit.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[cheshireliam]

"Once More, An Evil From Which You Can't Return" Story Event: Chapter 1

Roger Barel & Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

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This event story works in such a way that Chapter 1 is for Suitor A and Chapter 2 is for Suitor B, before splitting into two endings.

⇦ Prologue

━━━━

— The next day after I lost my memories.

Kate: … Thank you for the meal.

I sat at the breakfast table, but my mind was fully occupied by the fact I’d lost my memories…

In the end, I only had a small portion of fruit and some morning tea before getting up from my seat. 

…

(I wonder how I can get my memories back…)

Even after leaving the dining hall, that was all I could think about.

Just then, I heard someone’s footsteps coming from behind me.

Roger: Wait up, lil’ lady. 

Roger: We had a date planned for today. It’s still on, right?

(I don't recall anything about a date. Does this mean I made that promise before I lost my memories?) 

I found myself unconsciously staring at Roger’s face in confusion, and then he suddenly reached out to grab my chin— 

Roger: …

Kate: … W-what do you think you’re doing!?

When I realised our lips were just mere inches apart, I quickly pushed against his broad and sturdy chest to stop him.

Roger: Hm? You were staring so intently at me, I thought you wanted a kiss. … Was I wrong?

Kate: Definitely wrong! 

(Don’t tell me, Roger and I were dating? Even if we were, his explanation is too self-centered…!)

(I can’t believe this egotistical man is my lover!) 

Roger: Well, a promise is a promise. You're going on a date with me. 

As I stood there all flustered, Roger’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

…

(... Whether Roger is really my lover or not, it might've been a good idea to come out to town.)

Hoping that seeing the familiar streets might jog my memory, I followed after Roger— 

Roger: Having someone with me to carry the bags really does make a difference. 

Kate: This isn't a date, now is it!? 

(We went to several pharmacies, bought tons of medicine and bandages… there’s no way this counts as a date.)

Roger: It is, though? A shopping date.

Kate: I’m not seeing anything remotely romantic about this… 

Roger: Come on, don’t start slowing down. We’ve got more places to drop by.

Kate: More? My hands are already at their limit, can’t we take a break…?

At the same time I said that, my stomach let out a loud growl, announcing that it “wanted a break” too.

Roger: Pfft, HAHAHAHAHA! 

Kate: T-that’s because you dragged me all over town… 

Roger: In that case, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, as an apology. 

Kate: Eh? But…

(Is he really okay with that?)

Roger: What’re you hesitating about? We’re close enough for me to do that. Let’s go. 

…

Roger: This is my regular spot.

Roger: Let’s look at the menu… you’re good with starting off with a beer, right?

Kate: S-sure. 

Roger: Then we’ll have some snacks, something hearty for the main dish, and… 

While I scanned the menu, Roger placed our orders and sounded like he really was familiar with the place. 

When the food finally arrived…

Kate: Fish and chips, aged meat, potatoes seasoned with rock salt, banbury cake…! 

Kate: Wow… these are all my favourites! 

Roger: … I see. 

The small feeling of confusion I got… was because I expected him to go “told you so” when I expressed my delight at the food. 

Instead, Roger’s eyes were slightly narrowed, looking as though he was reminiscing about a memory I couldn’t recall. 

(Could it be that we’ve eaten together before?)

(Is that why Roger knows exactly what I like…?) 

Roger: What’s wrong? You stopped eating. Come on, eat up. 

Kate: Ah, right… thanks for the meal!

When I looked at him again, his facial expression was back to his usual grin. 

I took a bite of the steak and a smile naturally formed on my lips the moment the flavours spread in my mouth. 

Roger: That’s the smile I want to see. You have a bad habit of overthinking things to the point of losing your appetite. 

Roger: I know you’re getting all sorts of uneasy emotions right now, but you should eat well, sleep well, play hard, and laugh even harder. That’s how you keep your spirits up. 

Kate: Okay! 

(... Maybe that's the real purpose of today’s shopping trip.) 

Roger must’ve noticed how troubled I looked this morning and took me outside to distract me. 

I still wasn’t sure if we really had a shopping trip planned for today before I lost my memories, 

(But I’m not going to ask.) 

Had Roger not asked me out, I probably would’ve spent the entire day alone and brooding over my memory loss. 

Roger: These mashed potatoes soaked in the meat’s juices are amazing.

Roger: We should order more. You can still eat, right? 

Kate: Yes, of course! 

(I’m glad I accepted Roger’s invite.)

Kate: Thank you so much, Roger. Eating really cheered me up. 

(I always thought Roger was a pushy, selfish egotist, but he’s actually so kind and dependable.)

I found myself wondering about my past self before I lost my memories. 

(Did I… know this side of Roger before?) 

Roger: Why are you looking at me like that? Are you falling for me? 

(If only he wouldn't say such things…!) 

Kate: … It seems I’ve had a lover before. So I can’t think of falling for anyone else right now.

Roger: A past lover…?

Roger: Instead of clinging to your old flame, why not take this as a chance to choose again? 

Roger: Be my lover, Kate. 

Kate: T-that'd count as being disloyal towards my lover. And besides… 

(Even though I’ve lost my memories, there’s still one thing I can say for certain.) 

Kate: If I did have someone I once loved, I believe I’ll fall in love with them again. 

Roger: … Fall in love again, huh. 

I couldn't tell what were the emotions that flickered behind his wavering eyes.

But, in the very next moment—

Roger: Well, if ever you want to go to bed with me, just say the word. 

(This man, seriously…!) 

He said those utterly shameless words in broad daylight while downing his beer in one breath, and I barely managed to hold myself back from punching him.