#and if I get my old job back my life is set

[gracieheartspedro]

Cotton Mouth

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader

word count: 6.6k

description: you need a new dealer and you know a guy through the unfortunate grapevine you used to be wrapped up in. but I mean... the banter is great, and you cannot help but fall for him. but don't fret, he feels the same way.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, marijuana use is a huge theme, reader smokes, reader is 19/20 and so is eddie, eddie is a drug dealer, major flirting and banter, mentions of cults, mentions of human sacrifice and blood/sex rituals, eddie and reader jokingly call him 'leader', pet names (sweetheart, baby), reader gets cotton mouth, unprotected p-in-v, eddie cums inside, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, oral (m!receiving), choking (m!receiving)

author’s note: what the fuck am i doin' here you ask? good question. I don't know. but I'm glad this is not rotting my brain. i like writing for eddie!!! he makes me blush!!! shut up!!! okay, anyway, thank you @amanitacowboy like always for helping me beta this and also being so encouraging every time i get obsessed with writing something. bitches really be moaning for this one.

also happy birthday, joe. ha ha ha.....

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

You never expected to contact Eddie Munson for your drug needs. 

When your dealer skips town because of suspicion of drug smuggling over state lines, you call up your former best friend’s ex boyfriend to give you your usual. 4 grams to last you through your stressful work week and to make sure your tolerance does not drastically fall to the lowest of lows. 

You had not been in school for two years and you knew that Eddie had successfully dropped out the year prior. After a chaotic last year, he was basically a recluse, only dealing to his usual clients. Luckily, you were still friends with Gareth, who in turn, put you in contact with Eddie again. 

After a humiliating senior year, you had practically become a recluse as well. You found a job at the Sheriff’s office where you sat at a desk all day and filed paper work, hardly talking to anyone. You would go back to your parent’s house and smoke weed until the sun set and then you would do it all over again. 

You hated this stupid life you fell into since you neglected to go to college, so you numbed the anxieties with marijuana. 

That’s where Eddie comes in. 

You meet him by Lover’s Lake. A picnic table that you used to sit at as a small child and play in the lake with your cousins and friends. The air is crisp, the leaves falling all around you. He pulls up in his rickety old van and stumbles out with his usual smirk. 

“Fancy seein’ you here,” He practically giggles as he settles across from you at the table. He was the same Eddie you remembered from senior year. His hair is a bit longer, but still cut in the same way. Long frizzy curls with long bangs across his forehead. His style is the same, as well. Ripped black jeans and random torn up metal band t-shirt. The rings were a bit excessive now, but the silver jewelry matched the chain on his pants. He was coordinated at the very least. “Hey, Munson,” You smirk, finally relaxing your shoulders. “Been awhile.” “Yeah, last I saw you was the night Lori dumped my ass,” He says it so blase, not really noting your tonal shift, “Good times.” Your heart sinks hearing your former best friend’s name fall from his lips. You glance down at the carvings on the wooden table, trying to disguise your disgust. He notices your demeanor shift. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring her up. Gareth told me about-” You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear about how she fucked up your life, your plans, your former relationship, anything. Rehashing it led nowhere for you. You put your hand in the air, signaling him to stop speaking. “She fucked my boyfriend, yep,” You state bluntly, finally glancing up at him. “You’re selling me weed, right?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your rush to change the subject, instantly going back to the reason he was actually sitting in front of you. As much as he wanted to chat with his long time secret crush, he knew that you were only here for one thing. He could tell the personal topic was not on the table. 

“Right, this is not therapy,” He practically whispers to himself. He pulls out a baggie of weed, more than 4 grams for sure. “Got this much. How much do you want?”

You scope out the baggie. The bud looked good, the same color as the last stuff you used to get from the random guy down the street from you. It’s not that you did not trust Eddie, you just were hesitant towards most guys in Hawkins. You had been screwed so many times. “I usually got 4 grams from my last dealer.” He nods, pulling open the bag and pulling out a couple pieces of the bud. He seems to be just eyeballing, which worries you. You know how much 4 grams looks like, so you watch him with a careful eye. “You know how much that is?” “Yes, I can usually eyeball it. Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” The nickname sends butterflies shooting through your tummy. You look up from his fingers, up to his neck, where you spot a couple hickies. You smirk, shaking your head at the idea Eddie’s getting girls. It was such a shift from his early high school days, when you knew him. Back then, he was such a nervous loser that he could hardly land your friend. You always thought she dated him because she pitied him. You had no clue he was only acting like that because he secretly wanted you, not her. 

You watch him put the distributed bud in a baggie for you. “I’ll do $8 per gram, for you. Dealer’s discount.”

You raise your eyebrows, looking at the overstuffed bag. “$32?”

He looks up at you, a goofy smile on his face. “She’s a math whiz, how cute.”

If your eyes could roll out of your head, they would in that moment. He was always snarky. You enjoyed it though. You always loved bickering with him because it would usually end with you two in a fit of giggles. He never took you seriously, and you vice versa. You pull your wallet out of your black leather purse and pull out two twenty dollar bills. “Here’s $40.”

He hands you the baggie as you hand him the cash. You hand pulls away a bit, but his lingers on the bag, keeping your hand close to his. The action is dragged out, a bit too long for comfort. You glance at him, noticing his dropping smile. 

“You haven’t changed a bit.” You do not know if it’s a jab or a compliment. You tilt your head at him, trying to see if his face changes at all at your discontent. But he still has a half-smirk painted across his stupidly cute face. You yank your hand away with the plastic bag, slamming it on the wooden tabletop. “God, I hope I have. I used to be flat chested and annoying.” He throws his head back in laughter, enjoying the slight fun you poke at yourself. You never noticed how loud and booming his laugh is until you two are outside, alone in the quiet woods. “Still funny,” He chuckles, shutting his metal lunch box of goodies, “Never annoying.” You bite your lip, trying to refrain from entertaining the conversation further, but you cannot help yourself. “But still flat chested?”

More giggles, this time more toned down, due to the fact that he’s now looking down at your chest. “Jury’s out on that one.”

You smile, trying not to let on that you are actually enjoying this interaction even when it started off a bit rocky. You tuck your baggie of weed into your purse, making sure it’s buried underneath all your random necessities. You look back at him and he’s still eyeing you with a cocky grin. 

“Well, it was nice doin’ business with you, Munson. Do you mind if I,” You lick your lips, contemplating if you should refrain the question. You stick to your original formulated word vomit, “call you again if I need a reup?” His eyes twinkle at the idea of you calling him. “Sure thing. As long as I get to call you if I’m in need of some conversation.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, completely taken aback from his up front suggestion. You did not mind the idea of talking to him more. Frankly, you needed a friend that was not your high school aged sister. You hadn’t been successful making any new friends. This was your way to do so. 

“I’ll talk to you tonight, then?” His smirk drifts, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

-

You are smoking a bowl when your landline in your phone starts ringing loudly. You haphazardly stand up and rush to it, picking it up in 5 seconds flat. 

“Hello?” When he clears his throat, you know who it is immediately. “Evenin’, princess.”

You smirk, letting some of the smoke out of your lungs. “Who’s this?”

You can imagine the grin plastered across his face as he responds. He had a very good smile. 

“The boogeyman.” You play into the antics. You do not know any better, “Eddie Munson! What are you doin’ callin’ me at this hour?”

“Just callin’ to see if you smoked the stuff yet?”

You breathe out and inhale to clear your lungs before you start coughing directly in his ear.

“Sure am, right this very second.”

His dry chuckle sends shockwaves through your body. “Is it good enough for you?” You wrap your phone’s cord around your finger as you start pacing your bedroom. You used to do this type of thing when you were on the phone with a boy you liked as a teen. Was this not the same thing?

“So far, so good. I will report back if there’s anything awry.”

He’s quiet for a moment which makes your stomach a bit uneasy. “Well… I’m about to start lighting up myself, you mind keeping me company?”

-

Eddie calls you every time he smokes. For four days straight. 

You two talk about everything. The way you hated your job. The way he hates living with his uncle still. You both vent your frustrations about the state of the world while smoking a bong or a bowl, giggling from time to time when one of you chokes on the smoke. It was usually always him. 

By day four, you were on your last pack in your bowl that morning. You smoked before work, hoping the bloodshot eyes would not raise any eyebrows. 

When Eddie calls that night and you are not smoking with him, he gets worried. “Taking a break, sweetheart?” “I smoked my last bit this morning.” The confession rattles him. You told him before that you would let him know when you needed more. He feels like he’s neglected your needs. And Eddie hates feeling like a failure, especially for you. 

“Do you need me to drop by with more?” 

You have not had a boy in your room since your stupid cheating ex. The idea of having Eddie coming over makes your stomach twist. And while you were a grown woman and graduated, you still lived with your parents. Having him in your childhood bedroom felt childish, embarrassing. You glance around your room, thinking of all the judgments he would pass looking at the posters on your wall. 

But this was Eddie. The nerd, Dungeons and Dragons playing, drug dealing, metal head. 

Your Rob Lowe poster would be the last of his concerns, you think.

“Do you even remember where I live?” Was the dumbest question to follow up with, but it’s the one you chose to go with. 

“Yeah, right off Sanders. I drove you home when I first got my car, remember? You and Lori-” You cut him off, already jogging your own memory. You did not need to think about her again. “Right! Yeah… if you want to stop by and… hang out, I could use a reup. My p-parents aren’t home tonight.”

He’s silent on the other end for a brief beat. “Are you inviting me over for a sleepover? Should I bring my jammies, princess?”

He was always such a sarcastic asshole. But you could not help but laugh. “Yeah, bring yourself your own pillow and blanket, too. Don’t want you laying on mine.” “So we aren’t sharing your bed?”

You groan, acting annoyed with his comments and questions. “Just get your ass over here, Munson.” “I’ll be there in 10.”

-

He’s sat across the room in your giant red bean bag chair. He seems so at ease out of his usual environment. You watch him use the wooden stool you have had since you were a child as a way to prep his bong for you to hit it. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, your hands wedged between your legs nervously. He finally looks up at you, noting your odd positioning. “You good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head back and forth, “I’m good. Just… need to smoke.”

He gestures out a black lighter for you, bowing his head. “Come hither.”

You stand up, grabbing the lighter and sitting criss cross in front of the stool where he has set up shop. The glassware looks surprisingly clean. You pick it up slowly, not wanting to mess up the pack or drop it due to your nerves. Eddie watches you, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“You’re psyching me out.” He mutters, dusting his bangs away from his forehead a bit. Before he set up, you made sure to open your window right above him so the smoke would escape and not stink up your entire house. Your parents did not care all that much, but you did it out of respect. You did not need to rock the boat. 

“Sorry,” You bring the mouthpiece up to your lips, holding the neck. You had made the mistake of holding the base before and burnt the fuck out of yourself. You light the bowl piece, burning the weed as you suck in. When it bubbles enough, you pick up the piece to inhale. Once the smoke hits your throat and lungs, you try to not cough. But the burn hurts and you let loose. You put the bong down on the stool, lurching forward to cough until your lungs could recoup. 

“Jesus, princess. Never heard you cough so much,” He grabs the bong, inhaling the remaining smoke from your hit. You try not to laugh, mostly due to the fact that your throat feels like it’s on fire. “I don’t use bongs.”

He giggles at that before he puts the mouthpiece up to his lips and finishes off the bowl. 

He makes it look so easy, his Adam's apple bobbing as he inhales and slowly exhales the smoke. Once he does the one hit, he sits back in the bean bag, making a loud swoosh sound. 

“That’s gonna get me high quick, damn,” You say, already feeling the lightness behind your eyes. Your high usually started in your head, moving slowly down to your limbs, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. You were also always sporting bloodshot eyes and cottonmouth. Eddie grins as he relaxes into the chair. “We can smoke some more if need be. I have prerolls, too.” You walk to the opposite side of the room, pulling on the other random bean bag that you have stored in your room. You are almost positive this is the one your sister tore a hole in, but you needed something to sit on. You prop it right next to Eddie and the stool, settling in and staring at the ceiling.

“What do you do after you smoke?” You pose, trying to start light conversation so you did not spiral in front of him. You were not used to smoking with another person, so you had some unnecessary nerves. “You want honesty?” His voice breaks a bit before he clears his throat. As he says this, you realize the room is uncharacteristically quiet. To hide further conversation, you stand up and head to your record player. The resting record on the turntable is Fleetwood Mac, so that would just have to do. You turn it on, resting the needle on the edge of the record. The music flows through the room as you turn your head towards him. He has this shit-eating grin that could only hint that he does something mischievous or inappropriate.

“Yeah, go on.”

He first acts like he is thinking for a moment, but he knows his exact next words. They are on the very tip of his tongue, but he just wants to see if you pester him forward. The cat and mouse game seemed to be you two’s specialty at this point. He clears his throat, “I usually just jerk off.” You give him a disdainful glance, trying not to feel the knots tying themselves in the base of your stomach. “You’re gross.” “You asked!” You move the chair closer to him as you sit and lay back, “And hey, that’s not gross. Everyone does it.” You snort, turning your nose away from him. “You could have lied.” “What’s the fun in lying? I don’t lie to my friends.”

You would be lying if you said you did not like to hear that he considers you a friend. But teasing Eddie was your favorite hobby. “Oh, so we are friends?”

He shrugs, his face a bit twisted. “I’d like to think so.”

“Oh, okay.”

It is such a bland comment, you can tell he is squirming in his chair. He leans forward, pulling a baggie out of his pocket. You watch him place three pre rolls on the stool next to the bong. 

“What, you think I’m a freak like everyone else does?” As he says it, you watch him put a pre roll between his lips and fumble with the lighter, “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

Eddie’s reputation was a pivotal part of why you liked him more than everyone else at school. He liked what he liked and did not bend to anyone’s rules. He liked Dungeons and Dragons and the darker undertones of it. He dressed in all black and enjoyed the heavy metal. He was born and bred to be an outcast. 

And you loved it. 

You had to hide a good part of yourself from the outside world because your Bible Belt town would reprimand you if you dressed how you actually wanted to. You would have been ostracized by your friends you had known your whole life. 

So you put on the stupid act of being normal and wore what was in fashion. You only liked the things you did in private. 

“People think you are weird because of that Satanic shit they think you believe in,” You state, watching him take a drag from the joint. You pay attention to one of his rings specifically. A silver pig head, wrapped around his left middle finger. When your eyes flicker back to his, he takes note of you staring at his hands. “Oh, so you don’t think I’m a crazy satanist that deals drugs and is starting a blood drinking cult?” “If you were, I think we would have been way closer friends.”

The way you say it so matter-of-factly piques Eddie’s interest. He knew all along you were different. That’s why he liked you so much. Why he chose to mess around your best friend instead is forever a mystery. But he had now to make up for it. “Oh, so you’d be in my cult, that I’m actually starting?” He rasps, offering you the joint. You gladly accept it, bringing it to your lips before you respond. 

“For sure,” You exhale some smoke, eyes roaming all over his face. “What does this cult entail?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face is inches from yours and he tones down his voice, like you two are passing secrets. You extend the joint back to him, letting his fingertips grace yours as he grabs it. “Bunch of outcast freaks that wear robes and do insane rituals.” You scoff, thinking out the hypotheticals of this cult, “Human sacrifice, type shit?”

“No cult has ever been successful without some human sacrifice, princess,” His grin grows across his face as he scans you up and down. ”So, are you in?”

The weed only makes you bolder, bringing your body even closer, “Sounds like a great time to me.”

“Oh, it will be. You, me, some fuckin’ weirdos I find off the streets. Maybe you can be my right-hand woman. May need someone else to keep them all in check.”

His head shifts to look between your eyes and lips. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You not capable of doin’ that all by yourself?”

“Maybe,” He drags out the last syllable, ticking his tongue, “Just thought you’d wanna help is all.”

The thought sends shivers down your spine. But you try to act like his words have no effect on you, so you swallow shallowly and glance away. You want to say something that will drive him crazy, just to get one up on him. “I mean… I guess. As long as I get paid with a mass amount of drugs and ritualistic sex.” The last part of the sentence has him in a tizzy.

“Oh, that’s a given. You’ll be set for life.”

You clear your throat, the taste of weed reentering your mouth, “I’m hoping you have some good ideas for these rituals. I’m pretty useless.”

But you had plenty of ideas for him. And while you were truly into Eddie, you do not know if you would ever be bold enough to share those ideas out loud. You have read plenty of books, seen enough films, but you could never just outwardly say such obscene things to another person. Eddie’s lips quirk up, “I’ve got plenty of ideas, baby.”

The boldness he shows you gives you a rise. Your heart starts to beat fast, and before you can even really debate your next words, they spill out of your mouth.

“Enlighten me, leader.”

Eddie’s demeanor shifts completely. His brown eyes grow darker as he leans forward towards you, placing his large hand on your thigh. The touch sends goosebumps throughout your entire body, all the way up to your neck. His smirk changes into a mischievous grin.

“Enlighten you? You want me to show you all the things that are rattling around in my brain, sweetheart?”

The song stops and there’s a stillness that fills the room. The tension is thick like the marijuana smoke that radiates around your bedroom’s four walls. You place your hand delicately on top of Eddie’s. 

“Please.” You rasp, your eyes flickering all around his face. His nose, his slightly ajar lips, his doe eyes that show lust instead of innocence.

His hand slips behind the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and closer. Instead of meeting in the middle, you jump the gun pressing yourself closer and closing the gap. You could not stop yourself, you had to feel him against you. When your lips press against him, the sound from your throat brings him to be urgent with his movements.

When his tongue lips past your lips, you start to realize how dry your mouth really was. You always experienced cottonmouth, but with the way you were practically drooling for Eddie’s attention, you are surprised to offer your mouth and tongue to him and find them sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

You pull away, your hand still on his, squeezing it reassuringly, “My mouth is-” “I don’t care,” And he’s pulling you back into his lips. He could not care less if your mouth was dry or if your hair is sticking up weird because of where his hand is placed. He just needed to feel you against him. And you wanted the same.

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you across his lap. With the new position, you rest your hips on top of him and cradle his jaw with your hands. The kiss turns into him just giving you all of the saliva in his mouth, which you gladly take. His lips move at a perfect drawn-out pace. His hand adds more encouragement to your frenching, traveling all around your sides and hips. You retreat, pulling back for some air.

His eyes never leave yours as you settle onto his thighs as you catch your breath, your shorts riding up to your hips as you slide across him. 

“Tell me if I’m misinterpreting signs, sweetheart.”

You shake your head ‘no’, your arms slowly moving up from his chest to his shoulders. “Nothing to misinterpret, Munson.”

He gives you a smug grin, leaning his back further into the chair. His eyes trace down the curvature of your body, admiring you mounting his lap. 

“Do you need some water? Sorry, I just… you stopped kissing me so suddenly-” You shake your head, cutting him off. “Right above you on the windowsill…that water bottle. Just give me that.”

He steadies you on his lap by resting a firm grip on your waist as he extends his body upward to grab the plastic water bottle. While he shifts, you can feel his hardness against your thighs. Your lips purse in a half grin.

He grabs it, opens it for you, and gestures for you to lean your head back. “I can do it myself, dear,” You retort, trying to reach out for the bottle. He pulls it away, chuckling slyly to himself. “Let me do it.” It is the stupid banter like this that is making you fall so hard for him. Whether it’s the two of you on the phone, or hanging out in person, he always found a way to tease you or pick at you. 

You lean your head back slightly as he pours the perfect amount in your mouth. You swish it around, already feeling a lot better. The dryness will probably come back, but at least you had your own personal water fountain to supply you with more. You watch him screw the cap back on and put it next to him on the floor. His other hand returns to your waist, his touch lowering a bit more to your ass.

“So… you like this, right?” The question is so dumb and forward, you have to give him credit. For crying out loud, you are mounting his lap and wildly making out with him. You cannot help but laugh. “Yeah, dumbass.”

“Okay, good. I like this, too…”

“So…Is this just the sneak preview?” You jab, thinking back to the conversation you two were just having about starting a cult. You are slightly hinting that you would like more, but you do not know how to word it without sounding desperate.

Eddie is so in his own head, he looks at you confused. “What?”

“The ritualistic sex or whatever.”

He lifts you up swiftly, his palms raising you up by your asscheeks. You yelp, holding onto him for dear life. He chuckles as he walks you about 7 steps towards your bed. When he drops you, your arms flail backward to catch yourself landing with a bounce. He does not give you any time to recover, his hands running up the sides of your body, while his hips align with yours. His face breaks into something more mischievous. “Nah, this is just something I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time. The ritualistic sex will involve way more blood.”

You lace your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to your lips. You completely disregard the blood comment. That is a conversation for another time.  “You’ve wanted to do this for a while?” “Longer than I care to admit.” He captures your lips in another bruising kiss, his hand leaving your hip to cup your face. You eagerly offer your newly wet tongue to his accepting mouth. You are kissing each other like you are trying to suck the life out of him. You both tasted like weed which only added to the intoxication of the exchange. 

Your hands were roaming every part of his upper chest, your hand wrapping so perfectly around his neck and jaw. When he tilts your head back with his thumb to push your face upward so he can access your neck, you release him. He tuts, kissing your neck, “You wanna have your hands around my throat, baby?”

You can feel the wetness rush out of you, soaking your panties at the huskiness of his voice. “If you’re into that.”

He can feel his smile against you, lifting his face up to meet your eyes. 

“Very into that.”

The disposal of clothes happens in rapid succession. You watch him plop down in his boxers, while you have already removed your underwear. His eyes fly open at the realization that you are laying it all out there immediately. You are too high to give a fuck, watching his eyes scan you as you undo your bra in the back. 

“Are you fucking with your underwear on?” He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing at the question. “Uh, no. I just…” You lower yourself in front of him, feigning innocence as you rub his bare thighs. The tent in his boxers is fully apparent, waiting for you to take it in your hands. “You what? You want me to take them off for you?” His cocky smirk returns in full force. “If you’re into that.”

You notice his teasing tone, repeating your previous statement from moments before. You pull at the waistband of his boxers as he shifts himself so you can release him out of his confides. “Very into that.”

When his cock springs free, you practically gasp. The surprise on your face is all apparent and Eddie loves it. He looks at you through hooded lids, enjoying the sight of you taking him in your hands. You wrap around him so perfectly, jerking him off with slow methodical movements. You tilt forward, pressing your wet lips to his shaft. His lips form into an ‘o’ as you wrap your lips around his dick, taking him gradually into your mouth. He cannot stop staring at your actions. You are quick to switch it up on him when he gets too quiet for your comfort. You speed up your movements, the saliva you are finally making, starts dripping around his cock as you take him further into your throat. 

He slides so easily into your mouth, your high brain keeps thinking ‘God, he’s made for me’. It sounds so insane and a bit delusional, but you loved hearing him whimper as you continued to slurp up and down on his cock. “Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ good at that,” His voice is dripping with lust, “You keep goin’ and I’m cumming in that mouth.” You do one last slow up and down on him, releasing him from your mouth. “Need you inside me before you cum.”

You give him one last long, lingering lick up his shafter before pressing a tender kiss on the tip. He rolls his eyes back, his lips twisted up in a smile. “Dirty girl.” You stand up on your heels, stepping forward and mounting his lap again. His hands settle on your sides immediately, dragging you closer to him as you side further towards his knees. “You want a condom?” His dilated pupils cannot look away from your core hovering so close to his spit covered cock. “Do we need one?” You tilt his head up with your fingers. “You safe?” “Always.” “Good, then. I take a pill every morning. So unless you’re weird about fuckin’ raw-” He shakes his head, pressing his lips into yours to quiet your ramblings. You return the kiss, moaning into him as you draw your cunt closer to his erection. When you nudge him, he hisses.

“Fuck me how you want, princess.”

You give him a smug expression, lifting yourself up on your knees and reaching between your own legs. You feel for his cockhead, tilting it towards where your entrance is. You lower yourself slowly, eyes catching Eddie’s as he looks up at you. He looks so hot in this light, his jaw clenched, his gaze burning through you, his hair swept back over his shoulders. When his tip graces your core, you practically squeeze him without any penetration.

Once he’s right where you need him, you sink all the way down. The moans you both let out in unison is like music to your ears. You can practically hear your heartbeat in your ears as you lift up again and slam down, his watchful eye observing your actions. When you realize the intrusion will not hurt if you speed up, you push him onto his back. 

He grabs one of your pillows from the top of the bed, his wingspan somehow long enough to do such things. You enjoy watching him prop his head up to observe you, a devious smile on his face. He keeps his hands under his head, like he’s just enjoying the show. You settle your one hand on his stomach, the other on his chest, right below a tattoo of what appears to be a demon head. 

“Your tattoos are so random,” You babble, spreading your fingers over the art.

He tilts his head, still just appreciating the way your tits sit over him. “You are not very good at dirty talk, sweetheart.”

You grimace at his comment, dragging your hips forward which allows your clit some stimulation while he’s inside you. “My apologies. I’ll stick to the normal buzzer words.”

He rolls his eyes initially but once you raise your hips up to bounce on him, he forces his eyes closed. 

You grin, your hands resting a bit further up his chest, slowly creeping your way up to his pretty little neck. His guitar pick necklace is a staple in his appearance, but right now it was just in your way. You continue your movements, finally resting your hand right below his Adam’s apple. He reveals his brown eyes again when you tighten your grip, his expression indicating that he is enjoying you like this.

You are starting to feel weak in your knees as you fuck yourself on him, but you are not a quitter and it feels too good to stop. You balance one hand on his chest, the other one constricting more of his airways. The way he heaves under you sends a shockwave right to your clit. The stimulation is becoming almost too much, but you clench your pelvic muscles, edging yourself.

“Oh my god,” You whine, finally returning to just sliding yourself back and forth on his pelvis, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie.”

You release his throat, allowing him to catch his breath. “I can feel you gripping me so good, baby.”

Eddie moves his hands up your legs, clutching onto the sides of your hips first, before massaging the flesh right below your boobs. When they travel to toy with your nipples, you can feel the urgent flood of your orgasm hit the pit of your stomach. You roll your eyes back, lulling your head back as your hips stutter against his. As you jerk your body across him, you can feel his dick twitching inside you. Your vision is a bit clouded as you fix your gaze back on the man below you. 

You feel his hands roughly grab your hips, practically rag dolling you to the spot next to him. He fixes himself between your legs, slotting his cock back into your cunt. “I’m so close but I need to go at my pace.”

“Eddie, I’m so sensitive,” You mewl, your hands rubbing your eyes to regain some of your normal function back. The endorphins from the sex is intertwining weirdly with the high you already have, which makes your body feel like it’s only a matter of time before you are cumming all over him again. 

“I know, baby, but I know you got more in you. One more? You think you can do that for your leader?”

You gasp when he grinds himself into you. You cannot even say anything back to the horniest thing he has said all night because the feeling of him fully sheathed inside you again has your head spinning. He starts with a slower pace that only speeds up when you are moaning his name over and over again. You then realize, he will, in fact, have you cumming again. 

He reaches up under your knee, slotting it right in the bend of his arm. He slowly starts to raise it up in the air to plow into you from a different angle, stretching you further and further to your limit. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead, as he continues to chase his release. He opens you up some more by spreading your leg out more. You watch as he licks his thumb and stares down at your swollen clit. You know what he’s about to do and you may just lose your mind. He slots his finger right on top of your sensitive bud and presses, rubbing methodical circles. 

“Cum, baby, I know you wanna.”

You gasp, letting the orgasm take over every nerve ending in your body. The way you clench down on him sends him into overdrive. His grunts fill the room, while you are silently writhe under him, unable to catch your breath from the explosion of your climax. The feeling of you seizing around his cock makes him drop your leg lazily and drop on top of your naked body. 

He holds onto you like you are the only thing anchoring him in reality as he fucks his seed deep inside you. 

Your sweaty bodies lace around each other as you both regain your composure. His weight is pressing you deeply into the mattress, so you languidly pat his shoulder. 

“Squishing me, Munson.”

He presses up into a push up to look at you, his hair falling over your face. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He rolls onto his side, his half hard cock slipping out of your pussy, dragging some of his cum out with it. You can feel him dripping out of you, which is an absolutely surreal experience. He settles beside you, still huffing a bit. “Well… That was…”

You did not really have the right adjective to explain your feelings about the entire ordeal. You were definitely satisfied. More than you ever had been before. 

Eddie smacks his lips, pushing some hair away from his eyes. “Incomparable. On my part, at least.”

You sneer, trying your best to clear out the rasp you feel in your throat. Your mouth is starting to feel dry all over again. You think for a moment, wondering if you should give in and share that it was the best sex you have ever had or just act nonchalant. 

“Yeah, definitely something,” You remark dryly. You wanted banter with him, it was only fitting after such sacrilege.

He looks at you with a half-grin, his eyes scanning down your body for a beat. When he gets to your chest, he just stares at your tits while he speaks. 

“Not annoying. And not flat-chested. Just perfect,” He taunts, reaching out to tweak one of your nipples, “I was right, you were wrong.”

He always has to one up you. You lean forward, resting your palm on your bed as you get in his sphere. “I’m not joining your cult. You are too cocky and I think you will get too power hungry.”

His finger still toys with your chest as you speak, the words just sliding right off his shoulders. 

“Power hungry? No, no, no,” He places his hand right in the center of your chest, the coldness of his rings sending shockwaves up your arms, “The only thing I’m ever gonna be hungry for is you, my dear.”

You shake your head, propping yourself on your elbow as you stare down at him. “Apparently you have been for a while… According to what you said earlier.”

That comment tickles him. He finally chuckles, leaning up so he’s millimeters from your lips. 

“Guilty as charged.”

His mouth presses back onto yours, tongue and all. It finally brings back some moisture back into your mouth. Maybe you didn’t need the damn water bottle. Maybe you just needed him to keep kissing you.

tags of ppl i love and who may wanna read, idk:

@hauntedhowlett @pedgito @hockeyhughes @chaotic-mystery

[godhandler]

Tokyo Day 

| s. geto x reader, mentions of n. zenin x reader, infidelity, angst, fluff ending, geto is an unstable maniac in love as he was created to be, porn with serious plot, 2k words, part 4 | FIN.

previous series masterlist

“A younger you would’ve spat in your face if she saw you now.”

The plates stacked neatly outside your suite door, you and Suguru sit in the tub, him scrubbing your back. Warm lavender-scented water lap at your natural nakedness. The designer of this Modern Japanese suite must have been anything but Japanese, you muse. Why else would they set the ¥ 142,500 bathroom walls to mimic cheap public baths? 

These two things are polar apart. They could never be the same. One holds dignity, pride, excellence, and the other is like you. 

You wonder what Suguru means by his words. No question, you were beaten down by life. White ashes, leftovers of the blazing hurricane you were a decade ago. Was that the crime your former self would detest you for? It wasn’t like you planned to lose yourself, it just happened because that’s how life played out. 

You imagine a freckle-faced 15 year old questioning you– Why don’t you get a sorcerer job and become independent? 

Naobito would never let you see your son again then. 

Then why did you even have a kid?

It wasn’t your choice. Naobito wanted a kid. 

Why did you marry that jackass? 

Mom needed money and you couldn’t get a job. 

She’d just be confused, you think. You used to get so mad when adults told you things like – ‘oh you’re too young, you won’t get it’, but now you think they were right. To some degree. You’d understand, sure. But you hadn’t suffered enough to empathise. 

Why don’t you kill yourself?

My son. 

“Earth to the lady.” He massages your soapy neck, thumbs pressing into the right parts that hurt the most. Foam catches onto your locket. 

“A younger Suguru would’ve set his dragon on you if he saw you now,” you reply. No venom in your words. Just stating factual truths.

“Because we were stupid kids.” He smiles. “We were stupid kids who thought we knew everything. I thought I could have everything.” He leans down to kiss your neck from behind you. “I thought I could have you.”

Lost glory, tears turn your eyes cloudy. “Have me.” 

The spot where his lips touched your skin burns even after he washes all the soap off. 

You sit on the edge of the tub, Suguru towelling your feet dry on the heated floor. “My body’s not like it used to be,” you tell him, an apology in your tone that he frowns at. “After the pregnancy, I mean. I envy men. You look just as good as you did back then, even better, if anything.”  

“You look perfect, darling. I have scars too.” 

“And abs.” 

“Pardon me for having abs,” he grins, pressing kisses to your foot. “How could I ever make up for the crime of having abs?” 

You kick him lightly in jest, but he simply grabs your heel and kisses your calf instead. “You look like a mother should. Why is that bad? We’re not kids anymore. I’m happy that you lived a life and your body shows it. I just-” he kisses your knee. “- wish that you lived it with me.” 

“I wish he was yours,” you confess, sighing as Suguru parts your knees and buries his face in there. “My son. You should’ve been the father. Should’ve been my husband, my groom at the altar.” 

“Tell me more.” He briefly comes up for air before resuming his work. Master of your body, he draws his skill from both an archive of memories he hasn’t used in a decade and natural instinct that just knows. Soul-mate. 

You keen from divine pleasure, Suguru feasting on the taste of you to his heart’s content. You can feel his rock hard cock pressing against your leg. “We could do our hair similarly. I always thought lilies would go so well in your hair bun. We’ll wear cream white and ivory with just a hint of gold.” 

“How about a spring wedding? We’ll get a venue filled with cherry blossom trees.” 

“Yes! Ah-” Soft bathroom lighting catches on the edge of his jaw as he sucks on your clitoris, two fingers curled deep inside you. Searching around for that sweet spot… here or here or here– found it. “-Oh, Suguru!” 

“Keep talking,” he orders. “Darling.”

You gasp in between each word, trying to think of anything other than the burning pleasure flooding through you. “All- ah- our friends would be in attendance. Too much, oh, Suguru! Sigh- Nanako and Mimiko could be the ring bearers, Naosuke the flower boy.” 

His grasp on your waist is so tight, his nails mark your skin into little crescents. “I want another in your belly by that time.” He promises, “Have you pregnant under your pretty pretty wedding dress. Mark you mine.” 

Suguru cannot stop smiling like a fool when you grab the back of his head and hump your orgasm out on his face. 

“Wanna be mine so bad, darling?” His taunting words so unlike his gentle kisses as he carries you to the bedroom, his tongue still warm from the depths of your sweet cunt. You can’t help but moan. “Want to have my kids? Be with me forever?”

He places you into the bed soft as the most precious crystal in the world that he’s finally got his hand on after with much cost and yearning. His. You’re his. 

“I’ve been faithful, Suguru.” The diamond between your collarbones could almost trick him into thinking it’s true. Naobito Zenin’s wedding ring, chucked out of sight under furniture, still exists in the same reality as you two. Not that either of you were thinking about it. “Always been yours.”

Suguru kisses you over and over again, buried in your arms as he smooths your hair away from your face with his large hand. Sunk in you, surrounded by pillow fluff and warm blankets. The bedsheet is soft uncrinkled silk, made to be enjoyed sex on. It feels like he’s been out travelling the world for a decade and is just one step away from entering home. 

He thinks that you mouth ‘I love you’ before your face scrunches up through the sting of penetration. So pretty, so perfect, all his now. 

“I love you more,” a whisper that drowns under your cry as he pushes fully inside you. Snug fit, flesh made for each other. 

He can’t not bring up your husband, no matter how much it’ll hurt you. “Does he feel like me?” He thrusts harder, your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. “Tell me, darling, does he?”

“He’s busy with his whores, thank fuck.” You reply, lightly pulling his hair to punish his unfounded jealousy. “At my luckiest, I see him once a month.” 

“I’ll kill him, I swear on your life.” 

“I would’ve done that myself if not for Naosuke. Besides, I’ve kept you with me.” 

It must be some telepathic connection because he immediately understands what you mean. It was a gag gift from Satoru 13 years ago when you had first started dating. A clone-your-penis kit, where you poured black silicone into a mould of Suguru’s dick and created your own homemade dildo. You used to hit Suguru on the head with it back then. 

“The scandal,” Suguru grins, “The Head Lady Zenin fucking herself on a silicone cock of her former lover. Did you enjoy that, darling? Cucking that old man? If you missed me that much, you should’ve just come to me.” He kisses you again, his rhythm messing up as he gets closer to finishing. “I keep waiting for you to come.” 

“Don’t pull out.” You tell him. 

“Of course not.” He replies. He doesn’t. 

Wrapped up in his arms, his full weight pressing you down, you pray that it takes. You pray so hard. You don’t know if you’ll see him again. The very thought of having to go back to your real life now, to put on the ring and hide the locket under your blouse, to serve dinner to the husband waiting back home and lay under him at night– the very thought makes you want to drown yourself in the bathtub. 

Again came the question you could not answer: what was your original sin? That at the critical juncture, what was the wrong choice– to run to the arms of a genocidal maniac or to meekly submit to the socially correct match?

Why, when you picked the right option 10 years ago, are you this miserable?

“Will you come?” He laughs stupidly at his own pun, all strength sapped out for the time being. “Seriously, will you?”

“Will you come, Suguru? Could you leave it all behind? Just run away with me, love and honour me?” You ask, “Marry me?”

Kitten-like, Suguru softly squeezed a breast, thinking. How could he love and honour you if he didn’t even love and honour himself? And how could he love and honour himself if he willingly chose to not be himself? Close his eyes and turn his back to the duty he was put on Earth to do? Accept defeat? Be weak?

No. you both knew that. No. At the end, it came out a no. 

But– “I could marry you.” He decided. The kind of decision that only the strong are allowed to take. “Who could stop me? I want you. I want to have you.”

“My son, he–”

“I would raise him as my own. I’d give him my name– Geto. Both of you will be mine. Our son, our daughters. How does that sound?” Rhetorical question, because Suguru has already decided that it sounds exactly like what he wants. 

“His birthday is soon, right, darling? We’ll have his renaming ceremony together as well. Wonder what technique he’ll have? Ha- the Zenins would only waste him, better off that I train him myself.” 

“Suguru, it’s too fast, I think.”

“I don’t.” 

He waits for you to debate him. You weren’t blind to his wrongdoings. You couldn’t even read the report from his last mission without vomiting from the pictures of the devastation he caused. Rotting bones, half-charred people, a whole village burnt off the map. And yet–

“Was I wrong? Darling, look me in the eye and tell me that I was wrong, that my logic or actions do not make sense, and I swear on your life that I will give it all up.” 

“... Your morals are wrong.”

“But am I wrong?” 

Is he? Is this the wrong decision? You’ve already made one in the past, but that was actually the right one which turned out to be wrong. Hell, is there even anything like a right or wrong decision? 

“No.” 

Suguru cleans you both up. After a quick cuddled-up nap and a light sashimi filler, you had to part. He was travelling back with his daughters and you could not stay the night without your son, who would cry and cry till he saw you. 

He walks you back to your Volvo, a spring in his step. He’s accomplished a lot before dinner today. “In case the cuck bothers you,” he nods to the detestful ring back on your finger, “kill this little bug-curse I’ve planted in your locket. I’ll know, and I’ll be right there before you blink an eye. Though I don’t doubt you can handle yourself.” 

Suguru opens the car door for you, kissing you a long goodbye right in front of the Zenin servants. Not that they dare flicker a glance at your direction, what with the leech-curse still wrapped around the car till Suguru called it back. “Remember our promise, guys?” He reminds them cheerfully. 

“Get home safe, darling. Bye-bye!” 

He’s still waving to your car disappearing into the distance when his own car reaches. “Woahhh– Mimiko, look, Geto-sama’s face is all red and happy!”

“Thanks for getting us the canvases, Geto-sama. Nanako, isn’t it obvious, he’s having hot flushes. Because he’s old.” 

“Thanks, Mimiko.” He replies, good mood unbroken by teenage girls. “How was the school trip? How did you like Tokyo?”

“It was okay. We just went to see shrines, like we don’t have more than enough of them in Kyoto,” Nanako replied. Mimiko was pulling out the cute plushies she bought to show him. “You lived here back when you were young, right? What about you, Geto-sama, did you have a good day?” 

“Oh,” he smiles, hugging his daughters to him. “Just the best.”

As they set off for home, Manami driving again and the girls asleep after their long day, Geto Suguru, victor of the day, taps on his iPhone: 

text when you reach 

see you tmr 

I love you 

previous series masterlist

[rarepairdumpster]

Firelight Viktor AU Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Realizations, Sexual Tension, Disability Talk, Viktor deserves all the mobility aids

It takes a long time for Viktor to trust Silco. Longer than Silco expected, honestly.

Viktor is like a stick in the mud when it comes to trusting people. He doesn't give it easily. It takes hard work to ease it out.

It had taken over a year of working together for him to really trust Jayce, after all. And look where that got him.

Silco at least seems committed to gaining Viktor's trust. He notices Silco never makes promises he doesn't intend to make good on, and he's kinder than Viktor expected. 

He takes Viktor's suggestion to set up a free clinic in one of the old factories, and it's where Viktor visits often to see how he really is helping the undercity.

The first time he visits, it makes him emotional, because their are old grannies, etc, thanking the workers for helping with their joints. For the medicine. Saying they've had a new lease of life in the last week, etc

He notices their lack of mutations.

And when he asks one of the workers, they make an offended face and explain "Taking too strong a dose over long periods is what causes the mutations. We know the guidelines for administrating it."

Viktor smiles a little at the seriousness that the workers take their jobs. "I'm glad to hear it," Viktor nods. It makes him happy to know that Silco chose good people to hire.

When he gets back home, Viktor has a little cry, and pulls out an old tattered photo of his mother. Wishes he'd been older. Wishes she'd lasted longer. Wishes he'd met Silco sooner.

It's not long before Viktor realizes he's spending more time in the undercity than in Piltover. He keeps making excuses to not be in the lab as if Jayce isn't making similar ones for political ventures, and finds walking the streets topside to be increasingly uncomfortable.

Keeps hearing not-even-remotely-hushed remarks about uppity sumprats daring to ask for a new lift, for water purifiers, etc, and answering outbursts of "ungrateful trenchers"

"As if we havent spent enough money on them already"

Unkind comments about The Industrialist.

Viktor isn't eating very much at him and Silco's, now, weekly dinner at the last drop. All their words keep swirling in his head and it makes him sicker than he already is.

"What is it?" Silco asks, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

"I don't think I can keep going back there," Viktor answers quietly, not look at him. He pushes some food around his plate with his fork. "The things I hear up there....its sickening. And I hear it more now than ever."

Silco nods. "I have somewhere for you to stay. When you're ready."

Viktor flushes a little. "I think I'm far from ready to stay with you."

"No, of course not," Silco chuckles. "I had a townhouse prepared when I first recruited you. I wanted you down here full time, if you recall."

"A townhouse," Viktor repeats, bemused. "Haven't heard that term used down here before." 

Silco smirks, eyes glinting. "You'd be amazed at the difference knocking a few walls, a fresh coat of paint, and some good furnishings, can make."

"You had that prepared for me?" Viktor asks, a little surprised that Silco went through all that trouble. "And kept it?"

"I had a feeling you would need it one day," Silco explains, taking a drink. "And I'm usually right."

Viktor can't tell if he wants to touch Silco's hand in thanks or kick him under the table for the presumption

"I need another week," Viktor decides. "To gather my things and make arrangements." 

"I'll send a truck whenever you're ready," Silco nods. 

Viktor stares at his food, then up at Silco. "I...Thank you."

"What for?"

"Treating me like a person," Viktor explains. "Like I matter."

Silco frowns like he's actually baffled.

"How else would I treat you?"

"It's just that you were right about everything. My friends, my job...everything." Viktor chuckles sadly. "You're the only one that's stayed consistent in how you've treated me."

Silco's lips thin. Just for a moment.

"I don't relish being right about such things, Viktor," Silco says quietly. "You must know that. If a man deserves anything, it's to be confident his friend has his back. No matter what."

"Then, I'm glad to have you," Viktor smiles, even though he can feel tears stinging his eyes, "as a friend."

Silco almost startles, but contains himself. 

Instead....he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief.

Offers it without a word.

Viktor dabs his eyes and thanks Silco, taking a few deep breaths before speaking again. 

"I should go. I have things to prepare."

Let me escort you, Silco thinks, but he doesn't give voice to it. 

Viktor is still too entangled with the firelights for that.

It only takes Viktor a couple days to gather his meager things from his small apartment and make sure that only what he wanted remained on record at the academy. 

He called Silco for the moving vehicle early and was a little embarrassed when all he had to put in the large truck was a small end table, his shower chair, and a couple crates of personal items.

The truck driver gives the contents a funny, half-irritated look, but shrugs. Whatever. Silco is paying for the fuel and his time, so who cares.

Silco is there to greet him when they pull in front of the house. It's nestled between two much taller buildings but still contains the winding brass and chemtech accents native to Zaun. Viktor hasn't seen anything so magnificent that was his.

Silco glances at the limited contents that the driver heaves out of the truck and he raises a brow. "I suppose its a good thing this place is fully furnished."

Viktor looks away, embarrassed. "The academy provided my previous apartment and furnishings. I had planned to get my own things eventually but...nothing ever seemed right."

Silco hums, and suspects he knows why, but doesn't comment. He just opens his palm and reveals the key

Viktor hesitates a moment before taking the key, letting his fingers brush along Silco's palm. "Thank you, again."

"No need." Silco smirks. "I get as much out of this arrangement as you do."

"I'm not sure about that," Viktor chuckles trying to hide the flush of his cheeks. Gods, the crush he had been developing on the man just kept growing. He just hopes that some day he'll have the courage to do something about it. 

"Are you busy?" Viktor asks, a little hopeful. "I could make some tea."

Silco gives him a once-over, and Viktor feels like he got caressed from ankle to throat  "I could drink."

Viktor goes to grab one of his boxes and Silco stops him with a hand on his upper arm. 

"Let them take care of it," Silco smiles. "You've had a long day." 

Viktor nods and goes to the door, opening  it for the first time

The brief touch on his arm lingers, a phantom sensation, warm and tingling.

When he opens the door, he sees that most of the furnishings are covered, but the amount of space is more than Viktor has ever occupied. 

"I do have one thing to show you," Silco smirks, a glint in his eye. He walks forward into the house, looking back to make sure Viktor is following him. He winds his way to the back of the house, near the kitchen, where a small lift was tucked away. "I knew relying on stairs all the time would be difficult for you."

Viktor draws in an unsteady breath. A personal lift? In his house?

Silco was spoiling him.

Silco is a bit hesitant at Viktor's silence. "I understand if I was being too presumptuous or--"

When Viktor's hands fly around his chest and he feels the warm heat of Viktor's body against him, he goes stiff for a moment before letting his arms wind around Viktor as well.

Almost like he can't help himself, Silco tucks his face into Viktor's neck and inhales.

Viktor isn't usually one for acting out of emotion, but no one had ever thought of him like this. His leg and back were an inconvenience and a problem to be fixed.

But Silco saw him.

"I'm sorry, I..." Viktor couldn't bring himself to pull away from the warm embrace. Not yet.

"It's alright."

Silco ends up being the one to part them, the temptation too strong when his lips were so close to the skin of Viktor's neck.

"I believe I was promised tea," Silco gives Viktor a soft smile, his hands resting on the boys shuulders

"Ah. Yes." Viktor flushes. "Right."

Arch + Woods

[borzoibabe]

couldn't stop rage-thinking about the absolutely bonkers amount of customers who ask at my job, multiple times a day, if the "waffles" on our menu are "waffle fries" and i explain that no, waffles are waffles, and still get back confused looks. i've worked there 3 years, i've almost certainly been asked "are 'waffles' waffle fries?" at least a thousand times. i am tired. i am angry. and i wanted to know if maybe, just maybe, waffles are a much more niche regional thing than i was aware. maybe this is a common occurrence across the country and maybe i'm the only idiot who knows what a waffle is. and for the first time in my life, i was thrilled to see a google ai summary, because even ai thinks it's the dumbest question it's ever heard.

how do you explain what a waffle is, to someone who seemingly has never heard the term "waffle" except in the context of waffle fries? "it's like a pancake but squarer." that one doesn't work well. there's no good way to explain waffles without sounding condescending. "have you ever been to a hotel that does the serve yourself continental breakfast? you know how they have the griddles with kind of a square grid pattern? and you take a scoop of the mixed batter and pour it on the griddle and close it and set it for three minutes and then open it back up and it's now golden and crispy?" you're 55 years old, jim. you've lived in this city your whole life. i know you know what a waffle is. i know you know what a waffle is. i know you know what a waffle is.

[youngwonhui]

✦ live on my knees, make you see | ch. 3

*•. member: choi seungcheol x afab reader

*•. genre: angst, strangers to lovers; kinda, corporate and family drama, life and misunderstanding happened in general; eventual smut

*•. wc: 10,986

*•. warnings: MDNI, smut late in the chapter

*•. cross posted in AO3

*•. masterlist

tag list: @lol6sposts

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

It was lunch as you were making your way through the office building’s backyards when a figure stops you midsteps. Just when you thought things were smooth sailing on your job, there’s always another thing—or in this case person who just there to make everything feels like hell.

“Do you think you could ruin my reputation and then live happily ever after?”

“If you have some shred of reputation you certainly wouldn’t be doing this would you?” You steadied your stance, the figure who turns out to be your old boss makes their way to approach you.

“I know a type just like you. Acting all justified, high and mighty, like you’re the boss of this place. But i ruin people just like you with a flick of my hand you know that!” Hands on his hips as his voice raises abruptly along with his emotion.

It’s getting really hard for you to be the bigger person.

“Then your reputation certainly spoke too low of you. As you turns out to be a bigger bitch than i know.”

“I have friends in higher ups you know! Do you think i’ll be doing this thing alone? You’re a dead meat, i’ll make sure you’re never be working again in this industry.”

At times like this, you secretly thank yourself for having a workplace experience as diverse as you have. Empty emotional threat now bounce off of your skin like this. What’s hard is not to react to this kind of idiocy. Blurting out words like there are no consequences. Trying to suppress a smile, your eyes remain to the huffing and puffing figure of your ex-boss in front of you.

Seeing the lack of reaction from you, his anger grew and begin to walk closer to you. Hands raised and you were ready to cover yourself when a loud bang suddenly heard from above.

“You better think twice before doing what you’re thinking of doing.”

You recognize those voice. Seuncheol’s word booming deep and aloof but still carrying those authority that commands the room. Or in this case, the backyards. Strangely the action somewhat amaze you. Painting Seungcheol in a whole new light. You scold yourself for thinking such a thing at time as dire as now.

Just like most other time in your smoke break, Seungcheol are perched on his window. Facing down like some sort of modern time rapunzel. You almost chuckle if not for the rigid expression displayed on Seungcheol’s face. Gone was the relaxed curved of his brow as well as the ever-so-present pout on his lips. Only unfamiliar lines on top of the face who brought you comfort.

“Who the fuck you think you are?!” Your ex-boss yelled to Seungcheol. His hand pointing angrily as a new wave of anger brew over Seungcheol’s words.

“It doesn’t matter who i am, now take a step back and away to wherever gutter you came from before i send out all the recording of you committing your crime to the authority. Heck i could even charge you for harassment.” Seungcheol muttered his last sentences, a smirk playing on his lips. Although there’s nothing playful in said smirk. His statement though, sets the same curiosity from you as well as the angry man by your side.

“What fucking recording are you talking about?”

“The backyards as well as the backstreet alley are fully equipped with cctv,” Seungcheol jerked his head to make a point. You automatically looks around and surely, true to Seungcheol’s word there are several cameras you could make out just with one quick glance. “So before you tries to embarrass yourself even more, just step back and be gone.”

“Y-you don’t have the right!! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!!”

“I own this fucking building, i can do whatever the fuck i want.”

This is taking too much of your time and your lunch break ended ten minutes ago.

“Please do yourself a favour and don’t start any ruckus. Not here and not certainly at the office.” You tries to suppress a smile as you passed the frozen figure of your ex-boss.

Ducking your head slightly, you made your way back inside. A sigh of relief when you couldn’t hear any footsteps following you.

You have many things to talk with Seungcheol.

\\

Before you knock for the second time, Seungcheol already opened his door. The smile displayed on his face are the polar opposite he’s shown you earlier today.

You only shot him a look before stepping inside his apartment confidently, acknowledging the little steps that follows you. Of course Kkuma is on your side now. Arriving at his sofa, you sat with a huff before crossing your arm. Wasting no time, Seungcheol filled the space beside you. Kkuma already scooped in his arms.

“Now, are you up for pizza or just some snack? My friend gifted me a lego set please help…” Seungcheol’s words trailed down as he notices your state of silence. Your gaze still set to the coffee table to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

“Are there any other thing you forgetting to talk to me? Other than the fact that you own this place?”

“What? My house?” Seungcheol’s smile grew bigger, the dimple almost lure you out of your will to confront him.

“You’re being funny right?” You almost balked. “You owned this whole building and just casually mentioned it when my ex-boss are confronting me? Which, that i can handle on my own by the way.” Your slight dig at his action didn’t go unnoticed by Seungcheol.

“I trusted that you can handle it gracefully, it’s just that i’ve seen enough of that man using the place as a designated space to bully people.” Seungcheol’s reasoning makes sense to you. Your boss has been in the company for much longer time than you. Who knows what nasty deeds he’s done to an innocent employee far from the office scrutiny and to Seungcheol’s very own ‘backyards’. “Besides, you should’ve decked them right from the start. We could maybe file for self-defense as we send in the footage as evidence.”

“You’re joking right?”

“Maybe. I like making you laugh.” You rolled your eyes at his words, the smirk on his face only grew bigger.

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re dating this impossible.” Now it’s your turn to smirk at Seungcheol’s words. A playful tug on your lips that piqued Seungcheol’s interest.

Dramatically turning to your face him, Seungcheol only laughs at your antic. Kkuma now has escaped her father’s grip and fleeing somewhere. Little pats of footsteps echoing the room.

“Are we dating?” In turns, Seungcheol almost balked at your question. His lips stuttered to make any answer and failed cutely. “I don’t recall you asking me of such question.”

Scoffing out a laugh, Seungcheol remained by his disposition as your smirk are threatening to blow into an all out laugh.

“Do you not want to be? Dating me?” Seungcheol’s words are accompanied by his hand slowly snaking around your waist. He knows firsthand that you’re immune to a surprise tickle attack. So you secretly anticipate where he’s going for his next move.

“I don’t think that’s the proper question?” Your further teasing only sends Seungcheol’s annoyance higher. A small noises of disapproval as he rolls his eyes. Half-defeated as he lay back to the sofa while his hand still holding tight to your side.

On a stretched silence, you bit your lower lip instinctively when you notice how close you have ended up by Seungcheol's side. Your eyes are quick to notice the sliver of smirk on Seuncgheol’s lips. But it was beaten by how quick he steers your body on top of him and positioning you to straddle him. Your own hands flew to grab a hold of his shoulder. It almost knock the breath out of you, but the smile that rewarded to you are almost impossible to reject.

“Okay Y/n, here’s the question. Would you like to go out with me? Officially.” Seungcheol’s voice lured you closer. With each and every word, you found yourself lessening the space between the two of you. Until your lips hovering barely a centimetre before his.

“On one condition. Never hide anything from me, ever again.”

Your whispered words slowly tapered to silence. Capturing Seungcheol’s lips with a replied sigh. There’s a new and certain affinity to cup his cheek for you. Feeling the muscles twitch and spasm as he kiss you back with the same ferocity. There’s an additional glee when your thumb meets his dimple. Growing deeper with his smile.

Familiarizing yourself with the new side of Seungcheol, the one that grip you so gently while leaving trails of burning with his every touch.

Pulling away from Seungcheol’s kiss was the hardest. You blinked to the sight of half-lidded Seungcheol. Ultimately in the same state of you, it brought a sense of pride in your chest. Your delicate touch traces one dimple, down to his chin, and to his other dimple. It felt like an enough point to make. Despite your enjoyment of such intimate times, you meant your every words for Seungcheol to never keep another secret from you.

It goes unnoticed. The weight of Seungcheol’s every nod.

\\

“Y/n, are you sure that you’re safe?”

Chan’s question came days later, while eating lunch together with your team at the new ramen place that just opened up nearby.

“Why should i not be?”

“Come on, Y/n we all heard of ‘you-know-who’ came to the office a few days ago.” Jisun added.

“And we all know he was looking for you.” Soyeon finished.

“One, i am capable of protecting myself. Two, none of us are going to be in any harm. Three, if anything we got a new evidence to incriminate him further.” You give a pointed look to each of the three. Sending the subtle order to bear no worries and just kept with the lunch.

The three shared a look before continuing so. It was not long until Chan exclaiming his delight of the tasty noodles with that you best can describe as aggressive frown.

“Just out of curiosity,” Jisun questions, chopsticks struggling to reach for a piece of the tempura. Soyeon easily grabs it and putting it in Jisun’s dish. “How do you even manage to get more evidence to incriminate ‘you-know-who’.”

“Let’s just say, the building’s security are cooperating well to maintain peace and safety.” Clearly you weren’t joking. But the thought of Seungcheol that day brought a rush in your vein and a giddy feeling in your smile. So you wouldn’t blame your coworker of thinking that you’re just being silly.

Fisnishing with the lunch, you decided to scrap your smoking break when you see the time. Heading up to the office together, the three friends are in the middle of very deep conversation regarding a hypothetical roommate of a rat. Simply amazed, you haven’t paid attention to your surrounding. Completely incognizant of the figure in a baggy t-shirt and a big fluffy bucket hat. Loitering around the front of your office.

But you were aware enough of Chan who suddenly stopped midway of his convincing argument.

“I see, is this how the building’s security keeping the peace and safety?” Chan’s words eventually makes you realize of Seungcheol’s appearance.

“Oh, Seungcheol?” Wordlessly, Seungcheol made his way to you. A smile and a cup of coffee in his hand. “Wait, Chan, you know him?”

“Y/n, we work here longer than you do. We at least know who own this building.” Soyeon’s answer didn’t surprise you. If Chan knows, consider that Jisun and Soyeon know as well.

“We also knows who kept making their way upstair-” Jisun’s teasing words are cut short as Seungcheol is barely two meters away. Rendering you in loss of words as the other two quickly tries to dismiss their friend’s unfinished words and hurriedly leaves you with Seungcheol.

Placing the coffee in your hand, Seungcheol plant a quick kiss which you reply with a playful slap to his chest. Seungcheol only mouthing ‘what’ with a shit eating grin, while you’re craning your head to scope anyone who you might know that could be seeing you.

“You weren’t smoking downstairs after lunch, so i decided to come here. Just in case.” A sense of accomplishment colouring Seungcheol’s words.

“Now, what if i hadn’t walk out here?”

“I would just call you.”

“What if i’m in a meeting?”

“I could drop this at the receptionist. They look kind enough to bring this to you. As well as some lengthy message.”

“What if i wasn’t even at the office?”

“Then, i got a coffee for me. You can’t make me lose Y/n. And yes, i have the answer for everything.” Seungcheol slips his hingers to your vacant hand. Still smiling like he won a prize in a candy shop.

“Fine then Mr-Have-The-Answer-For-Everything. Are there anything you want from me? Because It’s way past the lunch break.”

You can see how Seungcheol’s lips grow gradually tighter. As if he’s preparing himself to do, or to say something you might not accept. At the same time you also prepares yourself. The silence and the heat from his touch lingers among the ticking seconds.

“It’s Hansol. He asked me to tell you that he wants to meet you.”

Seungcheol kept his eyes to you. Unwavering gaze like he’s keeping you within his reach just in case you crumble like that night you met Hansol. In return, you took a deep breath and squeeze Seungcehol’s hold for support. You can feel his trust, in every actions he’s shown you. It makes you feel grateful to have met him through these circumstances. It builds your own trust to him as well.

“Thank you for relaying the message. Can i give you the answer tonight?” A smile instantly lit up in Seungcheol’s face at your answer/question.

“You could take all the time you need.” Seungcheol pulld you into a hug. In which you melted into it like a warm blanket at a cold night. “You know where i am, and i’m always one call away.”

As he pulls away, you smiles before kissing him. Weights hanging in your every steps as you make your way back to the office. Seungcheol holding tight to your fingers isn’t helping much. Yet eventually you left him with a ghost of smile. And a question lingering in your mind.

\\

“You’ll tell me if i make a mistake right?” Your voice are barely a whisper, yet Seungcheol can hear it from across his living room.

“I will. Even though i doubt that you would. And so does Hansol.” Seungcehol assures you. “He’s a good kid.”

“Really? I wouldn’t know.”

The night after Seungcheol told you that Hansol was asking to meet, your answer surprised him. But not long, as you both are finishing each other’s plate of dinner Seungcheol admitted to you that he believed that you choose the good thing. That one meeting would not hurt anything that has happened between you two.

On the next weekend, Seungcheol kindly lend his apartment for Hansol to meet you as he took Kkuma for a walk and then dropping her off to his brother’s place.

Now, after packing treats and a few hairpins for Kkuma, Seungcheol has spend minutes trying to calm your nerves. Even offering to stay, but you kindly refused. Your conscience felt heavy, because Seungcheol has put himself involuntarily as a mediator. Even willing to vacate his own house. You didn’t want to burden him more deeper in your own ‘familial’ matter.

After Seungcheol eventually left— with a lingering hug and whispers of sweet whatnots, you were left with your own thought. Sitting idly in Seungcheol’s spacious living room as you wait for time to rolls by to when had Hansol agreed to came by. Sighing, you tried to calm your nerves as you massaged your own palms.

At times like this, you appreciated having someone by your side. At times, it used to be your mom. But now, the only person passed through your mind is Seungcheol.

In times as fast as you couldn’t comprehend, Seungcheol has made a place in your life that you’ve never thought was devastatingly vacant. How the emptiness never bother you too much, but now, being alone in the same space you used to spend together, the feeling strangely adding to the nerves of meeting Hansol.

Before you know it, a sudden wave of sleepiness hits you and for a moment you fell asleep on the sofa until the familiar bell rang and you jolted awake.

With hurried steps, you almost trip over the rug on your way over. Catching your breath, you looked through the peep hole to see Hansol. If you looked longer, you might notice that Hansol looked almost the same as you. Catching up on the breath he spend to calm down the frazzled nerves.

You opened the door resolutely. Although you cannot help to keep your eyes away to anywhere but Hansol. It helps you that you’re familiar enough with Seungcheol’s place to navigate ways as you make a beeline to the kitchen. Hansol following with a silent steps behind you.

The place that you’re used to spend countless nights in felt a little surreal. Especially now, vacant of Seungcheol and occupied with Hansol instead. But you continued, preparing tea in silence.

You opted for green tea. Along with the stretch of continuous silence. Even after you placed a cup in front of Hansol.

The stretch felt like hours. You’re almost halfway down your cup of scalding hot tea. Feeling the calming warmth already dissipating as Hansol kept with his silence. At first you’re comfortable with letting Hansol talk on his terms, but you feel like he’s waiting for something. As if he’s trying to find his words.

You almost surprise yourself with how calm you’ve become. The initial anxiety has lessen, along with the green tea. While you had noticed how Hansol hasn’t even touched his tea. His hands fidgets with every little surface he found but the teacup.

“That night,” you paused as Hansol looked up from the much interesting pattern of Seungcheol’s table top. “I- i have to admit that never in my imagination that i would see you. Seeing that you know who i am, you roughly knew the history how we came to be. And honestly i have never expected anything, not even you knowing my existence. So, the way you’ve been acting every time we met are just- just beyond my thoughts. Although i didn’t blame you for it.” You whispered that last part, and met with another silence. At this point, you truly didn’t know why Hansol has asked to meet you, “All i’m saying is we lived years without being in each other way. I believe we can do better. I already apologize for getting in your way.”

“My way,” Hansol’s voice are a mere whispers. How it sounds bitter and hollow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “I was in middle school, i remember that it was the day of Sofia graduating elementary school. He sat me down that night, and he told me about you. A family he left back in Korea, how you were about to be in high school. That day i know everything and i didn’t do anything. I couldn’t tell dad to be brave, nor do anything to help. He shown me a picture of you when you’re still a baby. He was so young and so was your mother, but so are you. Just a baby. Ever since that day, there’s always this barrier that i felt with dad. I couldn’t fully blamed him, so i blamed myself.”

“Wha- why are you blaming yourself?”

“Because that was the time when your mother was sick Y/n, she asked dad to help her to take care of you but he- he’s too afraid to came here and do the bare minimum. Y/n i am so sorry, i didn’t know what i was expecting when i moved away from dad years ago. But i know if i ever met you, i have to beg for your forgiveness- it’s been years, i’m so—”

It barely registered to you that Hansol was already burst into tears, choked up in his own words as he turns to you and fell flat to the floor. Clenched fists rests on top of his lap as he kneels. A painful sobs rocking his shoulder while you’re still processing his previous words.

The memories of your time from high school was never a fond one. Your mother sickness was a wake up call for you. It stopped your obsession from a family thousand miles away and lets you focus on your mother. It was always you and your mother, but the way that she fell ill, she needed a professional helps so a distant relatives offer a care but it was in her hometown, Daegu.

It was not easy to part with your mother, but she had insisted you to stay in your current school because your records has been excellent and how important and prestigious it is to have. She doesn’t want you to left all such good things behind because of her.

Knowing your mother was in a good hand, thus begins your own determination. To be as successful as you can. So you’ll be able to take care your mother on your own.

If not in school, you were working part time. If not tutoring, you’re studying. If not sleeping, you’re finding ways to get a simple one-day gig for easy money. With that, you passed through high school and on to college. Never forgetting every available weekend you took a late night bus to visit your mother. While countless other nights spend being with yourself in a house as empty as you feel.

“…p- please forgive me.”

What you’ve done next felt strange even to you. How your muscles move without much thought. After drifting to your memories and back to present where Hansol still on his knees and sorrowful tears. Making no sound as you kneels beside Hansol and wrapped your arms around him. His sobs grew to silence as you rub a soothing circles on his shoulder. Not knowing your own tears staining Hansol’s jacket.

“I- i didn’t mean to be so rude. But when i saw you were running away from me, even avoiding to go to work, and then you met Sofia that morning- i was just. My guilt was eating me alive, Y/n please forgive me.”

A sigh escaped your lips, the million words you’d like to say only came out as a murmur to help Hansol calms down first.

“I understand. You don’t need to apologize anymore Hansol. I forgive you.”

Hansol held onto your hand like it’s a lifeline, as his sobs continues and gradually lessen to a small sniffle. Yet you can still feel the damp spot on your own shoulder. For one last time, you pat Hansol’s back before pulling away. Holding back a smile as you see the aftermath of crying on Hansol’s face. The sharp edges of his face soften with the reddish hue. Maybe because the slight puff under his eyes that you’re never used to.

To be fair, seeing Hansol in real life is never an occurrence that you thought you would have to get used to.

“I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be a wreck like this.” Hansol sniffles, as you handed him the boxed tissue by the table. A laugh now escaped your lips. Wet, throaty, and followed by Hansol’s.

“Didn’t i told you no more apologizing?”

Hansol, already on his feet extended his hand to you. Helping you back to the chair. Trying to compose yourself, you headed back to the kitchen. An excuse to make more tea, while you let the wave of awkwardness pass and Hansol to calm himself down.

“You know, Seungcheol hid his expensive liquor on the lower cabinet.”

“Huh?”

Before you know it, Hansol already hunched down beside you. Rummaging through the cabinet you hadn’t explored yet. Putting down the empty teacup, you peered into the new space. And truly, there, lined up many bottles of various alcohol you have never seen before.

“All this time i thought he only drank beer.” Your raised eyebrows follows Hansol’s little smirk.

“He does. But he likes to buy all kinds of liquor just because he can. Drank one sip and then straight to the cabinet here.”

It doesn’t surprise you that Hansol knew this little details. After hearing how close the two are, you had suspected what kind of relationship they have. Like birds of a feathers perhaps.

You had silently admit that you sometimes prefer a good cocktails like a simple negroni or martini. But making one has been a hassle throughout, so you often opted for beer. Hansol nodded in reply, hands busy making a mix of highball for him and a negroni for you. He had quietly admit that he used to do a part time in a bar as he learned to Dj.

With alcohol in both of your system, you can see how Hansol began to relax. Just from the way he slightly leans back on his chair. One hand rest on his leg while another on his glass. Wiping condensation on his glass out of amusement. Strangely he looks at peace.

“Can i ask you something?”

You answer with a hum. Letting the familiar bitterness coating your tongue. The taste welcomes you like a familiar surprise.

“How are you not mad at me?” You caught Hansol’s brief glance to you, and then taking a gulp of his highball. Only a bitter smile left on your face.

“Who says i’m not?” It amused you a little when you notice the slight rigidness in Hansol’s face. “Well i’m no longer mad, that’s the full answer. Its years of bearing grudge, anger, and envy. I decided i have enough with these feelings. Like a child blaming the world for everything that didn’t go their way. Although the self-deprecation remained sometimes. Eventually it all just went away, maybe because i’m tired and my mom being sick is like a wake up call for me out of these stupid obsession of my past. Of you to be honest.” A smile appear on your face at the thought that pops up as you stare at the half-empty tumbler. “You know, at the last months before she passed, my mom used to say this to me each time i came to visit. Before i left, she would hold my hands tightly and wishes for me to live for myself and be happy. To chase what i love and live the way that i’d invite happiness with open arms. It’s as if she’s trying to say goodbye every time, so that she know i’ll leave with no regrets.”

“I’m ready to apologize my whole life Y/n.” The words rang heavy in the air. Being buzzed had relaxed both of you, yet the words remain weighing down your own shoulder. It doesn’t even feel like it lessened Hansol’s heart. Your smile are clouded with a frown.

“You’ve said your sorry Hansol. That’s enough.” Taking a deeper breath, you mustered a smile before finishing the last drop of your drink. The ice has melted, making it fully watered down. “What’s happened happened, it’s up to me and you now to live our life. We’ve done it quite well actually. You on your own, me on my own.”

“I couldn’t really said i’ve done well. Living my life.” Hansol’s smile accompanied with a bitter chuckle. You purse your lips, nodding as commiseration.

“You might. To be honest, maybe i do too. What’s important is trying to do our best, every time in the future.” Your small shrug replied by Hansol’s chuckle. His glass empty and his tears dried.

The silenced air felt lighter now.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system adding to the effect, but the weight lifted between the both of you proving the unsaid agreement from a long misconstrued past. You kinda missed the quiet scuttle of Kkuma’s footsteps. A squeaky toy in her mouth.

“I’ve been kind of avoiding Seungcheol ever since we met. I should apologize to him as well.” Your frown brought Hansol’s smile wider at his admission.

“That, you should. Maybe we can gift him a bottle of expensive Gin to say sorry for making him leave his place on a weekend.”

“You know he wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.” Hansol muttered matter-of-factly.

“That’s where we secretly drink it. So it won’t go to waste.” Trying to suppress a laugh, Hansol on the other hand, applauded your silly idea.

“Speaking of Seungcheol,” Hansol rubbed his nose while glancing to you through the corner of his eyes. The teasing smile brings you back to the memories of a playful kid you used to barely know. “Since when, are you two together?”

You raised your eyebrows at his question. In return, Hansol shrugged in nonchalant smile. Hiding behind it is a sliver of mirth you never thought you’d see in a lifetime.

“Hmm, let’s see. It hasn’t been long to be honest.” You mumbled throughout. Suddenly feeling shy at the question of your relationship life. “You see i was just starting to work at the office downstairs a few months ago. I got lost on my first day and knocks on Seungcheol’s door at like, 8 AM probably. He’s barely had his eyes open the first time we met.”

Hansol coughs interrupted your train of thoughts. When you look over, you don’t expect the furrowed on his eyebrows as Hansol tries to open the bottled water you just handed over.

Rather curiosly, you gaze at Hansol as he downed almost half of the bottle. Your curiosity grew even more when Hansol stammers his words at your simple gaze.

“What is it Hansol? What are you trying to say?” You pressed on. Unassuming smile on your face while you propped your head on your palm.

“Didn’t you both met at college?”

“No, we just went to the same college. We don’t really know each other then.”

When the frown on Hansol’s face grow deeper, your curiosity does the same. Your heartbeat grew as you let your gaze urging Hansol to elaborate more on his question.

“It’s just—” Hansol tries to look away, but he shifts in his seat before focusing his eyes back to you. “Back then, i know about you through him, before Seungcheol dropped out of uni. He mentioned someone he fell in love with, and he showed you to me when you’re working part-time at the florist nearby. I have my suspicion of who you are and then Seungcheol showed me your old photo with your mom in social media. Wait- what’s happening here—”

Sensing the same confusion radiating from your rigid frame, Hansol clams to himself and trying to find some sort of reasoning. In the end he found none and only resorted to doing nothing as he watched you glued to your seat, expression growing darker as confusion eats away your thoughts.

Millions of image flashes in your brain, remembering every time you stare at Seungcheol’s perfectly sculpted face. How he smile and laugh so hard at his own little antics in his own attempt to make you smile. It turns you now to wonder what kind of thought passes by his head when he harbour such secret to himself.

And what might other little secret he has kept hidden and wrapped in a box. Awaiting the perfect time to unravel.

It turns your stomach upside down. The dawning thought that you might not know Seungcheol at all. The man you had grown to love and laid yourself bare of any inhibition. How it scares you now that he’s becoming one of the rock you clung on to in this life. Right after your mother.

Yet it all crumble to a lie. Somehow. It doesn’t anger you that some truth had never reach your knowledge and you’re determined to dig it out of Seungcheol.

Just how much of reality he has presented and whether what your feeling has been built all upon lies.

The fated afternoon unfurling another wave of uncertainty in your life.

Somehow Seungcheol sat in the eye of the storm.

\\

It was the sound of the door unlocking that snap you out of your thoughts.

Unable to discern time passing even before you told Hansol that you need time for yourself. To which he reluctantly did grants you.

Not before you make him promised you not to tell Seungcheol anything regarding the day. Especially of your newfound revelation. You noticed how Hansol looks like he’s torn between worlds. Yet he make his promise to you.

The sun has gone far down. Seungcheol’s place strangely feels more homely when it’s dark. But now there’s a big floating elephant occupying the familiar space.

Quickly after the front door was shut, Seungcheol appears in front of you. The smile in his face are adorned with his dimple. Even after you cast your eyes on him. You know he could feel the questions from the small quirk of your eyebrow. Seungcheol still make his way to you.

“How did it went? How do you feel?”

“Years after my mom passed, i always keep her words in mind. I go by my day like i used to do for years. I thought i’ve done my best. Until i start to work in this building. I realize that I haven’t been living for myself. I don’t think i ever was, with the way i pushed people out of my life and act like i don’t need anyone’s help. And i met you here, for what i thought for the first time. I accepted your help and welcomed you into my life. Happily.” Taking a pause and a deep breath, you stood from the sofa and approach Seungcheol. Each step heavier than before as he kept his eyes to you. Only when you’re facing each other that you noticed the lines in his face. Ones that grown deeper each time he’s scared or worried.

“Y/n-”

“But then today i learned that those were not the first time we met. So tell me, who are you?”

Seungcheol remained where he stood as a shuddering breath fills his lungs. Rubbing his face before glancing to anywhere but you. As his silence grew, you heart shrink. Crashing down in fear of a realization that the love you chase and happiness you feel are possibly just a smoke and mirror in Seungcheol’s hands.

“I’m still me. Please believe that whatever Hansol is telling you, it’s a misunderstanding. Please let me explain.” The words came to you like a chilling rush. Bringing you back to life but it left you in the cold. “D-do you remember when you were working part time in the library? When we were still in college? W-wait no, the night bus you usually took when you visit your mother—”

“What?"

“Please let me explain Y/n. I—” Seungcheol took your hand, he couldn’t mask the disappointment in his face when you flinch at his touch. “Like this, you used to comfort me like this. Recently, and back then when i hid in the corner of the library at night.” Your frown only left Seungcheol to hold your hand tighter. “Before dropping out, all i did was having a breakdown over things i couldn’t control. But you— you were just the same as me, yet you comfort me every time. Not saying anything or even ask my name as you hold me back then. I still remember you even offered me water and snacks that you save to get you through the night shift in the library.

But even before that, i met you at that bus. The midnight and the cheapest one you took to go back to Seoul after visiting your mother in Daegu. I heard someone on the phone telling their mother that they were warmly dressed to sleep throughout that freezing bus ride. I didn’t know it was you when i left a scarf on your lap as you were sleeping. And when you found me the next time, hiding from the world in that library just a few nights after, you were wearing that scarf.”

“…and Hansol?”

“After you quit at the library, i admit i kept on accidentally bumping on to you on every part time job you did. Even until i dropped out and work with Hansol in the studio, i only told him about someone i’ve been making my songs about, then showed him one picture of you and he told me nothing. Nothing. Even after we got officially signed together, then we got busy with work and you— you were graduating.

After that I never saw you anymore, even when i intentionally took the late night bus to Daegu hoping to bumped into you. Until— until that morning when you knocked on my door and i thought i must’ve positively gone insane from work.”

The words rushing out of Seungcheol’s mouth raises million questions in your head. The memories coming back to you quickly and it burns to your mind. All the things you missed as you don’t paid enough attention to your own life. Too busy living for your mother and old obsession.

“That scarf…”

“Y/n?”

You hadn’t realized your whispers and the tears in your eyes. Too busy staring at the man in front of you. The image suddenly clicks as you slowly enveloped Seungcheol in a hug. A feeling you came to love more, knowing that every fibre of your being is right where it supposed to be.

With a sigh of relief, Seungcheol put his hands around you and pulls you closer. Your tears scares him to death but the warmth in your touch comfort his thought somehow. He can only savour the present. Fear that it slips through his hands like it did back then.

“There are possibly not many meaningful things i kept in my life. But that scarf, maybe one thing that give me strength and comfort everyday.” Your words prompted him to hitch a breath.

“I know, you wore that often. I almost had a heart attack when you came here wearing it the first time.”

“You should’ve told me from the start. I could’ve thanked you and known you properly. Even back then—”

“I was only a wreck back the—”

“Hey, don’t say things like that. You’re not a wreck. You’re a good person, and a good friend. You’re enough.”

Seungcheol has to fight the smile in his face. Your words has sent his heart to overdrive. He pulls away only to close in and kiss your temple. The two of you sharing a content sigh as the familiar comfort wrap you both after a whirlwind of an emotional day.

“I’m sorry, i should’ve told you sooner. And for unintentionally being the reason you and Hansol met. How do you feel? Meeting him?”

“It was surreal. Like a dream. Ones that start so suddenly, and then you woke up with the most vivid memories only to forgot about it moments later.” You slowly confess. It earned a nod from Seungcheol. Still holding you tight. “But i’m glad it happened. Meeting you, and Hansol. I feel like it all had to happened somehow. No matter how absurd the process was.”

“Are you sure you’re glad meeting me?”

You nodded with a smile. Seungcheol’s eyes scans your face slowly, capturing your sight to his memory. Like he won’t let this moment end without remembering every little corners and creases on your face.

“Despite how and what happened, i wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m sorry. For not recognizing you.”

Wordlessly, Seungcheol bows his head to hide his face to the column of your neck. The constant closeness deepens the smile on your face. The rise and fall of tension throughout the day has let you to melt into his touch completely.

“I can feel you itching to say something.” Seungcheol’s low whispers heats a patch on your skin. You’ve been trying to focus on other things for awhile now. But the weight of Seungcheol’s touch, even on your clothed skin are feeding into the new excitement deep behind the initial butterflies that filled your guts. “I can also hear your heart drumming in your chest.”

“Of course you can.” Your quiet retort pulls Seungcheol back to straightened. The familiar looks in his eyes never faze you. But right now? Him looking at you through his incredibly long lashes as his dimple slowly deepened with every second passing. Your quiet resolve slowly melting under his gaze while you can feel Seungcheol tightened his hold on your waist.

“So what is it you want to say Y/n?” The smirk on Seungcheol face as he utters your name sink the feeling deeper in the pit of your stomach. His teasing nature felt familiar in your mind. But him utilizing it to quickened the blood in your vein as well as making you want him are beyond your thought.

“There’s nothing that i want to say though.”

“Hmm,” Seungcheol paused to take a look down to your lips and shamelessly let his gaze lingers. “Then i guess we have to do something with those idle lips.”

You shook your head in disbelief before decreasing the distance yourself. His lips welcome you gladly and softly. As much as Seungcheol loves the taste of your lips, he kept his desire at bay as he lets you take control. For now.

Touching every surface of skin at your disposal, you nib and tug hungrily into his plump lips. Couldn’t care less about Seungcheol’s growing smirk. Not when he cradles the side of your face gently, yet the feeling of his coarsed palm along your cheek are just fuelling your desire more.

Seungcheol gladly drinks in every little noises that escaped your lips. A sense of pride would’ve filled his mind but the way his every senses are filled with you are setting his focus to savour your taste more. Cherishing how his heart leap and fell faster just with just the scent of your skin closer to him.

He really thought he was well and truly mad.

Hungrily chasing Seungcheol’s lips, your eager steps brought the two of you to the sofa. Seungcheol fell down with an ‘oomph’ and you waste no time to straddle him and planting your lips back on.

Now it’s your turn to cradle his face as if you’ll lose him if you don’t.

You almost whined when Seungcheol pulls himself away from your lips. His eyelids flutters open before groaning and tipping his head back over the sofa.

Unknowing of the flustered and heaving state of your own, you only stare at Seungcheol incredulously. As if he’s grown a second head.

“…what is it?”

“No, i—”

Seungcheol doesn’t wanna waste his words. Lunging himself back to you. Capturing your lips with a new intensity. Puffs of warm breath escaped as he angled your head in his hold. Deepening the kiss with the way his tongue moves against yours.

Your own hand relent to the delicious pleasure while clenching the fabric of his hoodie.

Replying the same fervour of his kiss as you nibble on his tongue in hunger. Swallowing the deep bellied groan from the man under you. It spurs Seungcheol’s next action. You can feel the heat from his palms as they moves lower, resting briefly on either side of your hips before making a slow move to the bare skin under your shirt.

“Y/n i don’t want to rush you.” Seungcheol whispers low. Lips hovering barely on yours as your nose brushes against each other. You slowly closes your eyes to savour even the slightest touch.

“Choi Seungcheol.” You know he hates it. “It’s been years ever since an unknown stranger placed a scarf to my lap on that freezing bus ride. At first i was apprehensive. Who could it be and where it came from. But then that bus was so cold.” You almost wince at the memory. The times where you only could afford so in your tight college budget.

“It was, truly it felt like a torture. That really justifies their price huh?”

“It really does. And i took that scarf because riding on that bus and arriving to the city in the morning gives me the perfect time for my early class. Yeah, i sound like a maniac. I wasn’t thinking that time. Certainly wasn’t even thinking of myself.” You smile as you paused, raising your hand to caress Seungcheol’s face. A smile blooms in your face when Seungcheol’s eyelids flutter close at your touch. “I didn’t know it back then but a kindness from stranger might be the first step i took to meet you. Took me years even without knowing you, to know that i was waiting for you. Do you think i have anymore patience left in me?”

“Only you Y/n, that can say such words that makes me so happy and turning me into melting puddle. And then looks so sexy while saying it.” Seungcheol words are chasing you. Closing the gap between you once more.

Effortlessly, Seungcheol lift you up with his grip securing your legs. Thankfully you found your balance quickly. Circling your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and your legs wrapped around his hips as he makes his way somewhere.

You truly couldn’t care. Too busy kissing Seungcheol deeper as his tongue explored your mouth.

Until he gently lowers you into a soft surface. A bed. Your mind quickly provides. Seungcheol’s bed, to be exact. You took no time to lay back down and bringing Seungcheol with you. Lips still tangled in kisses. His long bangs slightly grazing your face as he caged you between his strong arms.

Seungcheol makes it quick to whip himself out of the giant hoodie he’s wearing. But still leaving him in a tight compression shirt. You wonder if he’s just done working out today. The way the shirt tightly clung into his defined muscles makes your hunger took a deep dive down.

It truly didn’t do his muscles justice when Seungcheol have the affinity to wear baggy clothes.

Your hands quickly wanders off from his back, arms, and eventually stops where his shirts end. Your fingers tried to pry the tights shirt off but to no avail. Seungcheol leaned down even closer, one hand lift up to cup your chin.

The touch feels so gentle yet it burns.

“Baby, do you want something off?”

“You’re driving me insane.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

In a swift motion, Seungcheol straightened up to take the compression shirt off and set himself snug in between your thighs. Kneeling tall on his bed, letting the ambient lights bounce off of the smooth and defined muscles of his whole exposed torso. The thought of drooling as a response feels appropriate in your mind. But what came out of your mouth are just an inaudible whispers of amazement.

Seungcheol took pity of your state and dive down to plant a kiss to the exposed skin above your pants. You followed his action through half-lidded eyes. Seungcheol’s hand are proven nimble despite its size as he quickly unbuttoned your pants and eventually took it off of you.

“Have i ever said that you smells so good. All the time.”

You murmured a laugh but it was quickly replaced with pleasured sighs as Seungcheol plants kisses along your navel. His hands leaving heat all over your thighs. Making himself comfortable as he lowers down to be on his knees.

“Shut your mouth, Seungcheol.”

“Will do darling.”

Biting your lips, you tried to suppress a moan but failed as you can feel the rumble of Seungcheol laughs against your inner thigh. From that moment on, you accept that Seungcheol can easily drove you mad just from his voice alone.

You can’t wait to explore more in that. For now, you enjoys the way Seungcheol took his time to find his way around the exposed skin on your body. A frustrated mewl escaped your lips when Seungcheol obviously taking too much time. The anticipation in the pit of your stomach are fuelled with every kiss he left on your skin.

“Fuck, Seungcheol p-please,” your breath hitch as Seungcheol places lingering kiss at the base of your thigh. “Either eat me out or don’t do anything.”

“So fucking demanding, and so fucking hot.” Seungcheol hand flew up to toy around the fabric of your panties. His eyes drinking at your state on top of his bed. Heaving breath and basked in the warm lights of his own bedroom. “We have to do something about that huh? Me shutting my mouth.”

You don’t need to crane your neck to see that Seungcheol has placed his head lower. His hands drag you by your leg to have you closer to his reach. All while also removing the last piece of clothing that’s covering your lower half.

“So beautiful, baby. Don’t ever hold back those moan for me.”

“Cheol. Shut. Up.”

“As you wish, baby.”

With one last kiss to your lifted knee, Seungcheol smirks before disappearing from your line of sight. The words previously let out through your gritted teeth are quickly replaced with moans. Echoing through the room with reckless abandon.

“Oh- fuck S-seungcheol.”

Half of your thought are filled with the urge to laugh, because how good Seungcheol is making you feel. The other half are gone from its respected place as the same man is skilfully moving his tongue into your already sopping core. You can feel the slight vibration as Seungcheol chuckle through his successful ministration. He brought up your anticipation only to return to making out with your labia.

You sighed at his action. He was clearly on a mission. To steal all of your breath as he continuously nibble and bringing more friction as it feeds to your desire. The delicious edge in the pit of your stomach are seemingly close as Seungcheol buries his face deeper. Uncaring of how he’s needing oxygen to breath. He’s busying himself to pleasure you. Gasping every now and then before diving and applying pressure around your clit with only his tongue.

“Fuck-”

Your words are cut short when Seungcheol replaces his tongue with his finger. Clenching the soft materials of his sheets, you almost wail. His mouth never left your gushing core as his finger helps you closer to your orgasm. Thighs trembling and all that.

Seungcheol one hand kept around your thigh to let him continues his ministration. His other hand couldn’t help to slip into your wet cunt. Ignoring the growing tent in his pants. One finger, thick enough to build its pace slowly. Easing into the steady set of movement Seuncgheol has set up with his lips and tongue. Continuous shiver runs down his spine every time he can feel your legs quiver or when you moan with reckless abandon.

When Seungcheol added another finger in his motion, you almost wailed in both surprise and pleasure.

“S-Seungcheol, Cheol please-”

“Please what baby?”

The low hum of Seungcheol’s reply can be felt close to your cunt. Adding warmth as well as added intensity to the coiling pit of pleasure in your guts.

As if on cue, Seungcheol retracted his fingers altogether. Making himself lower to dive back in to devour your cunt. The wetness on his fingers are making it easy for him to slip into his own pants and try to release the tension on his cock. Meanwhile the constant build up of pleasure has left you somewhat hanging, but the little yet impactful movements of Seungcheol’s plump lips around your clit are bringing you straight to another high for your release.

The sheer intensity of Seungcheol’s lips on you, are making the most sinful sound you ever heard. Wet squelching noise accompanies your breathless moan as your hand tries to grab on anything that would either help you to your release or hold you down through the whirlwind of pleasure.

When Seungcheol feels your body almost shuddering tight to another close, the hand in his pants move faster. Sloppier. Driven from the remnants of your wetness on his fingers, now mixing with his own precums. Seungcheol can’t help to moan as he hums it straight to your cunt. It all sent your body to a crescendo, not long as you held on tight to the soft duvet around you.

“Ohhh fuck- fuck Cheol.”

Your body quivers uncontrollably, but Seungcheol one big hand is strong enough to keep you still as waves and waves of pleasure runs through your every nerve straight to your core. Sending your wetness straight into Seungcheol’s open and welcoming lips. Strings of babbling noises escaped your lips as you let yourself be carried through your eventual release. Seungcheol continuous moan sent steady vibration, getting you through to calm your racing heartbeat back to clarity.

Not long, until you eventually cognizant enough to feel and see that Seungcheol are now the one lost in pleasure. Chasing his own release with one hand shoved into his pants and the other trying to find leverage for him to rise up from the floor.

“…fuck, baby. You tastes too good.”

With a somewhat unimaginable core strength, Seungcheol managed to bend down and catching your lips into a heated and sloppy kiss. You can feel remnants of your own wetness as Seungcheol cups your head in one hand and kisses you in hurried fervency. Chasing his own release, his hand kept its steady pace on his cock while his brows grow taut and lips hovering barely on top of yours. Puffs of hot air blowing straight to your face as Seungcheol eventually groan into your clavicle.

You can feel his warm cum painting your belly as Seungcheol has his face still hidden into your skin. Your hand instinctively flew to bury your fingers in Seungcheol messy tuft of hair. Proving to ease him down from his bliss as Seungcheol lets out comfortable hums.

“I love being held by you.” Seungcheol mutters as he plants lazy kisses along your exposed skin. Setting himself snug on his side while enveloped by your hand as you continue to play with his hair. Still not finding your words or the strength to get up, you only managed a nonchalant hum as a reply.

Clarity hasn’t found your fogged up mind yet.

“What baby? Cat got your tongue?” Seungcheol teases, his hand snaked around your figure. Bringing you flush to his chest. A whisper of smile on his face. The dimple grow deeper, setting Seungcheol’s face seemingly glowing inside the dim room.

“Excuse me for being spent after someone decided to take ages to make me cum.” Your words instantly changes the look in Seungcheol’s eyes. You fear you’ve awaken a sleeping giant.

Although with the way Seungcheol’s muscles look, even with the minimal light in his room, he can actually be considered as a giant. The image flashes of his taut abs in your mind brought a delicious shudder down to your spine once again. All while Seungcheol’s heated gaze remains on you.

With a single tug, Seungcheol has managed to pin you down while the gaze he hold also captures you frozen, within the closeness and the mixture of scent between the two of you enveloping you whole.

“We have to do something about this, then?” Seungcheol whispers lowly against your lips.

You barely register Seungcheol’s question. As if it bounces off of your focus from the man who now laying almost on top of you. Without you knowing, his hand travels to hold your legs opened for him.

“..huh? What?”

“I remember someone did say they have no more patience left.” Seungcheol smirk, his one hand managed to propped himself up, but not crushing you. While the other has found itself caressing your hip under the still remaining fabric of your shirt.

The new heat and excitement rendering you silent as Seungcheol savour the stuttering breath he received just from a simple touch. He never gets tired of being amaze at the minuscule changes in your face. The brief moments he saw of you getting lost in pleasure just from his fingers and lips are proven to be some sort of a drugs for him.

He’s eager to have you more.

“So fuck me then, Choi Seungcheol.”

With a grunt, Seungcheol dives in. His lips captures yours with new ferocity. Barely a second apart just to yank your shirt off. Gone was any semblance of sanity as you manage to hear little clinking of your button flung around somewhere around Seungcheol’s room.

Seungcheol is just a man. Who gives in so easy with your simple taunt. Yet he won’t let you have it completely your way.

“You can’t stand feeling so empty huh?”

Seungcheol’s words sets off your moan, his hands which gripping your thighs hard to force it open also adding the hunger in you.

Messy hair and abs glistening in sheen of sweat, you cannot held back the whimper in your throat. Desperation runs through your vein. Seungcheol kneels between your wide open legs, his clothed cock stood dangerously close to your core but not enough.

“Good thing i make you cum so hard right? How else are you gonna take my cock?”

“Please- fuck, i can.” You sounded like a fool, but priorities stand first.

“Uh-huh, you wanted me so bad baby? Can’t even waste the night sleeping huh? You have to make this cock fuck you good.”

Incoherent plea escapes your lips, Seungcheol smirked at the sight. His fingers now play with your slick core, making sure you’re wet enough. Truthfully, Seungcheol himself can’t wait to bury himself deep into you. The thought send shudders down his spine.

“Ju- just fuck me Cheol, i’m on pills.”

Seungcheol has a plan to edge you out for tonight, but your words truly sets him off of all restraint. The image of you, face contorted in pleasure and whispering his name in needs. It rushed his blood straight to his cock.

“You don’t know what those words make me feel Y/n.” Seungcheol lowly whispers. His lips tracing close on the column of your neck and the newly exposed portion of your skin.

“Then show me. Fuck me good and hard.”

Your words quickly shorted with a gasp. Seungcheol’s finger which has been steadily playing with your clit are pulled away abruptly. Scrambling to take off the sweats he just wore, chucking it away in abandon.

You catch the sight of Seungcheol’s cock, standing tall and it almost sent you jaw in slack. You never knew you had these innate feeling of hunger for Seungcheol’s cock. Especially after seeing its size.

Seungcheol gives your pussy one swipe before lining up his cock to the entrance. Slowly pushing to the hilt, Seungcheol coaxed you in a sweet whispers of praises. His cock filled you so deliciously, enough for you to pushed the initial pain aside.

“That’s it baby, feels so good. Doing so good taking me.”

Your only response was a moan, in a mix of delight and lingering sore.

His long hair almost touched your glistening forehead as your hand flung to take a hold of Seungcheol’s back. Unconsciously raking your nails but the sensation only resulting in a low groan from the man on top of you.

With the slightest nod from you, Seungcheol thrusts in a slow pace. Yet enough to sent shudder down your spine. Feeds your appetite deliciously while Seungcheol chuckled above you.

Half of him is delirious on how good you’re making him feels. Spurring his thrusts faster with you whimpering as a result. Your chest heaved with every breath and it invited Seungcheol to squeeze one of your tits in his hand. It only drove you crazier.

The same sensation engulfing the two of you escalated. Filled with pleasure and incited with greed. A familiar burn certainly visits you once more. Weaving close with pleasure to blankets you delightfully.

The long torturing time of Seungcheol trying to keep his excitement and desire at bay has resulted in the same disbelief. At first when you knock on his door a few months ago. And now, filling you so deep while having encouraging noises of pleasure as your best reply to his thrusts.

“Oh, fuc- Cheol please.”

Seungcheol smirk against your heated skin between the valley of your breasts.

“Is this good and hard enough for you princess?”

Shameless mewl resonates against the air. Mixing into the same wavelength as the sound of Seungcheol’s hips slapping against the peak of your ass. The sound only sending your pleasure knotting tighter in your guts.

He knows that he’s close. Stuttering sets of movements paired with gradual rigour to keep pushing. The warmth enclose from your core are inviting him to just bury his cock deep and lay it rests.

“C-cheol, just please, let go.”

In between your gasps of word, Seungcheol merely growl. Sheer force of control in his core while his hand grip your side and pulls you upwards and close matching every thrusts.

Your hands are quick to find purchase to anything around you. Trembling hold against the taut muscle of Seungcheol’s arm and the other to the soft duvet. It flows familiarly, the pleasure. Snapping close as your orgasm crashing down your whole body and reducing it to a mere husk while your nerve exploded in dances of lights.

Seungcheol drinks in your sight and sloppily thrusts until his own orgasm coursing spark through his veins. Mixture of whimpers and groans filled the air as Seungcheol kept his cock ramming into you even after spurts of cum paints your core.

Almost collapsing to you, Seungcheol held his weight on his elbow. Closing the distance to plants lazy kisses around you. Peppered with praises.

Thankfully you’re too spent to let this spark your hunger once more.

Maybe it’s worth checking out later.

For now, you’re barely cognizant as Seungcheol begins to clean you up. But now a pair of boxer suffice for him before pulling you close under the duvet.

The conscious part of you want to gaze into Seungcheol’s sleeping face all night. So free of inhibition and strangely freeing to the part in the corners of your mind. Where you keep all the things you cherish throughout your life.

It used to be unbearably empty. You have a feeling it’ll be filled with many more from now on.

“Baby,” Seungcheol deep and hushed tone graze your ears. A lazy smile adorned his face. Eyes still closed while his dimple inviting a kiss from you. “What got you thinking so hard?”

You kiss his dimple anyway. Sealing it to your memory.

“Choi Seungcheol, I’m being serious. Please don’t keep any secret from me now.”

Seungcheol eyes widen for a split second, the guilt visible in the twinkle of the dark orbs. Silently, he raises one hand to graze the flyaways that falling to your face. His thumb stops to caress your cheek.

“The morning when you knock on my door. It brings me such rush of memories. Everything, that happened in my life, i don’t know why it somehow leads me to you. At first i thought that such thing as fate is corny but then i fell for you. Much harder than when i used to in college. Then i realize i was always thinking about you. The songs i wrote, how i pulled through any hardships, somehow you’re there in my thoughts. It scares me how you became such a big thing in my life i can’t even begin to start how to explain things to you without sounding like a mad person along the way. I truly am sorry, i will be honest from now on. I could never lose you”

Your eyes frantically searches Seungcheol’s. How it glistens in the dark with his confession. You smiles at the realizations. How all your life you’ve been down with such burdening thoughts of the past and how you’ve been fighting to keep things from getting you on your knees every time. You couldn’t have the time to look at your surrounding and live just the life that you’ve been inspiring others to.

“I wish-” you choked back a smile. “I wish i recognized you the first time. I wish i could meet you for the first time once more. Then, i could get to know you sooner, and we could’ve gone through it all together.”

“Do you regret it? Meeting me at all?”

You shook your head violently. Craning your neck to kiss the tears that pools by the corner of Seungcheol’s eyes.

“You see me. Makes me see past my own fears and eventually face it. I could never regret meeting you.”

Seungcheol pulls you flush into his arms. His warmth enveloped you, now with more profound feelings deep in your heart.

Faint memories of your cold nights in the bus and hidden aisle of college libraries grazes your mind. The resulting rollercoaster of your life in these past months culminating into a weird resolve around Choi Seungcheol.

You could never know what would happened in the future with you and the recently connected ties with Hansol. But you could agree that it brought you a little peace of how it all rolls out. In addition of the knowledge that you have Seungcheol. Always there and ready to lift you up.

You pulls away to looks at the man in front of you. The thought that he sees you past your own views surrounding your world completed the piece you hadn’t know you’re missing your whole life.

prev chapter ||

whew, it's done!

[megagrind]

Oh divine intervention give me the power to write the most important email of my fucking life

[jewishbuckley]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[floral-hex]

Hey, do you got doctors appointments you need to schedule but haven’t for whatever dumb reason (for me, laziness. probably. no no, complacency. That sounds better)? Well, go do it! Now! or soon! You need to just hurry up and schedule that shit! I’m sorry! Make the call! You gotta! You’re probably gonna have to wait multiple weeks for the appointment anyway, so if you wait until the problem is really bad, then you’re just condemning yourself to waiting extra long to get checked out. Jeez!

[some-random-fandom-chick]

.

[cripplecryptid]

Mom said the group therapist wants to see me and my sister soon and uhhhh currently having a slight breakdown about it :)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around. 

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question. 

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying. 

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon. 

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out. 

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom. 

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!” 

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in. 

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed. 

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow. 

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home. 

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent. 

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent. 

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection. 

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: It's Here!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?

EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brother’s post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate who’s telling the truth after hearing both sides.

I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.

I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasn’t for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.

When it came time for my younger brother, “Steve,” to get his money, he didn’t tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed he’d either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.

So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.

Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldn’t buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didn’t, we’d more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.

He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.

Steve thought they were. When his company didn’t pay him back for his body modification AND didn’t promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didn’t have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when he’d go on these long tirades about his former company.

I could tell Dad wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he’s never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.

About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasn’t working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since I’d done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.

Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.

Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said he’d bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since he’s a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. It’s a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.

Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.

I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brother’s hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.

After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and “meeting quota.” She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldn’t respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.

(Yes, Steve’s always been the golden child.)

I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancé “Reginald” while catering an event at Dad’s old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and he’s the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that can’t be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but he’s got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that he’s happy being the “janitor” and happier being with me 😊

Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didn’t bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I weren’t on good terms, I was still hurt when he didn’t show.

When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that he’d been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.

I pointed out that he couldn’t be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own “Monster” (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESN’T make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.

When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his “territory.” He offered to talk to Steve.

We went over to Mom and Dad’s house together to confront him. Dad didn’t know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you aren’t born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).

The conversation didn’t go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginald’s health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.

All this to say that I didn’t expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.

Reginald and I weren’t planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.

That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasn’t invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasn’t happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.

Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.

Steve, however, was NOT helpful.

He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. I’m PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.

Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dad’s voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though he’s a Cryptid.

Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didn’t need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.

I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. That’s when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.

I’ll never forget the look on Reginald’s face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.

That’s when Steve started laughing.

I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, he’d just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginald’s heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancé in our own house.

He said he didn’t mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.

I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.

Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.

Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.

Steve said, “For what? It’s not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch can’t take a joke.”

Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldn’t use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didn’t matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.

Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasn’t welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.

I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasn’t good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.

Things could have ended worse, but they didn’t end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after they’re born (and now I STILL don’t know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).

Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.

So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being “proud” of scaring my fiancé into a heart attack at our baby’s gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?

AITA?

----

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See you next week!

This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.2k DON'T FORGET TO READ PREVIOUS CHAPTER tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter< next chapter

“You’re not serious.”

“Himari, please let’s not fight. I said I’d spend the 26th with you.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

She huffs, watching her boyfriend get his shower ready to go out and spend the day with another woman. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, anger threatening to be released if she wasn’t digging her nails into her palms. “You’re spending Christmas with some random bitch and a snot-nosed kid. How do you think that makes me fe—”

“Be quiet.” Satoru says, turning around to face her with a firm frown set in place. “I’ll tolerate you insulting me but don’t disrespect them, especially Koji.”

Himari freezes, her words catching in her throat as she registers the sharpness in Satoru’s voice. His usual laidback tone is gone, replaced with a seriousness that sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.  “Disrespect them?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re choosing them over me, Satoru. On Christmas. What am I supposed to think?”  

“You’re supposed to understand,” he replies, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Koji is my son. I’ve already missed enough of his life—I’m not going to miss any more.”  

“And what about me? What about us?” Himari snaps, stepping closer to him. “We’ve been together for almost two years, and I’ve only just now found out about all this shit. How do you think that makes me feel? Like an afterthought? Like you don’t trust me?”  

Satoru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knows she has a point, but he also knows this argument isn’t going anywhere productive. “Himari, this isn’t about trust. It’s about priorities. Koji needs me, and I’m not going to let him down. Not ever. I just need you to understand that, that’s all.”  

“And what about my needs?” she presses, her voice breaking slightly. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to decide when I’m important enough to make time for?”  

“You’re important to me,” Satoru says, his gaze meeting hers. “But Koji will always come first. That’s not going to change, Himari. If you can’t accept that…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.  

Himari’s jaw tightens, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You waltz into my life with all your charm and promises, and now you’re telling me I have to share you with some other family? What kind of relationship is this supposed to be? I did not sign up to be a fucking step-mother.”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softening slightly. “It’s the kind where I’m trying to do right by my son while still being with you. But I can’t do this if you’re going to make me choose.”  

She stares at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Maybe you already have,” she whispers before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.  

Satoru watches her leave, a heaviness settling in his chest. He doesn’t chase after her, instead turning back to the shower and letting the water run. For a moment, he just stands there, the steam fogging the mirror and blurring his reflection.  

He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t regret it. But he knows the fallout isn’t over yet. He sighs as he steps in, closing the glass door. She’ll come around in a few hours when she’s all settled down, that’s how it always is—so he won’t dwell over it. Besides, he has more pressing matters to take into account. 

Hearing the shower run in the bathroom, Himari has stomped over to the bedroom. Hands fishing the sheets in order to feel for his phone. After some seconds, she finds it. Already knowing the password, she angrily unlocks it and begins swiping and surfing through every app of his. “If you’re cheating on me, Satoru. I swear to god.” She mutters to herself, scowling down at the screen. 

She doesn’t see anything, but she does click on his message with you. It all consists of just talks of the kid. 

Himari scrolls through the thread of messages, her scowl deepening as she reads. The exchanges are polite, straightforward, and almost entirely about your son—pickup times, school updates, doctor appointments. Nothing incriminating, nothing emotional. Just... parental coordination.  

But it still stings.  

Her grip tightens on the phone as her eyes skim over a message from a few days ago, the last message between you two:  

Y/N: 

Thank you for picking him up and the food.  

Satoru:

Of course, he’s my son. Just let me know if you need anything else.

Himari scoffs, tossing the phone onto the bed with a frustrated huff. “Let me know if you need anything else.” she repeats mockingly under her breath. "He’s bending over backward for her, and I’m just supposed to sit here like nothing’s wrong? Yeah fucking right.”  

She paces the room, her mind racing. No matter how innocent the texts look, she can’t shake the feeling of being replaced. It doesn’t matter that Satoru insists he’s doing this for his son—his attention is divided, and she’s no longer at the center of his world.  Her pacing comes to a halt as she glances back at the phone. A new idea begins to form, one she knows is petty but feels justified in her growing anger.  

"If he won’t make me a priority," she mutters, picking up the phone again, "then I’ll remind him of what he stands to lose."  

She opens the camera app and snaps a picture of herself, deliberately angling it to show her figure in the soft light of the bedroom. Attaching it to a blank text, she hovers over the send button.  But something stops her. A hesitation, a flicker of doubt. She’s never had to fight for Satoru’s attention before—he’s always made her feel like she was the only one that mattered.  

Until now.  

With a frustrated growl, she deletes the photo and tosses the phone back onto the bed. Crossing her arms, she glares at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower still running behind it.  

"If you want to play the perfect dad, fine," she mutters. "But don’t expect me to sit around and wait while you pretend I don’t exist." 

Sitting down onto the bed, another form of thought pops in her head. Yanking the phone back into her hands, she presses his photo album. There must be something in here. And so, she scours and scours, zooming in on every picture in fear you’ll be in the background. However, she doesn’t find anything. Only pictures of that little brat who looks like his mirrored version. “Because of you…” she grits, hand tightening around the phone. 

Continuing to scroll higher, she can tell she’s reaching earlier years. Still, the insecurity and fear plaguing her chest causes her to not stop—not until she gets to the very first photo in his album. Then she’ll for sure know he’s still hers. She’s in the year 2015, before she met Satoru. He looks younger, more boyish. She pushes down the endearing feelings she holds towards his younger self and scrolls up. 

Until, she comes across a video. 

The start of it has your face in it and she’s clicking. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor in some Christmas jammies, a Santa hat on your head with a big Christmas tree behind you. She can assume Satoru’s sitting across from you, hearing his voice say, “Okay, go!”

The entirety of the video is her holding back throwing his phone across the room. Seeing you two open each other's gifts, seeing you smile at her man, and seeing her man look at you holding the camera in such a soft way—a way she’s almost never experienced before. 

She’s getting nauseous. 

She almost throws up when she catches a glimpse of you two kissing, saying the words I love you so softly. She quickly clicks out and shuts the phone off when the sounds of low moaning fill the speakers. 

Why does he even still have this? Does he look back on this?

She wants to claw her eyes and ears out of her body. Feeling utterly infuriated at her boyfriend for keeping practically a sextape of his ex even after all these years. You fucking assume, Satoru! Himari sits on the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her mind is a storm of thoughts—jealousy, anger, and a pang of something else she refuses to name. Satoru’s insistence on prioritizing Koji and you feels like a betrayal, even if she knows deep down it’s not the same as him being unfaithful.  

Still, she can’t shake the bitterness creeping into her heart.  

She glances at his phone again, her jaw tightening. What does she have that I don’t? The question gnaws at her, even as she tries to shove it aside.  

When the sound of the shower cuts off, Himari straightens her posture, her eyes narrowing. A brewing begins to form—not a vengeful one, but one that will force Satoru to confront the rift growing between them.  Moments later, Satoru steps out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, his damp hair tousled and messy. He pauses when he sees her sitting there, her gaze piercing through him. “What’s with the look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.  

She doesn’t answer right away, instead standing up and taking a slow step toward him. “Satoru,” she starts, her voice low but steady, “do you even realize how this feels for me? Watching you drop everything for her and that kid?”  

He sighs, already bracing himself for another argument. “Himari, we’ve been over this. Koji is my son. I have responsibilities—”  

“And what about your responsibilities to me?” she snaps, cutting him off. “I’m your girlfriend. I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve supported you, loved you, stood by you. But lately, it feels like I don’t even exist to you.”  

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration etched into his features. “This isn’t about us, Himari. It’s about Koji. He’s my son. I missed years of his life because I didn’t even know he existed. I’m not going to waste more time by pretending he doesn’t matter.”  

“And I don’t matter?” she fires back, her voice rising. “That’s what you’re saying, right? That I come second to some kid you barely even know?”  

Satoru’s patience finally snaps. “He’s not some kid, Himari! He’s my blood, my responsibility. And if you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in my life after all.”  

The words hang in the air like a slap. Himari stares at him, stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to process what he just said. Satoru doesn’t wait for her response. He grabs his phone from the bed, slipping it into his pocket, and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later,” he says flatly. “Don’t wait up.”  

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Himari alone in the room, her anger boiling over into tears she refuses to let fall. In the silence, one thought echoes louder than the rest: 

I won’t let her win. You wanted me to teach you, right? Then I’ll teach you.

Satoru’s already not having a good day. He could put most of the blame on his girlfriend, the other on his parents for questioning why he’s spending the holiday with you instead, and also the fact that there’s traffic. 

Of course there’s traffic. 

It’s a good thing, almost. It gives him some time to himself. It lets him calm his annoyance, the last thing he wants to do is ruin the day for his son. He’s also a little nervous to see you. He hasn’t seen or texted you since your small argument last time, and while he does feel bad, the other part of him still believes that what he did wasn’t wrong. Hopefully—maybe today or another day—he can settle that issue with you truly. There’s a lot of things he needs to settle with you, actually. 

But just like they say one day at a time, one problem at a time. 

His finger taps absentmindedly against his steering wheel as he surges his car forward before stopping again. Sighing, he checks the time. Cutting it a little close. He turns the music up and leans back, sighing heavily. 

But the song on the radio is something upbeat, and it only serves to grate on his nerves. Satoru switches it off with a sharp jab of his finger. The silence that follows isn’t much better, though—it leaves too much room for his thoughts to wander again. 

He wonders if you’ll bring up the argument as soon as he arrives. You’re not one to let things fester, not when Koji’s around, but he knows you’ve probably been stewing on it, the way you always do when it involves him. The guilt creeps in again, and he brushes it off like a pesky fly. He’s good at that—pushing things aside until they’re too big to ignore. That’s why you two are in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

Well, it’s surely part of it. 

The honk of a car behind him jolts him out of his thoughts. The traffic’s moving again, and Satoru presses on the gas, muttering a curse under his breath. He’s cutting it close, all right.

By the time he pulls up outside your place, his nerves are just frayed enough that he almost considers texting you to say he’s here instead of going to the door. But that feels… cowardly. He’s Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud. He can face you.

He steps out of the car, walking into the complex and up to your apartment. When he knocks on the door, it takes a moment before he hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, and there you are, looking… tired. But not unhappy to see him, which is something. Adorned in an apron too, how cute. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer than he expected.

“Hey,” he replies, trying for a smile that doesn’t feel forced. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of your home envelops him immediately, and the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room eases some of the tension in his chest.

“How’s he doing?” Satoru asks, his voice low as he glances toward the sound.

“He’s excited. Been asking about you all morning,” you say, crossing your arms but not looking at him directly.

Satoru shifts on his feet, his fingers tightening around the handle of the gift bag. “Yeah, well… I’m here now.”

You look at him then, your expression unreadable. “Yeah. You are.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Koji comes barreling into the room, his face lighting up when he sees his dad. “Papa!”

Satoru smiles, scooping up his son with ease as he walks into the living room, settling down onto the couch. The smell of delicious food fills his senses, eyes closing momentarily with a heavenly sigh. “Smells good, what’s your mother making?”

Koji grins, his arms wrapped tightly around Satoru’s neck. “She’s making roast chicken and cookies!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement. “And I helped with the cookies. But Mama said I ate too much of the dough.”  

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sounds about right. You’ve got a sweet tooth like your old man.”  

Koji’s giggle is infectious, and Satoru can’t help but feel a swell of warmth as he holds his son close. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of clinking dishes and soft humming filters through. For a moment, the tension from the past few days fades, replaced by the simple comfort of being here with his family.  

“You’re late,” your voice cuts through the air, light but pointed. You step into the living room, wiping your hands on a towel as you glance at him. He notices the small smudge of flour on your cheek, but there’s a softness in your expression that Satoru clings to.  His eyes move down your figure, ignoring the fluttering in his heart because you just look so damn cute in an apron. It feels domestic. 

You’re wearing a comfortable dress underneath, hair down with gold jewelry. Satoru physically gulps and tears his eyes away when they linger too long on your smooth legs. “Like I said, traffic.” He replies effortlessly, flashing you a sheepish grin. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

You inhale deeply, lips thinning but you concede with a simple nod. “Food’s almost ready. Koji, go wash your hands. And don’t forget to use soap this time.”  

Koji pouts but hops off Satoru’s lap, darting toward the bathroom. The moment he’s out of earshot, the room grows quiet, the weight of unspoken words settling between you and Satoru.  He leans back on the couch, watching you as you cross your arms and lean against the doorway. “You didn’t have to go all out today, you know,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “I could’ve helped you cook—”

You shrug, looking away for a moment as you cut him off. “It’s Christmas,” you reply. “I wanted it to be nice. For Koji.”  

He nods, understanding what you’re not saying. “For Koji,” he echoes. There’s a pause before he adds, “And for you, too. You deserve something nice, Y/N.”  

Your eyes flicker to his, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you find is that familiar look—the one that’s both infuriating and disarming at the same time. “You can’t just say things like that and expect everything to be okay, Satoru,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.  

“I know,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m trying, okay? I know I’ve been pushing boundaries, and I’m sorry. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I don’t want to miss any more of this. Of him. Of you.”  

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You hate when he says confusing things like this because it messes with your head, fooling yourself into thinking there’s something else there. Clearing your throat, you straighten out your light pink apron. “Don’t say things like that.”

The firmness in your tone causes Satoru to purse his lips. Standing up and walking over to you. “I don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“You may not think that, but other people have different opinions.”

“Are you still mad at me from before?”

That always ticks you off—asking such obvious questions with such an innocent face. You think he’s joking, just trying to poke at the bear. But his concerned eyes, brows lifted up—it tells a whole other story. You open your mouth to respond, but Koji’s cheerful shout from the bathroom interrupts.  

“Mama! Papa! I’m ready!”  

You glance toward the bathroom, then back at Satoru. The moment is gone, but the tension lingers. “Dinner’s in ten,” you say simply, turning on your heel to head back to the kitchen.  

Satoru watches you go, a bittersweet mien playing on his godly face. He knows he’s got a long way to go—but for now, he’ll take whatever moments he can get. It’s Christmas, he wants to make the most out of it. And if that means faking it til he makes it, then so be it. 

He’s not the only one faking. 

You three are seated at the circular table in your kitchen. the warmth of the meal and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the windows creating a cozy atmosphere. Koji chatters excitedly about his favorite Christmas movies as he eagerly digs into his plate, his small hands occasionally reaching for a cookie from the platter in the center. If Koji knew any better, he’d ask why his parents weren’t really talking to one another. 

And unfortunately, he does know better. 

“Mama? Papa? Why are you so quiet?”

Damn kids’ continent, but uncomfortable questions. 

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth, glancing at Satoru across the table. His eyes briefly meet yours before flicking back to Koji, his usual confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the question. “Quiet? We’re not quiet, bud,” Satoru says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “I’m just too busy stuffing my face to talk. This food is so good.”

Koji tilts his head, unconvinced. “But you always talk a lot, Papa. And Mama, you’re not smiling. I thought today was a happy day.”

Your grip on the fork tightens, the weight of Koji’s words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. You force a small smile, though it feels paper-thin. “It is a happy day, sweetie. Mama’s just tired from all the cooking, that’s all.”  

Koji frowns, his big, curious eyes shifting between you and Satoru. He’s far too perceptive for his age, and it’s moments like this that make it clear just how much he picks up on. Satoru clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, how about this? After dinner, we’ll all watch a Christmas movie together. You can pick, Koji. And then, we can open the presents.”  

Koji’s face lights up at the suggestion, but he’s not completely distracted. “Okay! But only if Mama picks, too. We all have to pick one!”  

You manage a soft chuckle, finally taking a bite of your food to avoid answering immediately. Satoru’s gaze lingers on you, and you can feel the unspoken words sitting heavy between you both. “That sounds like a deal,” you say after swallowing. “But only if you promise to eat all your vegetables first.”  

Koji scrunches his nose but nods. “Deal!”  

The rest of the meal is filled with Koji’s chatter, and though you and Satoru exchange a few words here and there, the tension remains. It’s not lost on either of you that Koji’s cheerful energy is doing the heavy lifting to make this feel like the family dinner it should be.  When the plates are cleared and Koji races to the couch to pick out the first movie, Satoru hesitates in the kitchen. He grabs a dish towel and starts drying the plates you’ve already washed, a small gesture that feels too intentional to be casual.  

“You don’t have to help,” you murmur, not looking at him. “I got it.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. There’s a pause before he adds, “I would’ve helped cook too, sorry I came later.”  

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression softer than you expected. “It’s okay,” you admit quietly. “It’s just dinner and opening gifts, I didn’t ask you to.”  

His hand stills on the plate he’s holding. “I know,” he says, his voice low. “But it’s still an obligation of mine, you don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here now, remember?”  

The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard. The truth to his words cause you to bite your lips, guilt sinking into your bones. It didn’t feel like one of those snide comments, but it had practically the same effect. And you know that he’s here, so he can handle some of your weight. However, it’s nonetheless hard to trust him with it, fearing it’ll be too heavy for him too. Before you can respond, Koji’s voice echoes from the living room.  

“Mama! Papa! Hurry up, the movie’s starting!”  

You sigh, drying your hands on a towel. “Let’s go before he starts it without us.” Satoru follows you to the couch, where Koji has already made a nest of blankets. As the movie begins, Koji snuggles between the two of you, his small hands clutching the remote.  He giggles, snuggling closer to you both, dropping the remote to the table. 

 It’s not perfect, but for tonight, it’s enough. It has to be, it’s Christmas. Although you’re not doing too much this holiday, not that you ever do, it still means a lot to Koji. Because he finally has his dad to spend it with. 

As the movie begins, Koji seems to have other plans. He grabs both of your hands—Satoru’s right and your left— bringing them in front of him and making them mash together. Immediately you tense up, just the slightest graze of Satoru’s long fingers having more of an effect on you than you anticipated. 

You pull away, Satoru’s hand lingers before he soon gets the hint. 

Koji frowns, head swiveling between his two parents. “Mama, Papa, you’re supposed to hold hands! That’s what families do,” Koji says, his little brows furrowing in frustration. His pout deepens, clearly displeased with your reaction.  

You give him a soft smile, hoping to smooth things over. “We are a family, Koji. We don’t need to hold hands to prove that,” you say gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.  

“But it’s Christmas!” he protests, his small hands still clutching yours and Satoru’s as if he could force them together by sheer will. “Santa says families should be happy and together on Christmas! That’s what they do in the movies.”  

Satoru chuckles lightly, though there’s a hint of something conflicted in his expression as he looks at Koji. “Santa sounds like a pretty smart guy,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly flicking to you before resting on Koji again. “But sometimes families have their own way of being happy, bud. It doesn’t always look the same.”  

Koji seems to consider this, his lips pursed in thought. “Okay… but can we all hold hands just for the movie?” His tone is pleading, his wide eyes impossible to say no to.  

You hesitate, feeling the weight of Satoru’s gaze on you, before finally relenting with a quiet sigh. “I….Alright, just for the movie,” you say, letting Koji place your hand back in Satoru’s.  

Satoru’s fingers brush against yours again, warm and steady, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The contact feels heavier than it should, but Koji’s delighted giggle pulls your focus back to him.  

“See? Now it’s perfect!” he exclaims, snuggling back into the blankets with a satisfied grin. He holds your conjoined hands. 

Satoru hums softly, unintentionally giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to the screen. The movie plays on, Koji’s laughter filling the room. And while the air between you and Satoru remains thick with unspoken words, for this moment, you let yourself stay in the quiet warmth of your son’s happiness.  

The warmth of Koji’s small hands on top of yours is grounding, even as the tension between you and Satoru buzzes just beneath the surface. You glance at him briefly, finding his expression softer than usual. He’s watching Koji, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but when he catches your gaze, something knowing lingers in his eyes.

You look back at the screen, ignoring the familiarity Satoru’s large hand brings you. It’s familiar but different at the same time. It feels a bit more calloused, proof of his own events he’s faced in his life during the time you were separated. 

And to him, your hand feels just as it always did. Warm, soft, and so perfectly fitting. It’s like two puzzle pieces, or a key to a lock. For a second, he compares how it feels to Himari before mentally chastising himself. That’s probably a fucked up thing to do. But he’s already done a lot of that in his life. His thumb runs smoothly across your knuckles, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You want to pull away, but your son is a reminder to keep up the act. 

The movie plays on, filling the silence with cheerful music and laughter, but you can hardly focus. Satoru’s hand is still resting lightly against yours, his thumb brushing against your rugged muscle every so often, whether intentionally or not. It sends a twinge of something—nostalgia, maybe?—through your chest. You shift slightly, trying to focus on the screen, but Koji’s contented sigh draws your attention back to him. He’s nestled between the two of you, his little face illuminated by the glow of the TV, looking completely at peace.

“Are you happy, Koji?” you ask softly, the words slipping out before you can think them through.

Koji nods emphatically, his grin widening. “Yeah! This is the best Christmas ever!”

Satoru chuckles, his voice low and warm. “That’s a pretty big claim, Koji. We haven’t even opened the presents yet. What makes it the best?”

“Because I have Mama and Papa,” Koji says simply, looking between the two of you with wide, earnest eyes. “I don’t need presents or anything. Just you two.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel Satoru’s hand tighten a bit around yours. You don’t twitch away this time, letting the moment settle over you like the soft glow of the fairy lights. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been emotional this entire week already, or the fact that Koji is just so happy, but you’re feeling yourself choke up. 

For a brief second, the weight of everything—the arguments, the hurt, the uncertainty—fades into the background. It’s just the three of you, here and now, and maybe that’s enough. “Merry Christmas, Koji,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Hiding a trembling lip against his white tresses. Your eyes close, forcing your tears to stay exactly put where they are. 

“Merry Christmas,” Satoru echoes, his voice unusually tender. He peers over at you from the corner of his eye, a gut-wrenching twisting at his stomach when he sees your expression. He wants to wipe away the crinkle between your eyebrows with his free hand, but he decides against it—probably not the best thing to do right now. He can only offer you a firmer hand on top of yours, cradling it like it’s a diamond. It’s like a warm quilt, it feels oddly comforting. 

Again, you’re getting nostalgic. Maybe that’s another reason why you feel like crying right now—knowing you only have this fleeting moment. Koji’s smile widens, his hands squeezing one last time before settling back into his blanket cocoon.

The hours pass, having watched multiple movies already. Koji’s on the edge of falling asleep before you carefully wake him up that it’s midnight. He practically jumps right back into action, all former sleepiness gone and relaxes with utter excitement. “Presents! We can open the presents!” He scrambles to the tree, already beginning to pick at the ones he wants to open. 

You smile softly, watching Koji bounce around with excitement, the energy from the day still shining brightly in his eyes. He’s so full of joy, so eager to unwrap the surprises you and Satoru managed to get for him. The sight warms your heart, even as a quiet tension lingers in the room.

Satoru, still leaning back against the couch, watches Koji with a mix of amusement and something more—something heavier. His lips twitch, as if trying to hold back a smile, but the look in his eyes when he glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Alright, baby,” you say softly, standing up from your spot. “Let’s open them, but remember, one at a time.”

Koji nods, his little hands already tearing into the first present like a whirlwind. He pulls out a small toy car and holds it up triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It’s just like the one I saw at the store!”

Satoru chuckles and ruffles his hair. “That’s a good one, Koji. I’m jealous. What else ya got?”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange, even as you reach down to grab the next present for Koji. But something still nags at you. The way Satoru looks at Koji, it’s so…heartwarming. It’s a look given only to his child, one a father could only give out. You feel both touched and warm at the same time. 

Tonight is about Koji, about making sure he feels loved and special. And while you and Satoru are at odds, you both are doing one hell of a job of making sure that it comes true. 

As Koji continues to unwrap gifts, the room fills with laughter and the sound of crinkling wrapping paper. Your heart swells watching him, but in the back of your mind, the remnants of the earlier tension refuse to fully fade. The space between you and Satoru feels both distant and strangely intimate all at once.

After maybe an hour, after admiring each gift right after opening it, Koji finishes opening his presents. You both settle back into the couch, Koji nestled between you, holding onto his new toys. There’s figurines—mainly Spider-Man or Avengers based—toy cars or motorcycles, a little rocket ship, hot wheels, a Nerf Gun, new clothes, he really got it all this year. Of course, most of the contribution was from Satoru. The silence stretches, but it feels softer now. The tension, although still there, feels more like a quiet hum in the background, overshadowed by Koji’s happiness.

“Thank you, Mama,” Koji says sleepily, his little voice thick with the exhaustion of the day. “And thank you, Papa.”

Satoru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Koji’s head. “You’re welcome, bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles, watching his son begin to put his Spider-Man on top of the motorcycle, sparing a glance back at the tree. It’s then his smile falters. 

“Oh, you forgot two, Koji.”

“Hm?” His son looks up, seeing the two gifts all the way at the back of the tree. Getting so distracted with all his other gifts, he must’ve forgotten about those two. He sets his toys to the side and crawls back onto the floor to reach for the gift bags. Reading the tags, he looks over at you. “Oh, Mama. These are from your friend.” 

When Koji stands up and hands you one of the presents, you’re suddenly reminded. Oh. In a way, you did also forget that Suguru got you and Koji something—just so wrapped up in watching Koji rip apart each of his gifts. You smile faintly, thumbs running over the intricate snowflake patterns. 

“Friend?” Satoru asks, his voice bringing you back to reality. 

Head turning over, you realize that his face has contorted—scrunched up slightly when he holds onto Koji’s gift, reading the name of the receiver. “Suguru?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a tint of disapproval. “When did he get you two something?”

You almost lie, feeling a random burst of gultuness hit you. But it’s gone as soon as it comes. Because Satoru’s voice sounds curlis in a sense, but also suspicious. It makes you feel a little irritated, holding back a light scoff. So what Suguru got you and Koji something? “He came over to drop it off.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best answer to give. Now Satoru’s body has faced you fully, eyebrow raising like he’s trying to put two and two together. But there’s nothing to put together. “And when was this?”

“A few days ago,” you reply back, firming your intonation. 

Satoru’s gaze narrows ever so slightly, and you can feel the shift in the air between you both. The tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface all evening suddenly intensifies. “A few days ago…” Satoru repeats, his tone now more deliberate.

“Is there a problem?” You ask, mirroring his reaction. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, very obviously holding back on something for the sake of his son and the holiday. Shaking his head and giving Koji’s gift back to him. “Nope, no problem.”

You can’t help yourself as you huff under your breath, focusing back on your son as he opens the gift. He gasps, yanking the tissue paper out and revealing a bright, shiny new Spider-Man action figure. His eyes widen with delight as he holds it up to you and Satoru, showing off the intricate details of the toy. "Look, Mama! Look, Papa! It's just like the new one I saw on TV!" He beams, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the room. “It talks and makes noises and lights up!”

You chuckle softly, finding his excitement endearing. "It's perfect, Koji. You’re going to have so much fun with that."

Satoru, however, seems distracted. He’s still watching you closely, his expression unreadable, though there’s a faint edge to his demeanor. You can tell he's trying to keep his composure, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

Koji has almost entirely disregarded his previous gifts to play with his new gift, his attention fully focused on the toy in his hands. 

Satoru clears his throat, the subtle sound pulling you back from your thoughts. "So, Suguru came by to drop off gifts...?" His voice carries a tone that’s almost too casual, but you don’t miss the hint of something more in his eyes.

You hold his gaze, the irritation bubbling up again. "Yes, he did. He’s been kind to us." You can’t help the defensiveness that creeps into your voice. "Is that a problem?"

Satoru doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he glances over at Koji, who’s happily occupied with his toy. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes again. "No, I didn’t say that. I just... I just didn’t know he was so involved."

You feel a knot form in your stomach. The subtle way he’s questioning you, the way his posture tenses every time Suguru’s name comes up—he’s feeling something, and you’re not sure how to read it. Before you can respond, Koji looks up from his toys, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Is something wrong, Papa? Mama?”

You both turn your attention to him, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. You force a smile, trying to keep things light. "No, Koji. Everything’s fine." You reach over to ruffle his hair. "Are you enjoying your presents?"

Koji nods enthusiastically, his smile wide. "Best Christmas ever!" he exclaims. He looks down at your gift. “Open yours, Mama. I wanna see what your friend got you.”

You hesitate, still trying to steady your emotions after the tension with Satoru. “Alright, sweetheart,” you say, holding your gift upright in your lap. Gently peeling away the wrapping, revealing a small, wooden box. The delicate craftsmanship catches your attention immediately. 

Koji’s eyes widen in anticipation. “What’s inside, Mama? What is it?”

You open the box, revealing a small silver pendant shaped like a star, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It’s beautiful—elegant and simple, a perfect fit for you. You trace your fingers over the smooth edges, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you smile at the thoughtful gesture. It comes with a thin silver chain, a small note underneath it. When you pull it out, it reads: 

“For the one who shines the brightest, even in the darkest of times.”

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words. It’s simple, yet so deeply personal. You trace the note with your fingertips, a mixture of warmth and something else stirring in your chest. You always mocked Suguru in the past for being so corny with his words, you never expected to be on the receiving end of them. And you never expected to blush from it either. 

“Isn’t it pretty, Mama?” Koji asks, his voice filled with genuine excitement. “I think it’s sparkly like the stars!”

You nod. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll look lovely on me,” You slide the pendant into your hand, clutching it for a moment longer before carefully setting it back inside. But, despite your best efforts to keep things together, you can feel the tension building again. Satoru’s look that he fails to hide is getting more on your nerves by the second. He’s acting like he has some right to be upset if his friend is giving you something. He’s acting like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is.

“Are you gonna wear it?” Koji asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Papa, won’t Mama look pretty with it?”

You peer over. “Of course, Mama will look pretty with it,” he says with a half-smile that’s forced. “She’s always beautiful, no matter what she wears.”

You scoff this time. What a load of shit. 

Koji squeals, clearly pleased with the answer. “Right, Mama? You’re the prettiest!”

You smile back, feeling warmth in your chest, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, sweetheart,” you mutter softly, trying to keep things light. 

It’s extremely late now. Koji has passed out in his room with the figurine Suguru got him. Satoru and you have cleaned up in complete silence, the awkward tension intensifying even more now that Koji isn’t here to mend that. There’s only the sound of the soft hum of the dishwasher as it runs. You wipe down the counter, your movements mechanical, each action making the silence stretch longer and longer between you. Satoru stands by the sink, wiping down the wet surface around it with a towel, his back to you. But you can feel his presence in the room like a weight pressing down on the air.

Neither of you says anything, the unspoken words piling up between you both. You can feel the tension crawling beneath your skin, just like before, but now there’s no Koji to distract you, no innocent question to break the silence. Just you and Satoru, both avoiding the inevitable conversation that looms in the background. Until he finally has the balls to do something. “He didn’t tell me he was getting you guys something.”

You pause, staring down at the clean surface. “Why would he have to tell you? It’s just a present.” Your hand moves again, moving onto the corner of the granite. 

Satoru bites his tongue, willing himself not to snark back. He turns his body around, eyes digging holes into the back of your head. “I mean, it’s a little strange.”

“How?”

“Because Koji is my son, you’re my ex.”

“So that suddenly means I’m incapable of receiving presents from other men now?” You whirl around, hands on your hips. “What did you say again? Oh, right. ‘Stop getting mad at little things’.” 

Satoru flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, not expecting you to snap back so quickly. But he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice is low, tight, as if he’s trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t like how...how weird that feels.”

You roll your eyes. “Right, weird, huh?”

“I’m not trying to argue, okay?”

“I’m not arguing either,” you quip back. “But you have no right to act like this is ‘weird’ when it’s not. You have no right to be even curious about who’s giving Koji and I gifts.”

“No right?” He huffs back at you, lip curling up. “I think I have all the right, Y/N. First off, he’s my son. Second off, we used to date. And third off, that’s my best friend. What kind of best friend—”

“Then maybe you should take that up with him.” You cut him off, chin tilting up. It’s getting harder by the second to keep things calm and composed. But Satoru shoving his fat nose into something that doesn’t involve him is testing every bit of patience you have. “I can get a gift from whoever I want, that’s none of your concern.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as you speak, his grip on the towel tightening, the vein in his neck twitching with barely restrained frustration. “None of my concern, huh?” His voice lowers, the words coming out sharp. “That’s funny, because it seems like everything I do, say, or feel ends up being your concern, whether you want it to be or not.”

You step closer, your heart racing as the anger rises in your chest, pushing against the barriers you’ve built. “Satoru, I’m done pretending like everything we do is some sort of tangled mess that you have the right to control. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, and Koji isn’t the reason I have to explain every little thing to you.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

“Then just shut the hell up about it already.”

Silence follows. 

The room feels colder now, the weight of your words settling heavily in the space between you. Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s weighing the next words carefully. He’s frustrated, no doubt, but something else lingers beneath it—something deeper, something that neither of you has dared to address.

You stand there, both of you frozen, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It feels as though time has stopped, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. Then, slowly, Satoru takes a breath and places the towel down on the counter, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice much softer now, but still tinged with frustration. “I get it. It’s not my place anymore.”

Your lips purse, feeling slightly caught off guard by his quick reluctance to further escalate things. But that’s a good thing, right? Swallowing down anything else, you nod stiffly. Eyes moving down to focus on anything else but him. Your hands awkwardly fiddle together. 

But he never looks away from you. Mind reeling about what to say or do next, fearing that he did in fact make a big deal out of nothing. It’s just presents, that’s it. But the quiet voice in his head nags at him more and more. But why didn’t Suguru say anything? Isn’t it at least some common courtesy to tell your best friend you’re getting his son and ex a gift? Even a simple text would have sufficed. 

But he didn’t do any of that. So Satoru’s brain feels like he tried to hide it—for a reason? He doesn’t know. Maybe he forgot? Still, he doesn’t like the knot that forms in his gut. 

A calming breath is taken to reset his system, shaking his head. Not tonight, not tonight. His fingers reach into the pocket of his coat, feeling a small, square box. He waits for a few seconds, unsure if he should continue on. Nonetheless, he does. Pulling out the little thing, presenting it in front of him. 

He clears his throat, you look back over at him. Head tilting slightly at the sight of the wrapped box with a tiny red bow. “…what is that?”

“My gift to you.” He murmurs out, holding it to you. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting. No words come out, feeling a multitude of varying emotions. It all ends with you reaching out for the box, shaking it a little. You hear a small clanking. Asking a stupid question like what is it will just keep your wary feelings alive. So, you carefully remove the light wrapping, slowly like you’re scared as to why you’ll see inside. 

You’re not scared. Just more confused. 

“A key?” You question, holding up the gold key in front of your face. It dangles as your vision focuses back on the man in front of you. “What is this for?”

Satoru watches you, his eyes a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something more vulnerable. He shifts slightly, hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense as if bracing himself for your reaction. “To your new place.” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words. A new place? Your mind struggles to catch up, trying to make sense of the statement. “My new place?” you repeat, still not sure if you heard him correctly.

Satoru nods slowly, his eyes now focused on the key in your hand. “I’ve been looking for something for you. For Koji. A place where you both can be… comfortable. It’s. A nice neighborhood, enough room. There’s a school next by and there’s open spots left.” His voice is steady, but there’s a tinge of something vulnerable in the way he says it—like he’s giving you space to decide, but also hoping for something more.

A rush of conflicting emotions hits you. You look down at the key again, your fingers curling around it as you try to process what he’s saying. “You… got me a place?” You repeat, still in shock over the fact that he went out of his way to do so. 

He shifts his weight, eyes still on the key. “Not just you. A place for you, Koji… and maybe even me, too. When I come to visit sometimes, there’s four bedrooms, one of them can be used as a spare.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Satoru has always been unpredictable, but this—this is different. It feels like he’s offering something more than just a space. It’s a possibility. A chance. But it also feels like an unspoken question, one that you’re not sure how to answer. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, looking at the key again. “Why now?”

Satoru steps closer, his expression softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “Because… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I know I’ve messed things up too for us, and I’m not asking for anything. Just… I thought it might be a good way to start fresh. For you and Koji. And you guys mean a lot to me, I want you to live in a nice space. Not…not somewhere like this. The people look shady.”

You stand there, the weight of his words sinking in. The offer is unexpected, yet strangely comforting. It’s not just about the apartment or the key—it’s about something deeper, something that might hold the possibility of fixing whatever things were broken.

But then, a quiet part of you wonders: Do I want this?

You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key tighter in your hand now. You bite the inside of your cheek, clutching the key in your hand now. The smooth, cold metal feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding all the unanswered questions and unresolved feelings between you and Satoru. You glance up at him, his expression open yet guarded, as though he’s trying to brace himself for any answer you might give.

“Satoru...” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, though there’s an uneasy tension in his posture. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just...I wanted to give you something. Something that’s yours.” His gaze flickers to the key in your hand. “No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe. If you don’t want it, I’ll still keep it around if you someday change your mind.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within you, but it also makes your heart ache. You swallow hard, your emotions swirling. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” you ask, your tone softer now, though still tinged with confusion.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured or think it was about me trying to fix everything all at once. It’s not like that. I just... I care about you. And about Koji. And besides, it’s Christmas.” He ends with a small smile, his right dimple peeking out. 

His words hang in the air, filling the silence between you. For a small instant, you don’t respond, your mind racing. This gesture—it’s thoughtful, maybe even selfless—but it’s also overwhelming. You hold the key closer, feeling its edges press into your palm, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. Finally, you exhale, your voice steady but quiet. “I need some time to think about this. It’s... a lot.”

Satoru nods, his blue eyes softening. “Take all the time you need. It’s yours, no matter what you decide.” He pauses, glancing toward the door. “Well, I should probably get going.”

Adjusting his coat, he takes one step out the kitchen before you stop him with a hand to his arm. A ring of fire burns up his arm and to his ears, slowly making its way to his cheeks when he looks back down at you. “I…I got you something…too.”

His eyebrows raise, not having expected you to give him something in return. Letting go of his arm, you walk to a small cupboard, reaching in and pulling out a square shaped gift. It’s wrapped in light blue wrapping with a red bow. You hand it to him and he takes it, feeling around. He already has an idea of what it is. 

“Open it when you get back.” You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He stares quietly for a small time, a hint of a smile almost making its way onto his face again. It’s cute how shy you look right now. Some things never change, do they? He nods, murmuring back. “Okay, thank you.”

With one final hum from you, he heads back to the door. His stomach feeling lighter. You hesitate, watching him turn toward the hallway. “Satoru.”

He stops, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, even if you’re still unsure about everything. “For thinking about us.”

A faint grin tugs at his lips, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Always,” he says softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with the key in your hand and your thoughts spinning.

You remain rooted in place, the key dangling lightly in your grip as the door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows feels deafening. The warmth of the holiday lights around the room does little to ease the cold weight settling in your chest. You sit down at the edge of the couch, staring at the key, your mind replaying Satoru’s words. No strings, no expectations. Just a place where you and Koji can feel safe.

It’s a generous gift, undeniably thoughtful, but it feels complicated—like every other thing in your relationship with Satoru. You know he means well, but the history between you makes it impossible to separate the gesture from the lingering emotions that bind you both. Your gaze shifts to the Christmas tree, now surrounded by Koji’s new toys. You can still picture his bright smile, hear his laughter from earlier in the evening. The thought of giving him a stable home, something truly yours, tugs at your heart. But then there’s the nagging voice in your head, reminding you of the tension tonight—the unspoken conflicts, the unresolved feelings, and the fragile line you and Satoru walk every time you see each other.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the key resting in your palm. Your eyes drift to the small silver pendant Suguru gave you earlier. It still sits on the coffee table, catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights. Another kind gesture. Another layer to the mess.

The soft patter of small feet interrupts your thoughts. Koji appears in the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his Spider-Man toy clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Mama?” he mumbles, his voice groggy. “Why are you still up?”

You quickly set the key on the table, forcing a smile. “Just cleaning up, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

He nods, yawning as he climbs onto your lap, resting his head against your chest. “Yes.”

“Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best Christmas ever.”

You hold him close, brushing his messy hair away from his forehead. “That’s all that matters,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. But even as you say it, your thoughts drift back to the key—and everything it represents.

Satoru has been staring at the gift—stil wrapped—for about fifteen minutes now. He’s conflicted. Unsure if he wants to know what you got him, or if it’ll bring on something unwanted. The gift sits untouched on the table before him, the wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Satoru leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand tangled in his hair as he stares at it. His jaw tightens, then relaxes, his thoughts spiraling in circles.

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s been sitting here, debating whether to open it.

He knows it’s just a gift. A simple, kind gesture. But with everything that’s happened tonight—the tension, the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—this small box feels heavier than it should. What if it’s something that reminds him of how things used to be? Or worse, what if it’s just a polite, distant gift, a reminder of how far apart you’ve drifted?

He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “It’s just a damn gift, Satoru,” he mutters to himself. Yet he doesn’t move, his blue eyes fixed on the box as if it might spring to life and deliver answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. 

He huffs a reluctant laugh, his hand finally reaching for the gift. His fingers trace the edges of the paper before he carefully begins to unwrap it, the sound of tearing paper filling the quiet room. Beneath the wrapping is a small black box, simple and unassuming. He lifts the top up and it drops to the side. 

His hands still in place, almost beginning to tremble. His breathing shallows, heart thumping quicker than before. Carefully—very carefully—he reaches in. Handling the object with utmost care, bringing it closer to his face. 

Two faces stare back at him. 

His son—undeniably younger, maybe around one year old. He’s being held in your lap, arms secure around his tiny stomach. He looks chubbier, cuter. Wearing a cute Christmas get up. Baby Santa. And when his eyes glaze over to you, he gulps. 

You’re wearing an equally festive outfit. A bright red sweater adorned with little snowflakes and reindeer, a simple black skirt to go with it. Your face is glowing with a smile so genuine, it knocks the breath out of him. Your hair is a little messier, your cheeks flushed with warmth, probably from laughing too much. Koji’s tiny hand clutches at your sweater, and your other hand is raised in a peace sign as you lean closer to him for the photo. 

Satoru’s fingers brush the surface of the photograph, his chest tightening as the memory pulls him under. It looks like a professional photo done, you must’ve gone all out that Christmas. Now, holding it in his hands, it feels like a physical snapshot of a life he had no chance of living in. 

His thumb grazes the edge of the picture frame it’s nestled in. It’s a simple wooden frame, painted white, with the words Our First Christmas Together etched across the top in tiny gold letters.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his vision blurring slightly. He blinks rapidly, trying to push back the emotions clawing at his throat. It’s not just the photograph—it’s what it represents. A time when things were simpler. When the two of you were a family, before everything unraveled. When it was just you and Koji—no room for him. 

The weight of the night presses on him again, harder this time. He feels foolish for hesitating to open the gift, for overthinking it, when you’d given him something so pure. Something so full of love. He pulls the frame in, swallowing hard as he leans back on the couch. He holds it close to his chest. His other hand runs through his hair, tugging slightly as he tries to steady himself. “Why’d you have to go and do this?” he whispers to no one, his voice breaking. He outwardly chuckles—bitter but affectionate. Warm tears sliding down his cheeks and resting atop the wooden frame. His lips press a small kiss to his baby son, and to you. 

Because now, more than ever, he realizes how much he still misses you. And how much he regrets letting it all slip away when he was too young and stupid to think clearly. 

That night when he heads to bed, he sleeps with the picture of his family next to him. Tucked in like it’s a physical being, and in a way, it is. 

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[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Alley (and Your Boyfriend?)

Minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. ~2.8k words

Jason Todd is your ex-boyfriend. Kind of. You dated, yeah, sure. But it was in high school, years ago now. You had moved away before the school year had finished, and both of you agreed to remain friends, to keep in touch.

Life had different plans for both of you. The last time you had been in Gotham was for his funeral, so you think you deserve some leeway if you're staring at the man across the bar who looks just like him. Well, not exactly like him.

You're supposed to be celebrating your new job in Gotham, the apartment you've finally unpacked with your friends, but his eyes.

You could never forget the color of Jason Todd's eyes. Not when he was your first everything. Not when you know how his eyes would glint before he stole a kiss. How they would shine as he whispered sweet nothings and pretty promises.

(Okay, so maybe he was more to you than you're willing to admit. Maybe he wasn't just kind of your boyfriend.)

You'd probably be lost in thought over the color of his eyes for the rest of night, if his gaze didn't happen to meet yours.

Heat spreads across your face, and you duck your head. Shit. He caught you staring. The big, attractive man across the bar who has the eyes of your dead ex-boyfriend caught you staring.

That's fine. Mortifying, yes, but you quickly focus back on whatever your friends are talking about, trying to play it off.

You're finishing your drink, hoping he brushed you off, when a low voice cuts in, "Can I buy you another drink?"

Your eyes snap up to meet Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Your train of thought halts to a stop, he's ever prettier up close.

Before you've even managed to find your words, your friends are pushing you up and out of your seat, scrambling over each other to agree that he can absolutely buy you a drink.

He tilts his head a little at you, feet firmly planted against the ground as he waits for you to answer, "Is that a yes from you, doll?"

"I– yes. Thanks," You stumble out, and you might have gone a little weak in the knees at his grin.

He guides you over to the bar, and holds up two fingers as the bartender comes over. "Whiskey, and whatever they want."

You ask for a refill of your drink and sit beside him at the bar before introducing yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "I'm Jason."

"My ex was named Jason," You blurt out, then wince. That's probably not what anyone wants to hear when they're introducing themselves. And it's definitely not what they want to hear while trying to pick someone up at a bar.

He hums thoughtfully, "I don't remember breaking up with you."

You blink at him, is that some kind of a pick-up line? "No, I meant, I really dated someone named Jason in high school."

He grins at you, "I know. I was there."

You frown a little, "Like in the same class?"

He laughs. It's a really pretty sound, if you weren't so confused, you would have swooned, "No, doll. Don't tell me you don't recognize me?"

Your gaze hardens, "If this is some kind of a joke–"

He says your name, effectively cutting you off, "It's me."

"He died," You murmur, so quiet it almost gets lost under the beat of the music.

He shrugs, and pushes your drink towards you as the bartender sets it down, "I got better."

"Prove it," You retort, fingers tapping the glass of your drink. You're this close to up and leaving. It makes your stomach churn, not knowing what game this man is playing.

He gives you a familiar, lopsided grin, "Prove that I got better?"

You scoff and go to stand up, but you waver at how he actually seems upset over it.

"Hey, hey, wait," he protests, holding out an arm to block you from leaving, "We had our first kiss in the back of Wayne Manor, in that old gazebo covered in vines. You asked me out because I was so obviously head over heels for ya, but I was too scared to ask. You said you'd wait for me when your family moved, and I said I'd wait for you too."

Your breath hitches at his rambling, it's–all of it is true. Memories you held close to your chest but never let yourself relive because of how much they hurt, the bittersweetness of it all. "Jason," You breathe out.

He relaxes, and smiles at you, "Yeah."

"How are you..." You trail off, taking in every inch of him. How much he's grown. How much he's changed.

He rubs the back of his neck, "It's, uh, a long story. It's not very nice either."

You nod slowly, "We don't have to talk about it."

He looks genuinely surprised, "We don't?"

"No, it's just good to, you know, see you," You tell him. It's the truth, whatever story he's carrying, whatever events brought him here, doesn't really matter right now. Not as long as he's alive and in front of you.

"It's good to see you too," Jason tells you, and you feel butterflies when he reaches over to touch your thigh, "Hey, am I really your ex?"

The absurdity of the question makes you want to laugh, "It has been a while since we talked, Jason."

You do giggle when he actually pouts at you, "You said you'd come back to Gotham for me one day."

"I am back in Gotham," You point out, "Got an apartment here and everything."

Interest sparks in his eyes, "Yeah? You're staying around here?"

You hum noncommittally, "In Gotham at least."

It surprises you, how easy it is to slip back into a flowing conversation with him. You reminisce about your shared past, he asks you what you've been up to, how your life has been, and before you know it, your drinks are empty and the bar is informing you of it's last call.

"Can I walk you home," Jason asks, hovering at your side, "or call you a ride?"

Your friends had long since told you they were leaving, and you have the urge to make this night last a little longer. It may be selfish, to want to stay in sight of those eyes, but you let yourself be selfish, "Walk me home?"

The way his eyes sparkle tells you you made the right choice.

You really do mean for him just to walk you home. So you're not exactly sure how you ended up making out with your ex-boyfriend in a dirty alley way.

It makes your head spin, how his hands dig into your waist to tug you closer. How he chases your mouth every time you pull back to suck in a breath.

It's desperate, needy, and you want to keep your fingers curled into the cool leather of his jacket forever. Jason crowds your space, backing you towards the wall, he trails kisses down your jaw, occasionally nipping at your skin to leave pretty, bruised marks.

"Wait–" You start, digging your heels into the ground.

He pauses, and pulls back, "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to–"

"No!" You practically shout, not wanting him to misunderstand, "it's just– the wall is dirty," You finish weakly.

He blinks, then grins at you, "Is that all you're worried about, doll? Just the wall?"

You nod, sheepish as you fidget with the zipper of his jacket.

He hums thoughtfully and kisses the crown of your head, "I got something for ya," he murmurs, tugging off his leather jacket.

Before you can ask what he's doing, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, and guides your arms through the sleeves, "There, better?"

"Better," You echo, much more willing to let him push you against the wall, to let him suck your pulse and press his hands under your clothes. The leather is soft, smells like him, and the bricks behind you don't even register as he presses against you.

You're both eager, both grasping at fabric and skin. Your eyes light up, when as you're licking a stripe up his neck, Jason tilts his head back and moans.

It's a noise you want to hear again, and when you take his ear between your teeth, you're rewarded with another sweet sound.

Neither of you waste any time to push aside the clothes you're wearing. Half-dressed and panting, you fumble with his belt in the empty alley. He doesn't hesitate to hike your leg over his hip, pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw.

"You're sure about this," Jason asks, lips hovering over the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.

"Yeah," You breathe out, tangling a hand in his hair to steady yourself, "Are you?"

"Never been more sure of anything," he says firmly, and bites down on your skin as if to seal his words as fact.

He's hungry, as he captures your mouth with another passionate kiss, and you're just as desperate and wanting. Desire pools in your gut as you grind your hips into his, voice pitching into a whine, "Please?"

The neediness in your eyes when you look up at him nearly makes his knees buckle, "Fuck, yes, doll. Whatever you want."

He's not one to make you ask again, and shamelessly presses a finger to your cunt. "Look at you," he breathes out, slowly pumping one finger in and out, gathering your wetness, "You're dripping."

You don't bother choking back the whine that escapes your lungs, only grab his hair tighter when he adds a second finger, carefully working you open for him.

His eyes, your breath catches, when his eyes seem to darken, coveting every reaction you have, every expression that flits across your face.

"Feels good, doll'" he coaxes, scissoring his fingers. When all you manage is a hazy nod, he grins and adds a third finger, curling them as he presses deeper, "C'mon, you can use your words."

"Jason, yeah, feels good," You answer, breathless and full of desire. You squirm, bucking your hips into his hand in an attempt to get him to move faster, "but I want you."

He hums thoughtfully, and presses the palm of his hand to your clit, grinding into the sensitive flesh. When your eyes flutter and your body clenches around him, he coos in approval.

"Good," he says fondly, pressing a kiss to your lips before slowly pulling his fingers away. You almost pout at the loss, but the sight of him lewdly licking off the remnants of you in his hand more than makes up for it.

Your jaw may have dropped, and you may have looked a little more dumbfounded than you're willing to admit, but any embarrassment turns to excitement when he lines his cock up to your weeping pussy.

Neither of you looks away as he pushes into you, inch by delicious inch. It turns you into a whimpering, groaning mess as you sigh out his name, eyes half lidded.

“Yeah, pretty,” He prompts, voice a low rumble as he watches you. He can't pick which sight he likes better, the way your eyes flutter, or the way you're greedily taking in everything he has to give.

He can’t help the smug smirk that spreads over his face when you mewl out his name, clearly delighted at the effect he has on you. “There you go, Doll. Let me hear you say my name again," He coos, trailing his free hand over your thigh to find your clit again.

You're eager to chant his name again when he starts to shallowly thrust between your legs. He moans when you clamp down around his dick, and it spurs him to move faster.

Jason groans deeply as he feels your body react, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushes into you again. You both breathe out a sigh of relief and ecstasy when you take him to the base of his cock.

"Good. Doing so good, doll," he mumbles, using all his self-control to hold the pressure against your cervix for a few moments, letting you adjust, before pulling back slightly.

You tug a little at his hair, it's addicting, how full he makes you feel, how desperate you are for more, "You can move, want you to move."

He hums, and seems more interested in moving his mouth along your jaw, biting and sucking his way down your neck to leave marks on your skin. Jason sucks a prominent bruise onto your freshly bitten skin until it’s pretty and bruised and all his.

You groan, and it only encourages him to drag his hand from your folds and pinch your nipple between his fingers.

"Jason," You protest, rolling your hips to try and entice him to finally move.

“Mhm. You like the sound of my name, pretty? You wanna keep saying it while I make you feel good?” He murmurs, his voice low and rough and breathless against your skin.

He starts to roll your nipple between his fingers, pinching and kneading the sensitive peak.

"Jason, move'" You whine, almost desperate. His eyes lock on your eyes, and you're completely lost to him.

His thumb gives your nipple one last swipe before he settles his hand between your thighs again, eyes raking over your face like he wants to memorize the expression of pleasure that’s taking over at the moment, "There you go, it sounds so perfect when you say my name like that."

His other hand squeezes your thigh affectionately, and before you can protest again, he pulls halfway out, savoring how you twitch around him. You cry out in pure pleasure when he thrusts back into your heat.

He swallows your cries with a kiss, and starts to pick up his pace, steady and relentless.

You can only tip your head back and moan, as you drag your nails along his scalp, panting and trembling under his grip.

“So goddamn good,” Jason mutters, pressing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. He starts to ramble your name, driving his cock against the spot that makes you gasp over and over.

He's relentless, all consuming and you almost miss it when he murmurs against your throat, "Not your ex now, am I?"

You curse, and shudder around him, clawing at his shoulder. It doesn't make his pace falter, if anything it drives him to push a little more, to move a little fast, to test your limits.

You feel his pleased smile form against your skin when you start to chant his name, breathless and needy and so, so close to the edge.

"There ya go, come for me, doll," he encourages, and when you do, when you soak his cock and sob his name, he fucks you through your climax.

He ruts into your fluttering hole until his own hips stutter, his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and he cums inside of you. He rides out both of your releases, fucking his spend back into you even as it starts to leak and drip down your thighs.

Jason presses his forehead to yours, going still against you, his eyes dart over your face as you both pant, sticky, sweaty, and messy. He grins at you when you blink at him with glassy eyes, "You look good like this. I could see it every day, and it still wouldn't be enough."

You're not exactly sure where he finds the energy to praise you, but it makes you tuck your face against his shoulder as you catch your breath.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Gonna take you home and run you a bath. Then, we're gonna cuddle till you fall asleep and I'll make you breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"

You whine softly when he pulls out of you, already mourning the feeling of him inside you, but you manage to nod.

True to his word, Jason carries you home and draws you a bath. You fall asleep with him curled around you, and when you wake up, the sound of him cooking breakfast makes its way to the bedroom.

And if you entice him to bend you over the counter before you eat, letting the food go cold, or suggest you show him just how well you fit in his lap, that's none one's business but yours.

It shouldn't surprise you, if you do encourage him to find out what you taste like on his tongue, that Jason never really leaves. Sooner rather than later, he'll make sure any use of the word 'ex' disappears from your lips.

[hemlock-dreams]

Not me absolutely frothing at the mouth about this AU. Can we get an info dump on the Lore? It's making me want to abandon my current Spideypool WIP for this. Absolutely terminal brainrot for this boy

BEHOLD: MASSIVE LORE DUMP!

Peter B. Parker is a young troublemaker who has a problem with authority. He also has a knack for picking tech apart and putting it back together, which puts him on the radar for a small-time gang that needs someone to act as their alarm system breaker for a big score.

Unfortunately, said score had bad intel and what was supposed to be a simple robbery turns out to be manslaughter when the resulting fire that was supposed to cover up their tracks ends up killing two guards.

Peter is tried as an adult with the rest of the gang and sentenced to Rykers for 5 years.

Check out the full page HERE.

At Rykers, Peter meets Marko Flint, who takes Peter under his wing. and teaches him how to survive and thrive when wearing the orange.

Life goes on for 5 years. He learns the trade, gets some tats, learns how to make some great shivs, and becomes a better criminal all around. Yay prison!

Peter gets out at 21, and reunites with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He does his best to clean up his act, but normal life is hard for someone who spent their formative years in prison.

(He also makes questionable hair and fashion choices. What can I say, he's catching up!)

He goes from job to job, trying to pay back his aunt and uncle for all their support but is completely unequipped for the 'real world.' After a few months working/getting fired from soul-crushing menial jobs (HS dropout!), he agrees to take 'one last job' with Marko that is 'guaranteed to set them up for life'.

*cough*

This robbery goes off without a hitch! No one is hurt and they make off after hitting a heavily armored Oscorp Transport with a ton of documents/tech that they aim to sell to the highest bidder.

The biggest mystery is that one glowing vial of untested, experimental serum they found...

Unfortunately, Oscorp doesn't take robbery lightly. Marko finds out through contacts that the serum (whatever it is) is too hot to sell on the market, so he instructs Peter to get rid of it so it can't be traced back to them.

Peter, a rational 22-year-old ex-con, 'gets rid of it' by mixing the serum into ink and tattooing it onto his wrist, triggering the start of his mutations.

It takes a bit, but Peter get's all the regular spiderman benefits (webs are organic), plus one more. The serum was created from the venom of the Portia Spider, a hunting/jumping spider known to be uniquely intelligent among arachnids.

Alongside the speed/strength/spideysense, Peter also grows some fangs that secrete a powerful venom.

The venom speeds up the body's processes, working almost like an insane performance booster and enhancing an injected person's strength, speed, and senses for a few hours.

Unfortunately, repeated doses also eventually induce shock, paralysis, and, later, death.

He gives a few samples of it to Marko as an exit fee.

Uncle Ben was suspicious of how Peter suddenly got so much money, but took him on good faith. But, while he was watching the news that covered the Oscorp robbery, connected the dots and had a blowout fight with Peter that ended with him having a cardiac event.

Unfortunately, he did not survive.

Aunt May and Peter were estranged over this for several years.

This event crushes Peter, sobering him up immediately. He goes back and gets his HS diploma, and works on night courses in college.

However, he spends much of his days wandering, angry at himself and what he did. He beats up a mugger one day and realizes that he could be using his powers to back up the faith Ben had in him.

Spiderman is born!

Eventually, he and Aunt May reunite, and their relationship is slowly healing.

A few years later, Peter is on the up. He and Aunt May are close again! He's got a bachelor's in computer science, has a (semi) steady job, and is well-liked as Spiderman by the populace at large. His rogue's gallery is roguing- etc.

Unfortunately, a variant of his venom (developed by Kingpin) hits the streets as a drug. It's favored by both criminals for its performance-enhancing strength, as well as civilians, for the time-slowing sensation/high it gives them.

His girlfriend, Mary Jane, who has been sober for a few years, relapses. Peter, knowing that he can't stop her from getting it on her own, reveals his identity and becomes her main source.

At least, this way, he can control the dosage.

Marko (who sold Peter's venom to Kingpin) manages to fire off his only two brain cells and realizes that Spiderman IS Peter Parker.

Then he outs him to the world because Spiderman made it personal.

Peter's life catches on fire. The entire world is after him. His loved ones have to go into hiding because there's no shortage of criminals and psychopaths who want to get their hands on MJ and Aunt May to get to Spiderman.

Peter ceases to exist. It's not safe anymore. He spends days (weeks? months?) in the suit. Eventually, on the run and burnt out, he pleads his case to Dr. Strange in desperation. (Ala No Way Home)

"Everyone deserves a clean start."

Dr. Strange agrees, but the spell can't work with Peter still existing as part of the equation. So it fires him off into a reality where Peter B. Parker, and by extension Spiderman, never existed.

So how's an ex-con/ex-superhero (for now) supposed to carve a space in a world that never knew him? By finding somewhere that doesn't ask any questions.

And it just so happens, that St. Margaret's School for Wayward Children has a reputation for both being a bar of questionable repute and looking the other way.

Might as well start there.

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for this lovely, lovely ask! I hope this massive lore dump wasn't overkill, but I'm having a lot of fun with this world and wanted to share.

And I offer this lore dump ONLY on the condition that you do not drop whatever you're working on. There is always space for more spideypool in the world, don't deprive us!!!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: When his son says that you're the favorite parent, all of Zayne's rules go out the door.

Warnings: Fluff

*First time writing for him and it's a dad drabble🥹 will definitely be doing an actual oneshot for him in the future

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“Liam, finish your food.” Zayne tells the three-year-old, pushing the plate towards the child. Liam pushes it away again, shaking his head in response. He’s eaten a good portion of the food, leaving behind the most important part. “You won’t grow big and strong if you don’t finish your vegetables.”

“I don’t want more.” The boy says, and Zayne sighs. How should he proceed? Zayne’s dealt with a lot in his life, though this has to be the hardest thing he’s dealt with so far. A human so small is causing him to gray earlier than usual.

“If you don’t finish, you won’t get dessert.” Zayne threatens, and it makes the child’s little eyebrows furrow. He crosses his tiny arms before claiming,

“This is why I love mommy more.”

Zayne doesn’t get hurt over trivial things. A child claiming that it has a favorite parent is something that is momentarily, and it’s often decided by which parent spoils them the most. So it shouldn’t hurt when his son says that you’re the child’s favorite parent, right?

“That’s fine. You’re still not getting dessert.” Zayne tries to play it off as if the words don’t sting. The child begins to eat his vegetables since he doesn’t want to miss out on the sweet treat. Even if he isn’t the favorite parent, he’s doing his job right.

Though things begin to change around the home, and you’re quick to notice. Zayne is more lenient, allowing Liam to get away with things that he would’ve gotten scolded for before. Many rules that had been set by Zayne have gone out the door. The child is doing just fine without the rules, but you can’t help but question your husband while you’re putting away the groceries,

“I thought you wouldn’t buy this brand of cereal for him because it’s too unhealthy.” You point out, examining the box of cereal that you hold in your hand. He hums in response.

“He pointed at it and said he wanted to try it so I got it for him.” He answers, and you furrow your brows. It’s so unlike him. You don’t know how you feel about this version of your husband, but you do miss him being overprotective over his son.

“What’s up with you?” You question, and he tries to act like this is completely normal behavior from him.

“What do you mean?” He responds, and you have to walk over to him. He’s in the middle of putting away something, and you snatch it from his hands and put it on the counter before your hands cup his face.

“Who are you and what did you do to my husband?” You watch him avert his gaze, which is a dead giveaway that something is wrong with him. “Why aren’t you being overprotective of Liam?”

“He said he loves you more.” He admits, and it makes you want to laugh, but you hold it back. It melts your heart to see just how much Zayne values his son’s opinion, but he should know that he shouldn’t take everything to heart. “ Maybe I’m doing too much, and I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Liam, come here, honey!” You yell, and while you wait for the three year old to make his way to the kitchen, you inform Zayne of a crucial detail, “I scolded him earlier for something.”

“What?” Liam asks as he enters the kitchen. You let go of Zayne and look at your son.

“Who do you love more, mommy or daddy?” You question, and the child looks back and forth between you and Zayne. And just as you predicted, he points to Zayne.

“Daddy isn’t mean.” Liam tells you, obviously still mad about what you did earlier. You roll your eyes while Zayne sheepishly smiles. And he really let his son’s words affect him this much?

“Why are you smiling?” You don’t even have to look back at Zayne to know that he is. He lets out a chuckle, relieved to know that Liam doesn’t actually have a favorite parent.

“Sorry, my love.” Zayne kisses your temple before reaching for the cereal that he just bought, and throwing it in the trash. He won’t be needing that anymore. “I have to clean out the pantry as well.” 

You walk over to the pantry to see what he means, and your eyes widen at the amount of junk food that he bought to please his son. You can’t help but laugh, noticing the lengths your husband will go to make sure that he’s the favorite parent.