#and not only did it not work he’s now stuck with a CONSTANT REMINDER OF THE FRIEND HE LOST AUGH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedensworld · 2 months ago

Text

Favorite Cat | k.mg

Pairing: Basketball Player Mingyu! x Roommate Reader!

Genre: Roommate to lover au!

Type: fantasy, fluff

Words Count: 14k

Summary: After being roommates for years, Mingyu finally see 'your' cat for the first time—and it's not technically a cat.

Mingyu pushed open the door to his apartment, the weight of the crutches under his arms feeling heavier than his own body. His right leg, wrapped in a brace, ached with every small movement, a dull reminder of the career-threatening injury he had suffered during practice. The air inside was still, silent—too silent. Usually, he wouldn’t have noticed, but tonight, the quiet felt suffocating.

The moment he stepped inside, reality hit him all over again. No more training. No more games. No more adrenaline-pumping moments on the court. He had spent years building his life around basketball, and now, with one wrong landing, it was all on pause.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he forced a breath through his nose. Positive mindset, positive mindset… at least, he would have a year to rest. A whole year to recover, reset, maybe even enjoy things outside of basketball. But who was he kidding? His life revolved around the game. The thought of sitting on the sidelines, of watching his teammates push forward without him, gnawed at his chest like an open wound.

With a grunt, he shuffled further inside, his good leg bearing most of his weight. But just as he adjusted his crutches, his left crutch suddenly slipped, and his balance wavered. A sharp jolt of panic shot through him as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Shit!” he hissed, his grip tightening just in time to prevent himself from crashing down. He glanced at the floor, only to see a crumpled wet tissue stuck beneath his crutch—the likely culprit. His brows furrowed as he glared at it, frustration bubbling in his chest.

You. You must have left it there before heading out.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but right now? He couldn’t even bend down to pick up a damn tissue. With a defeated sigh, he leaned against the wall, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat.

That tissue was staying there until you got home. And when you did, he was going to make sure you heard about it.

Mingyu lowered himself onto the couch with a groan, adjusting his injured leg carefully on the cushion. The dull ache was a constant reminder of everything he had lost—at least for now. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and started typing out a message to you.

Mingyu: Got injured. Won’t be playing this season. Basically jobless now, stuck at home 24/7.

Mingyu: Except for when I have to stay in the hospital for surgery. Yay, fun.

Mingyu: Anyway, just letting you know before you freak out or something.

He hit send, then leaned back against the couch. But before he could even set his phone down, he heard a familiar notification sound—from the kitchen.

Mingyu’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t his phone.

Slowly, he turned his head, spotting your phone sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter. His lips parted in disbelief before he let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Of all the times for you to forget your phone, it had to be now? He shook his head, rubbing his temple. How could you be clumsier than him? At least he had an excuse—he was injured. But you? You were just naturally chaotic.

Six years ago, you and Mingyu met at a volunteer project for an animal rescue club. You—a self-proclaimed cat lover—had eagerly signed up, hoping to spend your time caring for rescued kittens. Mingyu—a very proud dog person—joined with equal enthusiasm, but for the dogs. Naturally, the two of you had nothing in common.

That was until fate decided to be cruel.

On your first day, you were assigned to work together. Not with kittens. Not with puppies. But with snakes.

Both of you despised snakes. Yet there you were, forced to clean their enclosure, standing stiffly at opposite ends of the room, watching the creatures slither while pretending to be unbothered. That pretense lasted all of five minutes before Mingyu nearly tripped over his own feet, sending you shrieking into a corner. From then on, your dynamic was set—filled with bickering, sarcastic remarks, and the occasional truce when neither of you could deal with a particularly terrifying task.

Fast forward a few months, and somehow, your lives became even more tangled.

Mingyu’s dorm contract was expiring, and he was scrambling to find a new place. Meanwhile, your landlord had suddenly hiked up your rent, making it impossible for you to afford the place on your own. The solution was painfully obvious. So, despite your history of playful feuds, you reached out to him with an offer—split the rent and become roommates.

Mingyu agreed.

And, surprisingly, living with you wasn’t as bad as he had expected. You cooked, you cleaned, and you practically ran the apartment while he was barely home, only crashing on his rare days off. When he did have free time, he’d find you deeply immersed in your work as a linguistic researcher—something he never quite understood, no matter how many times you patiently explained it. But over time, he started noticing little details about you.

One, you loved meditation.

Your yoga mat was always neatly rolled up in the corner, and the scent of aromatherapy candles lingered in the apartment. Some mornings, he’d wake up to the sound of soft instrumental music playing from your room—peaceful, calming, something he’d never admit he actually found nice.

Two, you enjoyed tea and reading.

The kitchen cabinet had an entire shelf dedicated to neatly arranged tea bags, and your mug collection was surprisingly excessive for one person. Whenever Mingyu came home early, he’d often find you curled up on the couch, book in hand, a warm cup of tea beside you. You looked so at ease in those moments that even he, someone who never had the patience to sit still for long, could appreciate the tranquility of it.

Three, you had a cat. Or at least, you claimed to.

This one, however, was a mystery. Mingyu had never seen the cat. Not once. And yet, there was a litter box, a food container labeled with a cat’s name, and bags of cat food neatly tucked away in the cabinet. It didn’t make sense. If you had a cat, where was it? Was it hiding? Was it imaginary? At this point, Mingyu was starting to wonder if you were messing with him.

Mingyu was about to scroll mindlessly on his phone when his ears suddenly caught a faint sound—a soft, whimpering noise coming from right beside him.

His brows furrowed. That was... a cat?

Before he could process it, the blanket next to him shifted, a small lump moving underneath. Then, out of the folds of fabric, a white cat slowly emerged, its fluffy body trembling as it cautiously peeked up at him with wide, round eyes.

Mingyu froze.

For months, he had questioned this cat’s existence and now, here it was, staring right at him. His injury, his frustration, the long, miserable day he would be having—suddenly, none of it mattered. The only thing occupying his mind now was how ridiculously cute this cat was.

"Hey..." Mingyu said softly, barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the tiny creature.

The cat flinched at the sound of his voice, its small body shivering ever so slightly. Mingyu could feel the hesitation radiating off of it, its big, untrusting eyes locked onto him.

"That's okay," he reassured gently, keeping his voice calm. "I'm Y/n’s roommate. I live here too, just like you."

He stayed perfectly still, giving the cat space, hoping it wouldn't bolt and disappear like some kind of spirit again. A tiny part of him—the competitive part—was determined to win this cat over.

Before Mingyu could even think about reaching out, the white cat suddenly bolted.

In a flash of fur, it leaped off the couch and sprinted across the living room with an urgency that made Mingyu blink. He barely had time to react before the cat launched itself at your bedroom door—and to his absolute shock, it jumped up, grabbed the doorknob with its tiny paws, twisted it, and pushed the door open.

Mingyu sat there, mouth slightly agape.

The door creaked open just enough for the cat to slip inside, and then—slam! The door shut from the inside, as if the cat had personally decided that Mingyu was no longer allowed in its presence.

For a long moment, all Mingyu could do was stare at your now-closed bedroom door, trying to process what had just happened.

Then, finally, he muttered under his breath,

“…Is that actually a cat?”

"I met your cat, Caty, yesterday," Mingyu announced as he walked out of his room, his voice still thick with sleep.

You barely glanced at him, focused on the eggs sizzling in the pan. "Want some?" you asked.

Mingyu held up four fingers. "Make it four."

"Put some spinach, please," he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You ate all of it two days ago," you shot back instantly.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. He had thought there was still spinach left, only to realize that, yet again, he hadn’t gone grocery shopping in months.

As he took a seat at the counter, he leaned forward on his elbows. "By the way, about Caty," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "She’s not a cat, right?"

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean, she immediately bolted when she saw me," Mingyu said, his tone half-exasperated, half-amused. "Then she—get this—jumped up, twisted the doorknob with her tiny paws, and slammed your bedroom door shut in my face."

He leaned back, laughing at the memory, his deep chuckle filling the kitchen.

"She hates people," you said simply, placing his plate of eggs in front of him. "Especially you."

Mingyu scoffed, clearly offended. "Excuse me? That was the first time she saw me—how could she hate me already?" He crossed his arms dramatically. "Girls will be girls, I guess."

Rolling your eyes, you placed a pair of chopsticks beside his plate before untying your apron and hanging it up.

Mingyu's gaze flickered to your outfit—plaid shirt, sweater, and your signature gray glasses resting on your nose. His brows furrowed. "You're leaving again?"

"I have work," you replied, slipping your bag over your shoulder. "Unlike someone who’s injured and stuck at home for a year."

Mingyu scowled. "That was uncalled for." But then he perked up, grinning. "Still, at least I met your cat."

"Whatever, Mingyu. Caty hates you—just like I hate you. I’m going."

Mingyu burst out laughing. "You love me!" he called after you.

"The opposite!" you yelled back, slamming the door behind you.

Mingyu never thought an injury could slow him down this much. Being forced to stay home, get plenty of rest, and eat healthy, home-cooked meals felt like a punishment at first. But to his surprise, the food was actually good.

He never realized you were this skilled in the kitchen. Sure, he knew you could cook—he had been eating your leftovers and stealing bites from your plates for years—but now that he was home for every meal, he was truly appreciating it. His days were suddenly filled with steaming bowls of soup, neatly arranged side dishes, and hearty meals that made recovery feel a little less miserable.

And the more time he spent at home, the more he realized just how little he actually knew about you.

You had always been the "mystery roommate" in his life—someone who was just there whenever he came back after a long day, quietly keeping the apartment running while he was off chasing his own schedule. But now, with nothing to do but observe, he found himself studying you.

Your routine—or rather, your lack of a consistent one—was oddly amusing to him.

One morning, you were up at dawn, doing yoga on your mat with soft meditation music playing in the background. The next day, you barely rolled out of bed on time, rushing through breakfast while half-asleep.

Some evenings, you came home and immediately sat at the dining table, sipping tea and reading quietly like some calm, sophisticated scholar. Other nights, you collapsed on the couch face-first, dead asleep within seconds.

It was as if you didn’t live by a routine at all—just a collection of habits that changed depending on your mood.

Is that even considered a routine?

But what entertained him the most was just how much you slept.

After work? Nap.

After dinner? Nap.

Before bed? Another nap.

If he were to break down your day, at least 70% of it was spent sleeping.

Mingyu had never met someone so committed to maximizing every second of rest. You woke up exactly one hour before your commuting time, never earlier. Sometimes, you even set multiple alarms just to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep.

And the funniest part? Now that Mingyu was home all the time, you started making breakfast for him, too.

Not because you wanted to. But because if you didn’t, Mingyu would guilt-trip you.

"You forgot about my existence, Y/n?" he would dramatically gasp over the phone if he caught you sneaking out without feeding him first.

"You have hands," you would grumble.

"But you make it better," he would whine, and somehow, that always worked.

A week after his first surgery, Mingyu was lazily scrolling on his phone, booking a cab for his rehab appointment when you suddenly spoke up.

"You have rehab today?"

He glanced up, surprised that you even remembered. "Yeah," he mumbled, still tapping at his screen.

"I'll drive you," you said casually.

Mingyu froze mid-scroll.

"You have a car?" he asked, staring at you as if he had just discovered a whole new side of you.

"Yeah?" you replied, confused.

His mouth fell open. "You're rich…"

You snorted. "It's my dad’s."

Mingyu clutched his chest dramatically. "And you're driving me? You’re—" he gasped. "You’re personally escorting me? This is love, isn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your keys. "Just hurry up," you muttered.

Mingyu grinned, slowly getting up from the couch, his movements sluggish as he adjusted his crutches. You waited by the door, watching as he hobbled over at a painfully slow pace.

"This is taking forever," you muttered.

"You try walking with one leg," Mingyu shot back.

Still, even as he struggled, even as he whined the whole way down to the car, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

Because, for the first time in forever, you were driving him somewhere. And for some reason, that made his day.

During dinner, Mingyu brought up something that had been bugging him for weeks.

"It's been two months, and I still haven’t seen Caty since that first time," he complained between bites, setting his chopsticks down dramatically.

You barely looked up as you reached for a piece of the chicken dish—one that Mingyu had proudly insisted on making that evening, just because he had groceries delivered in the afternoon.

"Why are you so obsessed with my cat?" you asked, popping a bite into your mouth. To your surprise, it was actually good.

"This is good," you admitted, pointing at the chicken.

Mingyu’s lips curled into a smug grin. "Of course it is."

You shook your head at his self-satisfaction and returned to eating, but Mingyu wasn’t about to drop the real conversation.

"Caty is so cute. Her eyes are huge, and her fur is so fluffy. I want to bite her," he said with a dreamy sigh, as if he were talking about some mythical creature he had only encountered once in a vision.

"You saw her just once," you deadpanned.

"And I want to see her again." He leaned forward eagerly. "Come on, where is she? She’s in your room, right?"

You hummed, neither confirming nor denying it, but your head shook slightly. "Caty is a very solitary creature. She doesn’t like company. She doesn’t even like my calm and reserved company."

"Maybe she likes mine," Mingyu said nonchalantly, as if that were the most logical thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes. "Good luck with that."

The conversation drifted to other things as the two of you finished dinner. Later, as you plopped down on the couch, stomach full and ready to unwind, you flipped through the channels until you landed on an animated movie.

Mingyu, with nothing better to do, joined you, stretching out comfortably on the other end of the couch. The movie followed a boy who lived apart from his parents, only for tragedy to strike when they unexpectedly passed away.

A quiet moment settled between you both as you watched. Then, out of curiosity, you asked, "Do you miss your parents?"

Mingyu didn’t hesitate. "Sometimes," he said, his voice casual but thoughtful. "But they don’t live too far. I visit them sometimes."

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the screen, but something about his answer stuck with you.

Mingyu had always been surrounded by people—friends, teammates, fans. Yet, for someone who thrived on companionship, he never really talked about his family.

And for the first time, you found yourself wanting to ask more.

"How was your childhood, Mingyu?" you asked, your voice light but curious.

Mingyu didn’t even hesitate. "I’ve always been a bright child. Very likable, very—"

"Noisy," you muttered under your breath.

Unfortunately, he heard it.

"Hey," he shot you a look, placing a hand over his chest as if you’d deeply wounded him. "I call it opinionated, sweetheart. And my parents were very lovely with their children, by the way."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I can tell."

Mingyu turned to look at you then. He didn’t like how the atmosphere had shifted. Talking about his sunshine-filled, warm family was natural for him, but it was almost as if… you couldn’t relate.

He wanted to ask.

He wanted to know more about you.

But instead, he changed the subject. "How did you meet Caty?"

You let out an exaggerated sigh, fingers pressing against your temple. "Not with Caty again!"

"Why not? Caty is your family, right? I'd like to know!"

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the screen. "Caty..." you started, your voice unusually soft. "Caty has always been there. She's always been there with me."

Mingyu frowned slightly. "She doesn’t look old."

"We age like fine wine. It’s in our DNA."

Mingyu snorted. "So, she’s your daughter?"

You smiled, but instead of answering, you turned your head back to the movie.

And for the first time, Mingyu really looked at you.

The soft glow from the TV illuminated your face, casting shadows along your features, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the way your lips curled ever so slightly, the way your eyelashes framed your eyes.

You were beautiful.

Like, very beautiful.

And what surprised him the most… was that he had never really noticed before.

One night, Mingyu noticed that you hadn’t come out of your room since the afternoon. You hadn’t even touched your dinner. He remembered you mentioning your latest research paper and how much of a pain it had been, but he found it annoying how focused you could get—so much so that you skipped meals without a second thought.

Grabbing his crutch, he slowly made his way toward your door, knocking gently before calling your name.

"Y/n, you haven’t had dinner," he said, eyeing the takeout he had ordered for you hours ago, now cold and untouched.

Silence.

"Y/n?" His voice softened, worry creeping in. "You okay? I'm coming in, alright?"

But when he carefully pushed the door open, he was met with an empty room.

His brows furrowed. You had gone out? Without a word?

He was about to leave when something caught his eye—a small, curled-up figure on your bed, rising and falling gently with each breath.

A white furball.

Caty.

Mingyu's heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting months for this moment.

He stepped inside, moving as quietly as he could, marveling at the sight of the elusive cat finally in the flesh. "Caty…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid of startling her.

The cat stirred, her ears twitching as she opened her wide, curious eyes. But the moment she realized who was approaching, she immediately scooted away, eyeing him with distrust.

Mingyu huffed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Don't be afraid, Caty. I’m Y/n’s friend. Y/n, your owner, who, by the way, left you all alone tonight. Can you believe that?"

His gaze wandered, and his frown deepened when he spotted her food bowl—completely empty.

"Ah, no wonder you’re grumpy," he muttered, shaking his head.

Determined, he hobbled toward the cabinet where he had seen you store Caty's food before. It took some effort, balancing on one crutch while scooping out the dry kibble, but as soon as he poured it into the dish, Caty sprang to life.

She ran straight to the food, brushing past him as if he was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in her path.

Mingyu blinked, then grinned. Progress.

His heart softened as he watched her eat eagerly. "How dare you leave her hungry, Y/n," he mumbled under his breath.

Carefully, he reached out, fingers hesitating just above her fur before finally making contact.

Soft. So soft.

Caty stiffened for a moment but, to Mingyu’s utter delight, she didn’t run. Instead, she let out a quiet purr.

Mingyu clapped a hand over his mouth, barely stopping himself from squealing.

"Oh my god," he whispered, eyes shining. "You’re my favorite cat. Can’t believe Y/n’s been gatekeeping you from me."

Caty continued eating, completely indifferent to his excitement.

Mingyu smirked, scratching behind her ear. "Your loss, Y/n," he murmured smugly. "She's mine now."

Mingyu had been grumpier than usual lately—you noticed. Maybe it was the cabin fever from being stuck at home for so long, but he seemed to get irritated over the smallest things.

Your hair strands on the couch? A crime.

Dishes left unwashed? He huffed.

And the worst? When he held up a piece of your underwear he found in the laundry machine with an unimpressed look, only for you to sprint across the room to snatch it from his fingers.

So, when you saw him sprawled on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone, you decided he needed a change of scenery.

“Wanna come with me?”

Mingyu barely looked up. “Where?”

You shrugged. “A field visit. Secluded area, about two hours of driving and an hour on the ferry.”

That got his attention.

His ears perked up, eyes lighting up at the mention of a ferry. “Wait, on a ship?”

You nodded.

He sat up immediately, his boredom vanishing in an instant. “I’m coming. Wait for me.” Without another word, he grabbed his crutch and hobbled toward his room to change.

Not long after, the two of you were on the road, Mingyu comfortably settled in the passenger seat as you drove. You let him choose the playlist, and he happily took on DJ duties, filling the car with upbeat tracks.

As the music played, Mingyu danced along, his upper body swaying dramatically to the beat. You chuckled, half-focused on the road, occasionally singing along to the lyrics you knew.

“Ohhh, you actually know this one?” Mingyu teased, turning up the volume.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, throwing his hands in the air as the chorus hit, and for the first time in days, he looked genuinely happy.

As the road stretched ahead, the rhythm of the music and the hum of the engine filled the space between you. Mingyu was busy drumming his fingers on the dashboard, nodding along to the beat, when you glanced at him and asked,

“How’s rehab going?”

Mingyu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh. It’s… fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just slow. Feels like I’m barely making progress. They keep telling me to be patient, but it’s frustrating.”

You nodded, understanding. “You’re used to moving all the time. Must be hard to slow down.”

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, staring out the window. “Yeah. Feels like I’m stuck.” Then, after a pause, he mumbled, “I kinda hate it.”

You didn’t rush to respond, letting his words settle. Instead, you reached over and gave his knee a small pat before putting your hand back on the wheel.

“You’ll get there,” you said simply. “You just need time.”

Mingyu turned to look at you, and for a moment, he didn’t have a smart remark or playful retort. He just watched you, as if he were seeing you in a different light.

Then, shaking off the weight of the conversation, he suddenly leaned forward and cranked up the volume.

“Alright, no more sad talk. Sing this part with me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as he dramatically belted out the next lyrics, completely off-key.

The salty breeze whipped through your hair as the ferry glided across the waves, the rhythmic rocking of the ship creating a slow, lulling motion. You leaned against the railing, gazing out at the endless stretch of water, while Mingyu stood beside you, adjusting the strap of the bag he had insisted on carrying for you.

He glanced over, eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight. “So, what exactly are we doing when we get there?”

You turned your head, watching as seagulls circled above. “Just an interview with an old woman for my paper,” you replied. “She has a lot of knowledge about oral traditions in the area.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully before grinning. “And after that? We can go sightseeing and eat, right?”

You smirked. “You just want food, don’t you?”

“I always want food,” he declared shamelessly. “You know this.” Then, tilting his head, he asked, “You like seafood, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”

Mingyu hummed, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I’m eating everything.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Try not to bankrupt me.”

“No promises.”

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both looked out at the open sea. The horizon blurred where the sky met the water, and the sound of waves slapping against the ship’s hull was oddly soothing. Mingyu exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

“This is nice,” he admitted. “Feels like a reset.”

You glanced at him. “You needed a break.”

He nodded. “Yeah. More than I realized.”

You didn’t say anything, but you understood. The months of being stuck at home, of forced stillness, had been suffocating for someone like Mingyu. But now, with the wind in his hair and the vastness of the sea stretching ahead, he looked lighter. More like himself.

“You’re lucky to have work that takes you places,” he mused, watching a fishing boat in the distance.

You smiled. “I think so too.”

Mingyu turned to you then, studying you for a moment. “You really love what you do, huh?”

“I do.”

He hummed in approval before nudging your shoulder lightly. “Alright, then. Let’s get this interview done quickly so we can feast.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

The village was exactly as you had imagined—quiet, nestled between lush green hills and the vast blue sea. The scent of saltwater mixed with the earthiness of the damp ground as you and Mingyu stepped off the ferry, your shoes crunching against the wooden dock.

Mingyu took a deep breath, stretching his arms. "Alright, lead the way, researcher-nim."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, leading him through the narrow streets where elderly locals greeted you with warm smiles. The air buzzed with the faint sound of waves in the distance, children’s laughter echoing from somewhere unseen. Mingyu, ever the curious one, peeked into open storefronts, his eyes lighting up every time he spotted something new.

Your interview with the elderly woman took place in a small, traditional house with wooden floors and the scent of dried herbs lingering in the air. Mingyu, despite not having much to do, listened attentively from the side, nodding along as the woman spoke of old myths and stories passed down through generations. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead, watching the way you took notes, the way your brows furrowed in focus. He quickly looked away when your eyes flickered to him.

When the interview was over, the two of you explored the village, wandering through small paths that led to breathtaking cliffside views. Mingyu took photos, claiming it was for "memories," but he sneakily snapped a few of you when you weren’t looking.

Lunch was a feast—freshly grilled fish, buttery scallops, spicy seafood stew. Mingyu ate with the enthusiasm of a man who had been starving for days, humming in delight with every bite.

“You’re going to cry over food again,” you teased, watching as he closed his eyes in exaggerated bliss.

“I might,” he admitted, stuffing another piece of fish into his mouth. “This is happiness.”

By the time you both decided to head back, the sky had turned a soft shade of orange, the sunset casting golden hues across the water. The ferry ride home was quieter, more peaceful. Mingyu sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours every time the ship swayed.

“Thanks for bringing me today,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to him, surprised by his sincerity. “I didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Me neither. But I did. A lot.”

The warmth in his voice made something stir inside you, but you pushed it down, nodding as you turned back to the sea.

By the time you reached home, it was already late. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. You both kicked off your shoes near the entrance, exhaustion settling into your limbs.

You yawned. “That was a long day.”

Mingyu hummed in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but a good one.”

You nodded, reaching to switch on the hallway light when suddenly—

Mingyu grabbed your wrist, turning you toward him. Before you could process what was happening, he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, warm, familiar in a way that made your stomach flip.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before he whispered, almost to himself, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

And then he did.

The kiss was slow, unhurried—like he was memorizing the way you felt against him, the way your lips fit together perfectly. His hand slid up to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he had been waiting for this for a long time.

You were speechless.

Even after Mingyu pulled away, even after he chuckled softly and rested his forehead against yours, even after the warmth of his lips lingered on yours—you couldn't find a single word to say. Your mind was blank, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Mingyu, on the other hand, had a million thoughts racing through his head.

He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t even thought about kissing you before today, at least not consciously. But now that he had, now that he knew what it felt like—soft, warm, and entirely too natural—he didn’t know how to go back.

Because this was you. His friend. The person who had let him crash at her place, who had cooked him meals, who had dealt with his grumpiness and his boredom. You, who he had always seen as someone steady in his life.

And yet, at some point, that steadiness had become something more. He hadn’t realized it until now, until he kissed you and felt the undeniable pull in his chest.

Mingyu swallowed, suddenly feeling like he had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could retreat from.

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, stepping back slightly, giving you space. “You okay?”

You blinked up at him, lips parted slightly, still trying to process everything.

Mingyu forced a small laugh, trying to mask the sudden conflict waging inside him. “You’re looking at me like I just spoke in an alien language.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Me neither.”

Silence stretched between you, the air thick with something neither of you dared to name just yet.

Mingyu glanced at you one more time, his expression unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

You nodded numbly, still dazed.

And as Mingyu walked off to his room, closing the door behind him, he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could keep pretending that what he felt for you was just friendship anymore.

Mingyu barely got any sleep. The kiss kept replaying in his mind, over and over, as if his brain was determined to dissect every second of it. Was it the right thing to do? Did he just ruin everything? The moment had felt so natural, so inevitable, yet now, in the morning light, doubt clung to him like a shadow.

He sat on the couch, his crutch resting beside him, his fingers drumming against his knee. Normally, by now, he would hear the soft sounds of you moving around—your sleepy footsteps padding into the kitchen, the clatter of dishes as you made breakfast. But today, there was nothing.

His brows furrowed as he glanced at your door. Still shut.

Mingyu pushed himself up, walking over to knock softly. “Y/n?” His voice was gentle, but there was a hint of concern beneath it.

No response.

He frowned, knocking again. “Y/n, you awake?”

Silence. A familiar unease crept up his spine. Don’t tell me you already left?

He hesitated before slowly pushing the door open. And sure enough, your room was empty.

Caty was in the middle of it, lazily sprawled out on your bed, her fluffy tail flicking. The place was messier than usual—blankets half-tangled, papers scattered on your desk, as if you had rushed out in a hurry.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You really left without saying anything?” he mumbled to himself, glancing around the room.

Caty, now realizing she had an audience, stretched and let out a tiny chirp before hopping off the bed. She trotted towards Mingyu but got distracted halfway, swatting at a fallen pen instead.

“Caty,” Mingyu called, shaking the kibble container to get her attention. The second she heard the sound, she perked up, immediately scampering toward him. He walked to the kitchen, pouring some food into her dish, watching as she eagerly began eating.

He crouched down, gently rubbing behind her ear. “I see Y/n forgot to feed you again…” he muttered, shaking his head with a small sigh. “She was really in a rush, huh?”

Caty purred under his touch, completely unbothered by the absence. Mingyu, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his chest.

You left without waking him up. Without a single word.

Did it have something to do with the kiss?

Mingyu didn’t like the way that thought made his stomach twist.

He exhaled heavily, leaning against the counter as Caty purred beside his hand, rubbing her head against his fingers like she had finally accepted him as an ally.

“At least you don’t hate me,” Mingyu muttered, scratching under her chin.

That week, Mingyu finally ditched the crutch—a massive milestone in his recovery. It felt liberating, almost like reclaiming a piece of himself he hadn’t realized he’d lost. But as he walked into the apartment, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, he noticed something else.

You were on the couch, curled up with a book, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. The sight was so... normal. A stark contrast to the avoidance act you had been pulling lately. If Mingyu counted correctly, he had seen Caty more than he had seen you this past week—a fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to categorize as progress or not.

"Hey," he greeted, setting his keys down.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in days, you actually smiled at him. "You're walking now," you noted, putting your book aside, your attention fully on him.

Mingyu smirked, stepping further into the room. "Not just walking," he said, twirling on the spot with exaggerated grace. "I can even ballet."

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to break through the strange tension hanging between you two. But even as you let out a small chuckle, neither of you could ignore how much thicker the silence had become.

The kiss still lingered in the space between you, unspoken but impossible to forget.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before finally lowering himself onto the couch beside you. He didn’t sit too close, giving you space, but he was near enough that you could feel his warmth. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words.

He cleared his throat. "So…" He drummed his fingers on his knee, glancing at you before looking away. "About that night."

Your grip on your cup tightened slightly, but you said nothing. Mingyu caught the shift in your expression, the way your lips pressed together as if bracing yourself. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to pretend nothing had happened.

"I don’t want to pressure you or anything," he said carefully, his voice softer now. "I just… I don’t regret it, you know?" He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t want you to think it was just some impulsive thing that didn’t mean anything to me. Because it did."

Your fingers traced the rim of your cup, eyes fixed on the steam rising from your tea. "Mingyu…" You started, then stopped, as if searching for the right words.

He didn’t rush you. He just watched, waiting.

"I just didn’t expect it," you finally admitted, still not meeting his gaze. "And I don’t know what it means for us."

Mingyu nodded slowly. That was fair. You had been friends, living under the same roof, never crossing that line—until now. "I don’t know either," he admitted with a small chuckle, leaning back against the couch. "But I do know that I like you."

This time, your eyes snapped up to his. Mingyu smiled, not teasing, not playful—just honest. "And I’m okay with figuring it out together. No pressure. No rush."

He could see the conflict in your eyes, the thoughts racing through your mind. But he also saw something else—something softer, something hesitant but not entirely unwilling.

Your amusement faded as quickly as it came. You set your cup down on the table, fingers lacing together in your lap as you exhaled slowly. "Mingyu… you shouldn’t like me."

His brows furrowed, the lightness in his expression fading. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated, pressing your lips together. There was a part of you that wanted to let this happen, to let yourself believe in the warmth he was offering. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew that if he found out the truth, he would regret ever feeling this way.

"There are things about me you don’t know," you said quietly. "Things I can’t tell you."

Mingyu frowned but didn’t interrupt. He was patient—he always was with you.

You swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. "If you knew… if you found out, you’d regret this. You’d regret ever letting yourself feel that way about me."

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. "That’s not fair," he said, voice firm but gentle. "You’re deciding for me how I’d feel without even giving me a choice."

You finally looked at him, and he saw it—the fear in your eyes, the weight of something you were carrying alone. "Because I know what it would do to you," you whispered.

Mingyu shook his head. "Y/n, whatever it is, I—"

"You don’t," you cut him off, standing abruptly. "You don’t know, Mingyu. And I can’t—" You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. "I can’t let you get caught up in it."

He stood too, searching your face, his frustration evident. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

"But I have to," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Because I’d rather be the bad guy now than let you hate me later."

Mingyu stared at you, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what you were hiding, but he knew one thing for sure—you were terrified. Not of him, but of whatever secret you were keeping.

And that only made him more certain.

"I’m not walking away," he said, his voice steady. "No matter how much you try to push me away, I’m not going anywhere."

You looked at him, eyes conflicted, torn between hope and fear. But before you could say anything, Mingyu stepped back, giving you space. "I won’t force you to tell me," he said softly. "But I hope one day, you trust me enough to let me in."

And with that, he turned and walked toward his room, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your carefully built walls cracking just a little.

You sat at your desk, staring at the open document on your laptop, but the words blurred together, refusing to make sense. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. Your head ached from the lack of sleep, your body felt sluggish, and your mind was stretched thin from everything—your workload, the constant deadlines, your barely functioning routine, your health that you hadn’t been taking care of, and most of all… Mingyu.

You pressed your palms against your face, exhaling shakily. Everything was piling up, suffocating you. The late nights, the skipped meals, the self-imposed isolation—it was all catching up to you, and now Mingyu, with his unwavering presence, his persistence, his feelings, was another thing you didn’t know how to handle.

You shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Your chest felt tight as you leaned back in your chair, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to look at you like that—with warmth, with patience, with something deeper that you weren’t ready to name. He wasn’t supposed to tell you he liked you. He wasn’t supposed to fight to stay when you were doing everything to push him away.

And yet… he was still here.

You knew he was in the next room, probably watching something on his phone or reading messages in the group chat. You could hear the occasional shuffling, the sound of video played on his phone. It was comforting, but also suffocating in its own way. Because you wanted to believe in the comfort, but you couldn’t afford to.

Not when you were already breaking under the weight of everything else.

You ran a hand through your hair, gripping the strands in frustration. Your schedule was a mess, your health was deteriorating because you barely had time to take care of yourself, and your work wasn’t slowing down. The pressure was relentless. And now Mingyu—Mingyu, with his steady eyes and his stubborn heart—was making it harder to keep things in check.

A part of you wanted to walk into the living room and tell him everything. To let yourself lean on someone for once. But you couldn’t.

Because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop. And you couldn’t afford to fall apart.

Not now.

Your breath was shallow, uneven. The weight pressing against your chest refused to ease, your hands trembling as you clutched your desk for stability. The walls of your room felt like they were closing in, suffocating you with the pressure you had been trying so hard to suppress.

No. Not now. Not this.

You pushed yourself up, pacing in an attempt to ground yourself, but your legs felt weak, and the buzzing in your head only grew louder. You needed water—maybe that would help. Maybe if you cooled down, if you just focused on something else, the panic wouldn’t consume you.

Your steps were unsteady as you walked out of your room, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as you reached for a glass. The water was cold against your lips, but even as you gulped it down, it did little to ease the storm inside you.

And then, you felt it.

The dizziness. The telltale warmth flooding through your limbs. The sensation that always preceded the shift.

No. No, no, no.

Not now. Not here. Not with Mingyu in the apartment.

You gripped the counter tighter, willing your body to stop, to fight it, but it was too late. The overwhelming sensation crashed into you, your vision blurring, your balance giving out. You barely registered the sound of the glass slipping from your fingers, shattering against the floor, before your body gave in.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was Mingyu.

Standing at his door.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open.

Frozen in place.

Watching as you—

Became Caty.

Mingyu jolted awake, gasping for air as he found himself lying on the cold floor. His head pounded, his heart racing in his chest. What the hell just happened?

He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the moment before his eyes landed on the small figure sitting beside him.

Caty.

The white-furred feline stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, her fluffy tail curling neatly around her paws. She looked normal—just a cat, nothing out of the ordinary.

But that was the problem.

Mingyu let out a strangled, surprised noise and immediately scooted back, his body dragging against the floor as he put distance between himself and the animal. His breath was uneven as his mind scrambled for explanations.

Was it his medication? Had the lingering effects of his painkillers messed with his head? No—he hadn’t taken them in days. Was it exhaustion? A hallucination? But he had quit drinking. Why would he be seeing things now?

His eyes darted toward the kitchen. The shattered glass glistened under the dim lighting, water pooling around the broken shards. His gaze then shifted to your bedroom—wide open, empty.

He was sure you had been there.

He was sure he had seen you.

And then—

Mingyu swallowed hard, eyes flickering back to Caty.

Was it real?

Had he really seen you shrinking—morphing—into a cat?

Was Caty… you?

Mingyu swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at Caty like she might suddenly start speaking. His mind screamed at him that this wasn’t possible, but his gut told him otherwise. He had seen it—hadn’t he?

Slowly, he sat up, never taking his eyes off the small creature. He needed to confirm it somehow.

"Y/n…?" His voice was hoarse, hesitant. "If—if that’s really you, can you… meow?"

Silence.

Caty blinked once but didn’t move.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Uh, can you—jump?" He pointed at the couch, waiting, hoping for any kind of response.

Nothing.

Caty just sat there, tail twitching slightly, ears perked.

Mingyu frowned, his frustration growing. He had to be losing his mind. "Alright, what about sitting? Oh, wait—you’re already sitting," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his temples. "Fine, then. Blink twice if you’re Y/n."

Caty blinked.

Once.

Mingyu held his breath.

Caty licked her paw and started grooming herself.

Mingyu let out a strangled groan, slumping back against the floor. "Oh my god, I’m losing it," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "This isn't real. This isn’t happening."

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his eyes kept drifting back to Caty—who sat there, unmoving, watching him with those all-too-familiar eyes.

Mingyu sighed as he crouched down, carefully picking up the shattered glass pieces from the kitchen floor. The mess was everywhere—your discarded clothes near the counter, the spilled water, the broken glass. It felt surreal.

Above him, Caty sat perched on the kitchen counter, watching his every move. Her tail swayed lazily, but her eyes never left him. It was unsettling.

Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head as he reached for the broom. "Okay, so let’s go over this again," he muttered, mostly to himself, but also to the silent feline observer. "You were standing here. You tried to drink water, and then—bam! You turned into a cat."

Caty’s ears twitched.

Mingyu dumped the glass shards into the trash and wiped his hands on his sweats. He glanced at the pile of clothes on the floor—the ones you had been wearing just minutes ago. His face heated up at the realization.

"Oh my god, this is insane," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He turned to Caty, pointing at her. "So all this time… you were Caty?"

Silence.

Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You’ve been sleeping on the couch. Sitting on my lap. I even fed you tuna last week!" He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

Caty just blinked at him, expression unreadable.

Mingyu leaned against the counter, staring at her. "You know, the least you could do is react. Maybe a guilty meow? A tail flick? Something?"

Caty licked her paw and groomed her face.

Mingyu groaned again. "This is ridiculous. I—I need a drink. Wait, no, I quit drinking." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need answers."

His eyes met Caty's again, and this time, there was something different—something knowing.

"You really are Y/n, aren’t you?" he whispered.

Caty finally did something. She blinked. Twice.

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling as Caty—you—sat comfortably on his stomach. He had never been a cat person, but here he was, hosting the biggest secret of his life on his body, staring at him with those too-familiar eyes.

"This is insane," he muttered, gently poking your tiny forehead. "I should be freaking out more, right? Like… panicking, losing my mind. But no, here I am, talking to a cat—you—like this is normal."

Caty blinked slowly.

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his face. "You’re not gonna talk, huh?" He tried again, looking at you. "Maybe blink twice if you can understand me?"

You just stared at him.

Mingyu huffed. "Okay. You’re either messing with me, or you really can’t answer like this." He let his head fall back against the couch. "Either way, you’ll probably shift back soon, right?"

That thought struck him suddenly. If you turned back into a human, you’d be—Mingyu’s eyes widened. "Crap, you’re gonna need clothes!"

He carefully moved you off his stomach and onto the couch before rushing to his room. Grabbing a couple of blankets, he returned and draped them over the cushions. "Here. If you shift back while sleeping, just—just wrap yourself in these, okay?"

He pointed at the blankets and then at you. "Inside them when you sleep, alright? Caty? Y/n? Whoever you are!"

You flicked your tail, making him sigh.

"Okay, fine. Ignore me." Mingyu plopped back onto the couch, still watching you with curiosity and concern. His head was still spinning, but there was nothing he could do except wait.

The next morning, Mingyu stirred awake to the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains. He stretched, muscles stiff from sleeping on the couch, before something caught his attention.

There, curled up under his blankets, was you.

Not Caty. You.

Mingyu stilled. His breath hitched as he sat up, staring at your peaceful face. The blanket was wrapped securely around you, your hair a little messy from sleep, but there was no doubt—you had shifted back.

It was real. All of it.

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Holy shit."

Caty had been you all this time.

You sat on the couch, a human-sized bundle of blankets, while Mingyu stood in front of you like a detective who had just uncovered the most absurd case of his life. His arms were crossed, his jaw slightly dropped, and his eyes were scanning you as if expecting you to sprout whiskers at any moment.

"So… you are Caty?" he asked slowly, as if hoping he had misheard himself.

You nodded, peeking up at him from the cocoon of warmth.

"You shift into a cat," he continued, his voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "Am I right?"

Another nod. This time, you kept your gaze firmly on the coffee table.

"So you're human… but you can also turn into a cat?"

You nodded again, bracing yourself.

Mingyu opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish trying to form words but failing. And then, as if his brain short-circuited, he let out a loud, exasperated groan and ruffled his hair so aggressively it looked like he’d been caught in a wind tunnel.

"You should’ve just told me it was all a dream!" he burst out, pacing the living room. "Or that I was hallucinating! That I was seeing things! Y/n, what the hell?! How—why—how does a human just shrink into a—into a cat?!"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself like they could somehow shield you from his meltdown.

Mingyu let out another deep breath, his hands on his hips. He turned away for a second, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "I quit drinking for this?" before whipping back around to face you.

"Okay, wait. You said it happens when you're stressed?"

You gave a small, pitiful nod.

Mingyu blinked, as if this somehow made less sense than before. His brows knitted together in deep thought before he squinted at you suspiciously.

"So… all this time, when I was talking to Caty… was that you? Were you ignoring me on purpose?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically. "No! That was Caty! I—I can't control myself when I shift. It’s like… I become the cat version of me, but I don’t remember anything when I change back."

Mingyu opened his mouth again, closed it, rubbed his temples, and then let out a long sigh as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

"This is insane," he muttered, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to his problems.

You swallowed hard, watching him carefully. He looked like he was either going to burst into another round of questions or possibly combust.

Then, after a long, heavy pause, Mingyu exhaled deeply, shook his head, and mumbled, "Of course the girl I like turns into a damn cat."

Mingyu sat there in stunned silence, his brain slowly piecing everything together like a detective in a crime drama—except the crime was you being a cat.

He turned to you, eyes narrowing in deep concentration. “Wait a minute.”

You tensed. “What?”

His gaze scanned you like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, his mouth fell open as realization hit him like a truck. “Oh my God.”

You blinked. “…What?”

Mingyu shot up from the couch, pointing at you like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century. “It all makes sense now!”

You pulled the blankets tighter, suddenly very nervous. “…What does?”

“All of it! Your hobbies—meditating, reading, and drinking tea—you do everything to reduce stress. And your sleeping habits!” He started pacing. “You nap all the time, and you hate waking up early. You curl up in the weirdest positions when you sleep—like a cat!”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I—I do not—”

“Oh, you do!” Mingyu pointed an accusatory finger. “And your attitude—how you act all distant sometimes, but the next moment you’re affectionate? Total cat behavior! And don’t even get me started on how you disappear for hours and then show up like nothing happened!”

You sank deeper into the blankets, heart pounding. He was way too good at this.

Mingyu continued, voice getting louder with every revelation. “You love warm places! You always complain when it’s too cold, and you sit next to the heater like your life depends on it!” He gasped. “And the hair! The random strands of hair I keep finding on my clothes—it was you!”

“I mean—technically, it was still my human hair—”

“And the way you stare at me sometimes, like you’re silently judging me but won’t tell me why! That’s such a cat thing to do!”

You opened your mouth to argue but… well. He wasn’t wrong.

Mingyu groaned, running his hands down his face. “How did I not see this sooner?”

You bit your lip, guilt creeping in. “I—I wanted to tell you, but—”

He spun around, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I bathed you.”

You winced. “Oh. Really?”

He pointed at you again. “I carried you like a baby after you fell asleep on my lap! I let you sleep in my bed!”

“…You must had volunteered that one.”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE A REGULAR CAT, Y/N!”

You shrank under his intense stare, whispering, “I was a regular cat at the time…”

Mingyu let out a strangled noise, like his brain was overheating. He collapsed back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I need a minute. Or maybe ten.”

You hesitated before mumbling, “…You still fed me tuna.”

Mingyu groaned into his hands. “I fed you tuna.”

Silence stretched between you before he finally peeked at you through his fingers. “Okay. So you turn into a cat when you’re stressed. But why? How?”

You sighed, tugging at the blanket. “It’s… complicated.”

Mingyu exhaled sharply. “Y/n, everything about this situation is complicated.” He tilted his head at you, still processing. “But somehow… it still makes sense.”

You blinked. “It does?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s weird, but it’s you. And honestly, the cat thing explains a lot.”

You stared at him, heart stuttering in your chest. After all this—after watching you shift, realizing you had basically been living a double life, learning he had bathed and fed you tuna—he was still sitting here, talking to you like you were just… you.

Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the worst-case scenario after all.

From that day on, Mingyu became obsessed with monitoring your stress levels.

It started small—like when you reached for your morning coffee, and he immediately snatched it away.

“Caffeine increases stress,” he said, squinting at you like a scientist observing a volatile experiment. “You could shift if you get too anxious.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Mingyu, I won’t turn into a cat just because I drink coffee.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, Y/n. You shift when you're stressed. What if caffeine speeds up the process?”

“Mingyu—”

He grabbed a tea bag and handed it to you. “Just to be safe.”

You glared. “I don't want tea.”

“You don't want shifting in front of me more.”

You wanted to argue, but… fair point.

Then it escalated.

Every time you sighed even slightly too heavily, he’d whip around like you had just announced you were about to combust.

“Are you stressed? Are you shifting? Should I get a blanket?”

“I just sighed, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but was it a regular sigh or a cat-inducing sigh?”

“Oh my God.”

At one point, he even started doing random check-ins.

“You good?” he’d ask, mid-lunch, mouth full of food.

“Yes, Mingyu.”

“You sure? No tiny paws incoming?”

“I swear to God.”

Even when you were peacefully reading, he'd suddenly lean in, staring suspiciously at you. “You seem tense.”

“I am tense,” you deadpanned, “because you keep asking if I’m tense.”

“So you are stressed?”

“Mingyu.”

He hummed in thought. “Should I get some chicken? Maybe chicken will help.”

You threw a pillow at his face.

And the worst part? You actually started feeling stressed because of him.

At work? You were fine. Dealing with your schedule? Manageable. But Mingyu constantly watching you, gasping dramatically whenever you so much as blinked too hard?

That was starting to become a real problem.

One night, after yet another "Are you feeling shifty?" question, you groaned and flopped onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow. “Mingyu, I swear, if I shift into a cat, it’s going to be your fault.”

Mingyu gasped. “So I am stressing you out?”

“Yes!” You shot up, glaring at him. “You’re so paranoid that I’m going to turn into a cat that you’re actually making it more likely to happen!”

His eyes widened like he had just uncovered a terrible truth. “Oh my God.”

“Oh my God, what?”

Mingyu clasped his hands together. “So what you’re saying is… I’m your trigger?”

You blinked. “That’s not—”

His face lit up. “Does this mean I have power over your shifting?”

You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the couch. “I give up.”

Mingyu, now grinning like a kid who had discovered a new toy, leaned over you. “Don’t worry, Y/n. I promise to use my powers wisely.”

You peeked up at him. “If you ever use this as an excuse to mess with me—”

“I would never,” he said, hand over his heart. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “But, you know… if I ever need a cute little furball to do my bidding—”

“Mingyu.”

He laughed, dodging the second pillow you threw at him.

Mingyu was out grocery shopping when something in the pet accessories aisle caught his eye—a delicate, silver cat collar with a tiny pendant hanging from it.

He picked it up, examining the details. It wasn’t just any collar; it had an adjustable strap and a small locket that could be opened to store a tiny piece of paper inside.

"You can adjust the size, sir," a salesperson said, approaching him with a polite smile. She took the collar from his hands and demonstrated how it worked.

Mingyu nodded, intrigued. It was simple but elegant—something you would probably like.

"How old is your cat?" the salesperson asked casually.

Mingyu blinked. Well. Technically, you and Caty were the same age, and there was no way in hell he was about to blurt out, Oh, she’s 27, actually.

"Uh… four?" he answered, hoping that was a reasonable number.

The salesperson beamed. "Oh, how sweet! This locket is great for adventurous cats. You can write their name inside—or even a personal contact number, just in case they like to wander off."

Mingyu nearly laughed. You liked to wander off. You loved adventure. If anyone needed a tag in case they went missing, it was you.

As ridiculous as it was, he suddenly found himself imagining slipping this around your neck—not just when you were Caty, but even as yourself. It would be a little secret between the two of you, a playful reminder that he knew your real secret.

Yeah. This would make a great gift.

Grinning to himself, he grabbed the collar and headed toward the cashier.

During dinner, Mingyu suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table toward you.

“I got you something,” he announced, leaning back with a smug grin.

You looked at him suspiciously before picking up the box and opening it. The moment your eyes landed on the contents, you froze.

"You got me what?"

"A collar," Mingyu repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked at him. “Mingyu. I’m human.”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “And also a cat.”

You groaned, closing the box with an exaggerated sigh. "Not this again."

“Hey, listen—it's adjustable! And I got one with a little pendant so I could write my number inside. Y'know, in case you ever shift outside and get lost.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “You seriously think I’m going to wake up in an alley one day and some stranger will check my collar for your number?”

Mingyu shrugged. “It’s just a precaution. Plus, it was pretty expensive, so you better appreciate it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where did you even find this?”

“Hm…” He scratched his chin, pretending to recall. “You know, at—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—E-Mart.”

You let out a scoff. “So you just casually browse the pet aisle for gifts now?”

“Only for my special cat-human hybrid roommate.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to push the box back toward him, but Mingyu was already reaching over. Mingyu’s fingers brushed against your skin as he adjusted the collar, the cool metal of the clasp briefly pressing against the nape of your neck before he fastened it in place. His touch was light—careful, almost reverent—as if he didn’t want to startle you, as if this ridiculous gesture somehow held more weight than either of you had expected.

When he finally leaned back, his gaze lingered on you, a slow smile stretching across his face. There was something different in the way he looked at you—not just teasing amusement, but something softer, something unreadable.

The air between you shifted, quiet and thick with unspoken things. The usual banter was missing, the jokes fading into something more uncertain. Mingyu wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smirking. He was just looking at you, his brown eyes warm, thoughtful, studying you in a way that made your pulse stutter for a second.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Your breath hitched.

It was just a word, a casual compliment, but something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the way his gaze softened ever so slightly, like he had never really looked at you like this before. Like he was seeing something new—something more.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the collar resting against your skin, the weight of it foreign yet oddly grounding. “It’s—” Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. “It’s just a collar, Mingyu.”

He grinned, the spell breaking just slightly, but his eyes never lost that unreadable glint. “Yeah. Just a collar.”

And yet, as you sat there, your fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed. Even the air felt different—charged, expectant.

You had spent so long keeping a distance, so long making sure that Mingyu never got too close. But now, sitting here with his warmth still lingering near you, with the way his gaze held just a fraction too long, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—it was already too late.

The moment Mingyu pulled your wrist, you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t rushed or playful like you would have expected—it was slow, deep, and entirely consuming. His hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as he leaned into you, his body warm and solid against yours.

Without thinking, your arms lifted, slipping around his neck as he crouched down to meet you properly. The chair beneath you felt distant, the dinner forgotten. All you could focus on was the way his lips moved against yours—gentle yet insistent, like he was memorizing every second of it.

His fingers curled slightly against your waist, and a shiver ran down your spine. There was no hesitation in the way he kissed you, no uncertainty—just quiet, deliberate affection. It wasn’t like the first time, the one that had left you confused and shaken. This time, there was no doubt.

Mingyu was kissing you because he wanted to. Because he meant it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you slightly breathless. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt all too clearly.

“You…” You swallowed, trying to gather your thoughts, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

Mingyu exhaled a soft laugh, his breath fanning against your skin. “Yeah.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost tender. “Me.”

Your heart pounded, but this time, you didn’t want to run. Not when his hands were still holding you close. Not when his lips were still tingling against yours. Not when, for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

The moment your fingers tightened around the collar of his shirt and you pulled him back in, Mingyu knew—dinner was over. The food, the conversation, the playful banter about the ridiculous collar—it all faded into the background.

His lips met yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. Mingyu took it as a sign, as permission, as everything he had been waiting for. His hands moved instinctively, one sliding up to cup your face, the other pressing against your back, pulling you closer. The chair scraped slightly against the floor as you shifted, molding into him, deepening the kiss like neither of you could get enough.

Mingyu wasn’t gentle anymore—not because he wanted to rush, but because he needed you, and he was finally letting himself show it. The way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way your breaths mingled between kisses, the way your body leaned into his—it sent his heart into overdrive.

He barely registered how he had lifted you, how your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you away from the table. The scent of dinner was still in the air, but all he could focus on was you. The way your lips never left his, the way your hands explored, the way his name came out in whispers between breaths.

By the time he reached his bedroom, both of you were already lost in each other, in the heat, in the pull, in the undeniable truth that this had been building for far too long.

Mingyu wasn’t thinking anymore. He was feeling. And right now, he felt like he needed you more than anything else in the world.

Mingyu’s breath was warm against your skin as he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw. His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word sent a shiver through your body.

“I like you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I want you… I need you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it. His words weren’t just words—they were filled with something raw, something real. The weight of his body against yours, the way his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on your skin, the way his gaze held yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away—it was overwhelming.

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Mingyu noticed, his lips curving into a soft, almost teasing smile as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Are you nervous?”

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself, but the truth was, it wasn’t just nerves. It was him. The way he made you feel—like he could unravel you with just a look, like he was seeing all of you and still wanting more.

Mingyu leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with restraint.

Your breath hitched, panic creeping into your veins as your body tensed beneath him. The warmth of Mingyu’s touch, the weight of his body pressing into yours—it was too much. Not in a bad way, but in a way that sent your heartbeat into overdrive, your nerves firing off alarms you couldn’t ignore.

You could feel it happening.

The shift.

Your skin prickled, a deep sensation rolling through your bones, telling you that your body was about to betray you at the worst possible moment.

“Mingyu—” you gasped, trying to warn him, trying to push against his chest, but he was too lost in you. His lips dragged over the sensitive skin of your neck, down to your collarbone, his grip firm as he held you in place, his breath heavy with desire.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion.

Don’t say that, Mingyu… You clenched your eyes shut, your head spinning. Your stomach twisted, your blood rushed too fast, too hot. It was coming. It was coming.

You barely managed to shove at his shoulder before it happened.

Your world tilted. Your limbs curled inward. The familiar dizziness hit you like a freight train, and before you could even process it—

Poof.

The weight of the blankets suddenly felt ten times heavier. The warmth of Mingyu’s body was gone.

And in his place?

A very, very stunned man, now lying chest-down on the mattress, his arms empty where you had just been.

“...What the—?” Mingyu blinked, slowly lifting himself up, eyes searching the space where you had been seconds ago.

And then, finally, his gaze landed on the small bundle of fur now tangled in his sheets.

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Mingyu sat there for a long moment, his brain clearly short-circuiting. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, voice flat.

“You have to be kidding me.”

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stirred awake, your body stretching instinctively against the soft sheets—only to realize, with a jolt, that you were naked. Your breath hitched as your fingers clenched around the blanket, pulling it tighter around you. The air smelled like Mingyu—like warmth, like home.

Then, a voice, teasing and low—

"Awake, kitty cat?"

Your head snapped toward the doorway, where Mingyu stood leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching you with barely contained amusement. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his smirk told you everything.

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered—Mingyu, his hands, his lips, the way your body reacted to him, the way your nerves got the best of you—oh god.

Mingyu pushed off the doorframe and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. Instinctively, your arms tightened around the blanket, shielding yourself from the weight of his stare.

"I still can't believe it," he mused, shaking his head. "Caty really did that." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before giving you a pointed look. "Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is to be cockblocked by a cat? A cat that just so happens to be you?"

You swallowed, cheeks burning.

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to gently tug the blanket away from your face. His fingers brushed through your hair, a quiet tenderness in the way he touched you.

Then, his voice dropped, turning serious. "After last night…" He hesitated, his thumb grazing your temple. "You know we can’t just go back to being friends, right?"

Your heart pounded in your chest.

"I like you, Y/n," he confessed, his tone unwavering. "So much that I wanted you. And I could feel it last night—you wanted me too. But you were nervous." His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm, grounding. "And then you shifted."

Shame curled in your stomach, and you lowered your gaze. "I'm sorry…" you whispered.

But Mingyu shook his head. "No, don’t be sorry. I get it now." He exhaled, his hand moving down to grasp yours. "But please—tell me you want this too. Tell me we’re together."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just asking for an answer—he was asking for you. And you knew, despite everything, despite the chaos, despite the impossible nature of what you were—you wanted him too.

"But Mingyu… I'm a cat," you whispered, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter. "I can shift anytime—just like last night. And..." Your voice wavered as you swallowed hard. "I can't even communicate with you when Caty takes over. You don’t understand how—how frustrating that is. How helpless it feels."

Mingyu sighed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours as if afraid you'd slip away—not just figuratively, but literally. His brows furrowed as he looked at you, deep in thought, but there was no hesitation in his expression.

"So?" He said simply, tilting his head.

You blinked. "So?"

"So what if you’re a cat sometimes?" He shrugged, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I mean, yeah, it’s insane. But you think that’s enough to make me not want you?"

You bit your lip, eyes flickering downward. "Mingyu… I shifted right in the middle of—of that last night. That’s not normal. I can’t control it. What if it happens again?"

Mingyu dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before leaning closer. "Then we deal with it," he said, voice softer now. "We figure it out. And maybe next time, we make sure you’re not stressed, huh?"

You frowned. "You stress me out most of the time."

Mingyu gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me?! No way."

You shot him a flat look, but he only grinned, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Look," he continued, "it’s a little complicated, sure. But Y/n, I like you. Whether you’re human or a cat, whether you ignore me as Caty or let me kiss you as Y/n—I like you."

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart tightening in your chest.

"Besides," he added, flashing you a lopsided smile, "if you shift again, I’ll just put your little collar on. That way, if you run away, at least people will know you belong to me."

Your mouth fell open. "Mingyu!"

He burst into laughter as you smacked his arm, but the warmth in his eyes never faded. You wanted to argue, to tell him how ridiculous this all was, how dangerous it could be. But the way he looked at you—like shifting into a cat in the middle of making out was just another small inconvenience, like it didn’t change the way he felt about you—made you wonder.

Maybe this wasn’t so impossible after all.

Mingyu came home after practice, greeted by an unsettling silence. The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow from the city lights seeping through the curtains. He stepped inside, his muscles aching from the long day, and made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he changed into his pajamas, slipped on his wedding band, and went to find you.

It was already past ten, but the quiet felt unusual. You were a night owl, always awake, always up to something. Yet tonight, not even the hum of the TV or the soft clatter of your late-night snacking filled the space.

“Babe, where are you?” Mingyu’s voice echoed slightly in the stillness, laced with growing concern. He checked his phone, scrolling through his messages—he had texted you earlier, letting you know he’d be late because of practice. No reply.

A frown settled on his face. "Did she go out?" he muttered, not liking the idea one bit. The thought of you wandering around alone, pregnant, made his stomach twist.

It still amazed him how much life had changed. When he first met you, he never imagined falling this hard. But after months together, he knew—he knew—you were the one. Through all the ups and downs, his knee surgery, his return to the team, he always came back to you. Marrying you was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

Meeting your family, however, had been chaotic. He would never forget the way your father—so nervous about meeting his future son-in-law—had turned into a cat right in front of him. Then there was your brother, Wonwoo, who had also shifted into a sleek black cat the moment he found out you were pregnant before marriage. Mingyu had nearly lost it. But somehow, after all that madness, things smoothed over, and now, he was officially part of the cat family.

And now, with you seven months pregnant, he was counting down the days until he could hold his baby girl. Though, he did have a sneaking suspicion that one day, she too might randomly turn into a cat.

But that was fine. Mingyu had long since accepted that cats—especially you—were cute.

"Baby?" His voice carried through the apartment as he checked the master bedroom. Empty. The nursery? Empty. His frown deepened. Where the heck is she?

Feeling increasingly uneasy, Mingyu perched on the barstool and dialed your number. The moment he hit call, he heard a faint rustling noise. His head snapped toward the pantry.

A breath of relief escaped him. There you are.

But when he opened the pantry door, he didn’t find you.

Instead, he found Caty.

A very pregnant Caty.

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his temples as his gaze shifted to your phone and the pile of clothes discarded beside her.

"Not this again," he sighed, exasperated but unsurprised.

Shaking his head, he scooped Caty into his arms, along with your things, cradling the small, fluffy body of his very human wife-turned-cat.

"You just had to stress yourself out, didn’t you?" he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Caty’s head as he carried you back to bed.

“What was it this time? Did you watch a sad movie? Did Wonwoo say something weird again? Or was it me? It’s me, isn’t it?”

Caty—you—only flicked an ear in response.

Mingyu huffed, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he muttered, glancing down at your small, round belly. “You’re literally seven months pregnant, Y/n. You can’t just shift like this every time you panic.”

But deep down, he knew you couldn’t control it. The stress, the hormones, the whole being-pregnant-and-turning-into-a-cat thing—it was a lot.

Mingyu gently laid you down on his pillow and covered you with the blanket, careful not to make you feel trapped. Then, he sat beside you, rubbing his face tiredly.

“We really need to figure out a way to stop this from happening,” he mumbled to himself. Then, he side-eyed you. “What if you shift during labor? Am I gonna have to explain to the doctor why there’s a cat in the maternity ward?”

Caty blinked.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groaned, flopping onto the bed. “I’m gonna be a dad and a cat owner at the same time. This is a nightmare.”

Despite his complaints, his hand found its way back to stroking your fur. He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “At least you’re cute.”

He yawned, exhaustion from practice finally catching up to him. He wasn’t sure when you’d shift back, but until then, he’d just have to wait.

“Just don’t go into labor while you’re still a cat, okay?” he mumbled sleepily. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

With that, Mingyu let his eyes drift shut, one hand still resting protectively over you.

Mingyu woke up to the sound of soft shuffling beside him. His arm instinctively reached out, landing not on soft fur but warm skin. His brows furrowed as his fingers flexed against the familiar shape of your waist. Slowly, he cracked one eye open.

And there you were—back in your human form, sitting up in bed, stretching with a yawn, his oversized pajama top slipping off one shoulder.

Mingyu blinked blearily. Then, his mind caught up.

“Oh, thank God.” He groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back. “I thought I’d have to raise a kitten instead of a baby.”

You scoffed, pulling the blanket over yourself. “I was planning to wake up in human form before giving birth, you know.”

Mingyu sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. “Yeah, well, forgive me for being concerned when my pregnant wife disappears and a pregnant cat magically appears in her place!” He dropped his hands to his lap, staring at you pointedly. “You really gotta stop doing this to me, babe.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Mingyu sighed, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, thumb brushing against your cheek. “You scared me, though.”

Your eyes softened, fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves. “I’m sorry…”

Mingyu exhaled, then suddenly pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You should be,” he muttered against your hair, his grip tightening. “I lost at least five years of my life because of you.”

You giggled, snuggling into his embrace. “You’ll be fine. You still have, like, a hundred years left.”

Mingyu snorted, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands rested on your belly, thumbs rubbing small circles over the bump. “I guess we should start preparing for the fact that she might inherit your little condition.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I really hope she doesn’t.”

Mingyu leaned on one elbow, gazing down at you with a knowing look. His fingers traced absentminded circles over your belly as he asked, “Is that what you were stressing about last night? The fact that she might inherit the cat DNA?”

You hesitated, then sighed, covering your face with your hands. “Okay, maybe…”

Mingyu let out a short laugh, amused but not mocking. “Babe.” He pried your hands away gently so he could see your face. “You really think that’s gonna make me love her any less?”

You pouted. “It’s not just that, Mingyu… What if she suddenly shifts for the first time at daycare? Or what if she can’t control it, just like me? What if—”

Mingyu pressed a finger to your lips. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You blinked up at him, and his expression softened. “You think I haven’t already prepared myself for this? I married into a literal cat family, Y/n. I knew what I was signing up for.”

You exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. “You’re really okay with it?”

Mingyu grinned. “Are you kidding? I think it’d be adorable if our kid turns into a tiny furball. She’s gonna be the cutest kitten and the cutest baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, some of your worries melting away. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Mingyu teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, with a smirk, he added, “But for real—should we get her a tiny collar? Just in case?”

“Mingyu!”

Your husband only laughed as you smacked his arm, his affection and lightheartedness making it impossible for you to stay worried for long.

Mingyu smirked, leaning over you, his nose brushing against yours. “Well… if she does, at least she’ll be a very cute kitten.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as Mingyu kissed you softly, his warmth melting away the last remnants of your stress.

The end:)

939 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 1 month ago

Text

if this is war, i surrender — prologue

Revenge had a price. You just didn’t expect it to feel like this.

Pairing: New Avenger!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Synopsis: You wanted revenge. He became the reason you hesitated. He was the ghost from your past—the one who took everything. But getting close to him meant playing a dangerous game. And somewhere between hating him and pretending not to care, you forgot the one rule you swore you'd follow: don't fall for the enemy.

Word Count: 2,700

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for eventual smut - and there will be a lot of it, mentions and descriptions of abuse (both physical and emotional), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, death of a family member, Sam/Bucky aren't friends.

Author’s Note: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* (and is tagged accordingly) — as promised, a brand new fic series for our beloved New Avenger!Bucky. And it's an Avengers Tower fic! I am so excited for this. If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Masterlist | next chapter

You’d lived your whole life feeling what others couldn’t hide.

Anger that simmered beneath polite smiles. Grief was tucked behind practised charm. Lust, hatred, envy—emotions wrapped in flesh and bone and lies. Most people were predictable once you knew what they’d do before they did it.

It wasn’t magic. Not really.

It was you—something twisted into your blood long ago. You could read them. Sense the weight of a person by the colour of their aura, the heat of their intent. It made the world feel like a game of chess, you were always five moves ahead in.

And still, somehow, you’d lost everything.

No family. No justice.

Just a face burned into your memory—cold, unfeeling, and soaked in your brother’s blood.

The Winter Soldier.

You’d read all the self-help books and spent years in counselling and therapy. God, you had tried everything to get over it. But you remembered it like it was second nature, so much so that your Void Room felt like a nightmare you’d been used to for the past twenty years. It wasn’t reliving trauma, because you had never left. You were only a small child when it happened. You remember the fear that outlined your brother when he was cornered by the Winter Soldier, and the Soldier’s aura? Nothing. Like he was cut off from the world. Not an ounce of feeling or emotion.

But how could that be possible?

They said he was reformed, that he was out in the city under a government pardon, trying to live a ‘normal life’ after the Battle of Earth. There were traces of his presence a few years ago, working alongside Captain America to disassemble the Flag Smashers. And since then, a brief stint of being Brooklyn's Congressman.

Seriously, who would vote him into power?

You had been waiting for the world to hand him a spotlight, a new beginning, because that always seemed to happen to men like Bucky Barnes.

A fresh start. Forgiveness.

You were okay with waiting because a plan like this had to be made with precision, and precision took time. You couldn’t fight him with fury or fire.

You’d get close. You’d make him trust you. And when the moment came, you’d watch his world fall.

But for now, you worked at McCready’s bar in Lower Manhattan.

The neon lights outside the bar flickered in a lazy rhythm as you wiped down the counter for the umpteenth time, the stale smell of spilt whiskey and cheap beer lingering in the air. It was a Tuesday, but the bar was packed — a sea of half-drunk faces and the kind of conversations that never mattered. You hadn’t expected much from the job, but at least it kept you afloat. Barely.

The tips were inconsistent, the hours long, but it was all you had. Living in New York City wasn’t kind to anyone who wasn’t swimming in money, and you weren’t even close. You’d gotten used to the way the city hummed around you, indifferent to your struggles, just another face in the crowd. At least you weren’t completely alone. Shane was always there, hovering in the background like a constant reminder of the life you were stuck in.

He was your roommate, sure — but the lines had blurred long ago. It was more than that. You couldn’t leave him, not because you loved him, but because you had nowhere else to go. Shane had a way of turning everything he touched into a mess, and you were caught in the fallout. He was just… volatile, always drunk, always angry. His mood swung like a pendulum — when it was good, it was fine, but when it was bad, it was a storm. And you were always the one caught in its path.

Tonight was no different. His eyes were bloodshot, his speech slurred, but you knew better than to challenge him. You knew the look, the one that came just before things went south. You had learned how to move quietly, how to keep your head down when he raged. It wasn’t the first time he’d lashed out — and you hated yourself for staying, for letting him control so much of your life. But you couldn’t leave. The apartment was cheap, and it was better than being homeless. The city wasn’t kind to women on their own, and you weren’t naïve enough to think you’d be different.

So you endured.

The clink of glass broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the bar. Another customer. Another drink to serve. You plastered on your best smile and handed over the next round, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, the one that never went away. The ache that was there every time you realised you were stuck in a life that wasn’t yours to begin with, with a person who only made it harder to breathe.

But then, he crashed against the bar when your back was turned.

You felt it before you saw him.

A tight heat in the centre of your chest, like a warning flare under your skin. The aura rolled in a moment later—dark, pulsing red, bloated with alcohol and laced with something sharp. Bitterness. Rage. Shame. It wrapped around you like smoke, familiar and suffocating.

Shane.

You didn’t even need to look up. The aura was unmistakable. Predictable. He always came into your orbit like this—loud, drunk, and looking to pick a fight he could pretend wasn’t his fault.

You braced your palms against the sticky bar top and sighed.

“Didn’t think you worked Thursdays,” his voice slurred from your left. He leaned heavily against the counter, already swaying.

“I switched shifts.” You kept your eyes on the glass you were drying, steady and detached.

Shane scoffed. “Of course you did. Probably duckin’ me.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned in closer, breath hot and sharp with whiskey. “You can’t keep avoiding me, babe. We’ve got things to talk about.”

You turned to face him. “We broke up.”

His jaw twitched. You saw the spike in his aura before he even moved. The humiliation—how quickly it curdled into fury.

He slammed his palm down on the bar. “You can’t just cut me off like that! I still have your stuff!”

“And I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I get off work.” You spoke calmly, but your fingers curled against the wood.

“You act like I was the problem. Like you’re so perfect.”

You felt his emotions boiling up, the weight of everything unsaid pressing into your ribs. Your powers made it impossible not to feel it all—the guilt, the desperation, the jealousy eating holes in his brain.

He reached toward the shelf behind you, fingers clumsy and quick.

You saw it in a flash—his intention. The movement. The bottle. The shatter.

“Shane,” you warned, voice low.

But he grabbed the glass anyway.

And when you didn’t flinch—didn’t react—he hurled it at the far wall. The sound of shattering exploded through the bar like a gunshot.

Conversations cut off. Heads turned. The bartender at the other end shouted something you didn’t catch, but you didn’t move. You stared him down, heart steady even as your powers screamed with the heat of his spiraling aura.

“Get. Out.” Your voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to.

Shane scoffed again, as if that might somehow make him look less pathetic. He backed up with slow, jerking steps, flipping off the room as he staggered toward the door.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he muttered, just before the door slammed shut behind him.

The silence he left behind was louder than the glass.

You let out a breath, realising you’d been holding it. Then you grabbed the broom from behind the bar and swept the shards into a dustpan, the sharp scrape of glass grounding you.

Your skin still tingled from the contact with his rage. You hated that you felt it all—the fear before it turned violent, the hurt beneath the anger. You hated that your powers made it impossible to just forget someone.

But maybe that was the curse of being who you were. You always saw what was coming. You just couldn’t always stop it.

As the last pieces of glass clinked into the bin, you finally straightened. The bar had settled again. Conversations resumed. The music picked back up.

“Rough night?”

The voice came from the far end of the bar—smooth, level, edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You looked up. Black hoodie. Cap pulled low. Sunglasses indoors. He didn’t look dangerous, but he looked like someone who could be.

“Getting there,” you replied.

He offered a small nod. “Water, please.”

You poured it and slid it over. “You don’t seem like a regular.”

He chuckled. “I’m not.”

There was a pause. You watched him closely, brushing your senses over his aura. It was… quiet. Centred. Strong in a way that didn’t shout. But frayed at the edges. Worn. Heavy. You sensed something simmering—like a soldier forced to sit still while a war started without him.

“You handled yourself well earlier,” he said, not looking up.

You blinked. “You saw that?”

“I saw enough. Most people don’t know when to walk away. You did.”

You tilted your head, wary. “You following me?”

“No. Just watching.”

That didn’t make it less strange. But your instincts didn’t scream danger—only mystery.

You turned toward the corner TV to anchor yourself—something normal. Background noise. Distraction.

Instead, your stomach dropped.

You hadn’t meant to keep watching.

The TV had always just been background noise—old games, muted news reels, the occasional infomercial to fill the gaps between orders. But tonight, the screen was impossible to ignore.

A navy-blue backdrop. Stark white letters:

LIVE: O.X.E. GLOBAL INITIATIVE PRESS CONFERENCE

At the podium stood Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, sharp in her suit, that perpetual half-smile like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

“Today,” she said, “marks the beginning of a new era.”

You barely noticed the sound of glass clinking behind the bar as someone restocked. The world had narrowed to that screen.

Val continued, cool and poised. “A world in chaos needs structure. Direction. Accountability. O.X.E. was founded for that purpose—and now, I’m proud to announce its greatest achievement yet.”

The camera panned as she lifted a hand, gesturing to the five figures standing just out of frame.

Your heart skipped once—no reason. Just instinct.

“Earth’s new protectors. A team not built on nostalgia or outdated legacies. But on precision, strength, and experience.”

The screen cut to a slow pan across the group.

First: Yelena Belova.

You recognised her instantly—shoulders squared in sleek black tactical gear, expression unreadable. There was something fiercely restrained in her stance. A storm with a chokehold on itself.

Next: Ava Starr.

Ghost. Gloved hands in her pockets, hood half-drawn. She looked like she wanted to vanish right through the floor. Her energy vibrated through the screen—quiet, unstable, barely contained.

Then: John Walker.

U.S. Agent. Chin high, arms crossed like he was daring someone to challenge his spot. The smugness rolled off him like oil.

After that: Alexei Shostakov.

The Red Guardian. Smirking like he thought this was a stage play. You remembered his face from news clippings—over-the-top patriotism paired with brute force.

And then—just as the camera reached the final spot—

You felt it before you saw him.

Cold steel wrapped in guilt. A storm buried under a thousand locked doors. It hit you like a tide and settled in your bones.

Bucky Barnes.

He stepped forward into frame, silent. Dark clothes. Gloves on. That familiar stare—the one you’d only ever seen in flashes, or in the brief security footage you weren’t supposed to find. The one from fourteen years ago.

Your grip on the counter went white-knuckle.

His name appeared below him in bold, unmistakable letters, sub-titled with the words Team Leader.

The world faded around you. The bar. The people. The music. It all disappeared.

There he was. Front and centre. Standing tall like the past never happened. Like the blood on his hands had been scrubbed clean.

Leader. Hero. Forgiven.

And just like that, the plan began to form.

Because if he was back—if he was leading this new world—then this was your chance.

You’d get close. You’d get answers.

And you’d finally make him pay.

“Mind if I use your phone?” The voice cut your thoughts off with a sharp snap.

You hesitated. “Landline’s under the register. Doesn’t do long-distance.”

“That’s fine. He’s local.”

The man in the cap dialled quickly, voice low as he turned away from the bar. You stayed close, listening despite yourself.

“Yeah. It’s me.” Cap said. That was the nickname you’d given him. It felt fitting. You read his aura, and found it laced with anger. But it wasn’t like Shane’s anger. It wasn’t volatile or red, but instead, it was muted and hurt. Betrayal.

A pause.

“No, I saw it. They didn’t clear it. Val went public without warning.”

Another pause.

“No, he didn’t tell me. Look, Torres. He knew— he knew about my plan to restart the Av—”

His jaw clenched before stopping mid-sentence, aware of his audience.

“Just be ready. If this gets worse, we’ll need to act fast. I’ll call him tonight.”

He hung up. Didn’t say goodbye.

You crossed your arms. “You talk like someone important.”

He gave you a look, unreadable behind the glasses. “Depends who’s asking.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to back down. “I’ve had enough people lie to my face tonight.”

For a beat, he said nothing.

Then, with the tiniest smirk, he pulled off the sunglasses and tucked them into his hoodie.

“I’m Sam.”

Your breath hitched.

Captain fucking America.

────✪────

Bucky’s phone lit up the second the press conference ended.

Sam Wilson.

He stared at the name a moment longer than he needed to, then answered with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Sam didn’t waste time.

“You really let them use the name.”

Bucky leaned back against the edge of the hotel desk, jaw tight. “It’s just a name.”

“No, it’s not,” Sam snapped. “It’s our name. You think you get to let some corrupt agency parade it around like a branding tool? Like Steve’s legacy didn’t mean a damn thing?”

Bucky said nothing.

“You stood up there like it was nothing,” Sam continued. “With Walker. With Val. You think this is what Steve would’ve wanted? You think he’d look at that team and—”

“Don’t,” Bucky cut in, voice suddenly cold. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Sam didn’t flinch. “Someone has to.”

Bucky exhaled, short and sharp. “I didn’t choose the name. I didn’t write the headline. I chose a mission. That’s it.”

“Yeah?” Sam snapped. “Well, congratulations. You just handed the Avengers legacy over to a bunch of government puppets.”

Something burned behind Bucky’s eyes. He clenched his fist.

Bucky’s silence was answer enough, and Sam could feel his partner’s stoic glare through the line.

Sam exhaled, like he was holding back something worse. “You think this is justice? You think you’re fixing something?”

“I’m doing what I can with the mess that’s left,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. “Same as you.”

“No, I’m trying to honour what came before. You—? You’re just trying to outrun it.”

That struck a nerve.

Bucky stood straighter, voice low and clipped. “You think I give a damn about your approval? I don’t need your permission to do something that matters.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam snapped. “Since when do you care about legacy?”

The air between them tightened, stretching thin with unspoken names and unforgiven history.

“You’ve got no idea what I care about,” Bucky said coldly.

Sam paused, just long enough for it to sting. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Click.

Bucky hung up first.

The fourteen months that followed weren’t peaceful.

────✪────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world

Fic taglist: @ruexj283

#thunderbolts spoilers #thunderbolts #the new avengers #new avengers #marvel #bucky barnes #avenger bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #mcu #sam wilson #thunderbolts*#avengers tower fic #avengers tower #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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azmageddon · 8 months ago

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Silence

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: When you get stuck Under the Mountain, your mate finds the sudden silence deafening.

Warnings: none!

a/n: Based on an anonymous request! Requests are so fun! I love exploring ideas I never would have thought of. Keep them coming! This all takes place within the same AU where reader and Azriel kept their relationship secret from the IC (besides Cassian).

Azriel's POV

The silence was deafening. Never in the last 450 years had he felt such empty silence. The bond was never closed.

But now it was silent and cold. The golden thread that joined him to you floated from the middle of his chest, right at the center of his soul, into nothing. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he saw stars, willing this to be a dream he would wake up from. But Azriel knew better than to think this was a dream. He never slept anyway.

“Keep Velaris safe,” Rhys’ voice had said. “And don’t come after us.”

Rhys’ voice was calm, yet commanding. It was the demand of a High Lord: something Azriel physically couldn’t ignore.

At first, he didn’t understand the command. What did he mean, don’t come after us? Keep Velaris safe? You and Azriel had just been having a mental conversation, gossiping over the abhorrent fashion of the Autumn brothers, when Rhys’ voice interrupted you mid-sentence.

But when Azriel reached back out to you to ask what the warning meant, he was met only with the thick, suffocating silence.

The bond was never closed. It stayed open when you were hard at work: treating the injured, delivering babies, or easing the pain of Illyrians’ clipped wings. It stayed open when you were angry, or sad, after an argument, especially if you wanted him to feel particularly bad about it afterward.

The bond was never closed. Not when he went on missions for weeks at a time. Not even when he dragged Rhys’ prisoners to the dungeons of the Hewn City and did unspeakable things. You were his comfort. Your shared emotions were what grounded him, reminded him that life was worth living. They were a constant in his life, as effortless to absorb as breathing.

You had become his inner voice; his conscience. His reminder that he wasn’t the villain of this story. Now that it was gone, he wasn’t sure.

For 450 years, the bond was never closed, a vow the two of you had made when you accepted the mating bond. But now, that silence was louder than any battle or war he had ever partaken in.

The memory of when he had found out you were mates played in his head. Azriel couldn’t keep the memory from flooding into his mind and the guilt that came along with it every time he remembered.

You, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, watching him with worry in your eyes.

“How long have you known?” He remembers asking, venom lacing every word he spat at you. He was angry and embarrassed; how could he have missed all the signs? How could you keep such an important, life altering secret from him? He couldn’t show that embarrassment, couldn’t show weakness, especially not to you. So he chose anger instead.

“Since the day we met,” you replied, taking a step and trying to close the gap between the two of you. Instinctively, Azriel took a step back, the shock turning his embarrassment to shame and anger to rage.

“I was eleven when we met, Y/N,” he hissed, implying the absurdity of the time frame. Nearly a century of his fate was kept a mystery to him. Cassian had joined them at that point, pointedly observing that Azriel wasn’t taking the news well. A thought surfaced in his mind. Turning to Cassian, he has to refrain from advancing on his longest friend. “And how long have you known?” Cassian’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Azriel shook his head to clear it, choosing not to remember how you cried at the way he turned away and left you with your heart in his hands, just for him to crush it.

It all made sense after your confession. He never understood why you insisted on being childhood friends. He was broken and lonely and disowned by his own family, but you had always shown true kindness and friendship. As you grew together, you slowly evolved into innocent adolescence first loves, and eventually adult lovers. It wasn’t until your untimely move from Illyria to Velaris to work for the late High Lord that Azriel never saw you again. That is, until the first war with Hybern and your admission of the truth.

After Azriel had recovered from the initial anger and shock, your best kept secret had become a shared secret as the two of you accepted the bond. He still remembers the first time he heard your voice in his head. Your lovely, soft voice that wrapped around his mind like the sweetest honey.

“Old age getting to you?” You teased as Azriel took what looked like a painful blow to the stomach from Rhys during training.

He was so taken aback by your voice that he even turned to you, thinking you had said it out loud. But you weren’t looking at him; you had your back turned in a combat sequence with your brother.

The momentary lapse rewarded him with another hit from Rhys, this time on the side of the head.

“Everything alright, brother?” Rhys asked, concern flooding his voice.

But Azriel only smirked and turned back to his brother to begin again.

“You’ll pay for that later, love” he responded through the bond and could have sworn that he saw you falter in your training from his peripheral vision.

How could he have let this happen? How could he have not foreseen that you would be taken from him? A mysterious invitation calling for the High Lord and his second in command to attend a party Under the Mountain? What kind of Spymaster couldn’t ascertain the danger that now all-consumed the other half of his soul?

Azriels felt something hit his knees, the sting traveling up to make his teeth chatter. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw that he had fallen to the ground of the Townhouse. Cassian quickly knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders to keep him from total collapse.

Azriel stared at Cassian and saw his lips moving rapidly, but no words came out. He furrowed his brows in confusion. What was he trying to tell him?

In fact, Azriel heard no sound at all besides the buzzing silence in his ears and his own mind hurling insult after insult of his own sad excuse of being a mate.

But wait…that was it. Cassian had turned to the others and Azriel was able to read the words on his lips as he spoke to the remaining Inner Circle in the room: She’s his mate.

All at once, too many voices spoke and the sounds came rushing back to Azriel. As if he would keep him from dissolving through the floor, he gripped onto his found brother for dear life.

“Cassian,” Azriel groaned, finding his voice at last. “Cassian, she’s gone. I can’t feel her.”

“We will get her back, brother. I promise.”

#azriel #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #pro azriel

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aestherin · 2 months ago

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I CAN SEE YOU

track 05: late

NOTE: update bc lenten break started ^^ how are y'alll 👀

It was not a hidden truth to you that your good friend Venti, more known by his penname 'Barbatos', had his way with words. If he didn't, how else would he have had the long list of critically acclaimed works penned under his name? However, there was a first for everything.

You now jokingly doubted whether he actually wrote those poems. You mean — how could someone so articulate and flowery fail to do Inazuma justice?!

Yes, Venti did hype the place up. Yes, he did describe it in positive light. Yes, he was convincing enough to make you extend your stay (for a considerable amount of time at that). But you never imagined Inazuma would be this majestic.

After just a step onto Inazuman ground, freshly fallen petals of varying purples graced your feet. Cold, fragrant breeze embraced you immediately, a stark difference from the warm and gentle winds of your homeland.

Wow. You really left home.

Did you ask permission and tell your parents that there won't be anyone home in your apartment for a long while? No.

Did you care?

Well, actually, yes. It was your first time to go out of town after all. And it is a secret trip, no less. You could not help thinking about the repercussions of your actions, but you forced yourself to, for once, live in the moment and cast those worries aside for later.

Was this how your classmates felt when they used to sneak out past their curfews during high school?

"Your room number is 0616. Here is your key card. Enjoy your stay!" The hotel receptionist flashed a smile, to which you were trained to only respond with a small nod and a slight curve of lips.

A small yet clean room welcomed you. The furnishings, though evidently luxurious, was not to your liking, however. It reminded you of home your family house, where everything was excessively lavish all due to your family's vanity and pretentiousness. No matter. Who expects a hotel room to make you feel at home anyway?

Besides, you were planning to search for a temporary rental space after your very very important meeting tomorrow. If luck permits, you may not even be staying for so long in this stuck-up room.

The only thing you have to do for today is rest well and early in order to be in your best state during tomorrow's meeting.

What the heck is happening?!

Trying to keep yourself seem sane and professional as you converse with a few select officers and staff of Narukami Entertainment when, in fact, you were internally freaking out was not how you envisioned this meeting to be.

You really thought you'd do fairly well.

Constant exposure to pretentious men in suits, masked ladies of high society, and those pretenders claiming to be 'art connoisseurs' your whole life has provided you with ample confidence that you can handle today's affairs flawlessly.

Or at the very least, decently.

Well that was before you saw your favorite singer-songwriter's manager in the same meeting room.

"Here, we prepared a contract." Scaramouche's manager slid a folder across the table. "Go through it first. Feel free to tell us if you wish to change anything, or if you find anything disagreeable."

"Thank you."

You started to go through the contract, meticulously going through each and every clause, assessing each and every word — until one stopped you in your tracks.

'Scaramouche.'

Oh fuck.

Your jests were really just that. Just jests. Not even you believed that it would actually turn real. The state of your mind right now was the exact opposite of what you are projecting, seemingly composed as you were signing the papers.

'Archons, what country did I save in my past life that I get to work with my favorite artist in this life?'

'Will Scaramouche be here?'

'Holy, if I work with him, does that mean I get a spoiler about his next album because I get to make a cover? Can I hear sample songs? Can I know the tracklist? Can I get a signed alb—'

"Okay, so are we all good for today then?" His manager asked as he retrieved the documents.

Oh. So I won't be seeing him.

Maybe they don't really allow their artists to just meet anyone. Understandable, especially since Scaramouche is insanely famous. Maybe you'd never even get to interact with him for the whole duration of the project.

Nevertheless, your heart still leaped at the thought of contributing to his upcoming album.

"Yeah." You flashed a smile. "I think I'm good —"

"Sorry I'm late."

I CAN SEE YOU — scara x reader smau

prev . masterlist . next

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @aries-afk @aetherialcrafter @jamieexistss @lordbugs @aerisellesuchi @adres-tia @luvlockettt @kinichval @miiltrix @suzueuieeeee @automaticpatroltragedy @ahirusstuff @kyuki07 @kunikuni1819 @hungryreadingaddict @deariroha @rosieyama @slayzzz @tired-jaz @mellowberrie @kyouzki @riabriyn @ravenbc @lalalaloveallmydays @moonlitreveri3 @skyoverkill1 @kinbedo @phoenix-eclipses @yomishen @anemosmybeloved @iaraluvs @kunikuzushiit @lockandkeys @yoursockstinks @idkwhattoputasmyusernme @d1gital-data @shyentsmissingink @liuaneee @najaemism @mywillt0live @aswiftiechildofapollo @toekissers @meigalaxy @nishiriks @executeher @verafunny @gl00muraaii @lily-isalittlegirl @just-a-hopeless-romantic

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ghoulishhx · 2 months ago

Text

✦ babygirl, i love you

part 1 - please don't go ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ part 2 - acceptance

aaaa part 3!! finally omg im sorry it took me too long. one more part will be coming after this and hint hint, it WILL be smutty. but thank you for all the love on the previous chapters.

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: hurt/comfort to a T, reader is going through it in the beginning, soft frankie, fluff fluff fluff

Tags: @dungeons-bat mwah

Wordcount: 1.7k

──── ୨୧ ────

You couldn’t sleep for the life of you that night, Frank’s apology running rampant through your head. It was mere hours ago he was in your home, asking for your forgiveness, but you chose to just push him away. It was easier that way, you believed. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t ready for more than a hookup with you and you just had to get over that. Tossing and turning, replaying the entire conversation in your mind once more, one particular thing stuck out,

“Baby girl, I lo-”

But you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. What was he going to say? What would’ve happened if you didn’t let your emotions control you in that moment? The result must’ve been better than this, crying into one of his shirts he left over at your house a while back, his faint musk fading away. It could’ve been different, and you can’t help but blame yourself. Despite everything, it was your fault in your mind. You don’t know when, but you fell asleep, tears soaking into the material bunched up under your face, drifting off into slumber with his scent filling your nose.

Waking up the next morning, you felt like you were hungover. Your head pounding, sinuses stuffy. Your heart dropped at the realisation that what happened last night wasn’t a nightmare. Nevertheless, you still crawled out of bed, got dressed and began your day. Walking around your apartment like a zombie, you were on autopilot. “Baby girl, I lo-” repeated in your head all day, like a metronome. A constant reminder of what could’ve been. You could fill in the blanks, you knew that word could only end in one way. It’s too late now, you pushed him away.

You don’t know how, but you made it through the day. Back at home, lying in your bed once again with his shirt. The scent of him still clinging to the fabric. You thought if you could just keep it there, he was still with you. Just hold onto the shirt, hold onto him, his smell, and you weren’t alone, and everything was just a nightmare.

Weeks passed in a flash, the days repeated themselves. You wake up, go to work, get in bed with his shirt, breathe in his smell and it would drift you off to sleep. One night, you began your routine, cosying up with the shirt and that’s when you realised.

It had gone, he had gone.

“No.. no.. please..” you scramble with the fabric, twisting it and maneuvering it in hopes you’ll catch another glimpse of him. But it was no use,

You were alone.

In your anger you toss the garment across the room and sit up cross legged, head in hands. You had never felt more pathetic, your entire existence lied solely on his damn shirt, the last thing of his you could call yours. But just like he did, the scent of him left.

There was no use even trying to sleep now, it was impossible. You decide to do what you used to do, before him. When you couldn’t sleep, you’d put on your robe and climb your fire escape to the roof and sit up there and watch the stars. So that’s what you did, mug in hand you climb to your roof. You hadn’t been up there since you started and stopped seeing Frank, there was no need for it anymore. Those sleepless nights were replaced by him holding you, or with you holding onto any remnant of him.

The cool air of the night hits your face, flushing your cheeks instantly. You sigh as you sit in your usual spot, you can’t fight the tears anymore. They fall like rain, dripping all over your lap as you weep, mourning what could have been. The last time you were up here was the first time the two of you had met, his battered self basking in the moonlight, injured and alone, just like you were. You found solace in his company that night and allowed yourself to fall in love.

“Damn you, Frank Castle.” you softly whisper, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you stare up at the stars.

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, the touch sickeningly recognisable. You turn your head to the side in a flash, heart beating out of your chest. You believe you’re hallucinating, believing you somehow conjured him out of thin air after speaking his name. But no, he was real, his touch was real.

You stare at one another for a few moments, studying his face. He allowed his facial hair to grow out, his hair was considerably longer than before. His eyes were dark, bags under them heavy. But it was him, it was the man who broke your heart.

“Hi sweetheart.” he whispers, breaking the silence, rubbing his thumb along your collarbone.

“Frank.. Wha- what are you doing here?” you mumble, your mind still hazy from seeing him for the first time after months, blinking away the tears in your eyes as you sniffle.

“I.. I just wanted to check if you were okay.. Shit I’ve been comin’ up here every night, hopin’ to see ya.. Make sure you’re alright..” your jaw drops at his admission, after all this time he’d been sat up on the roof like clockwork.

“I didn’ wanna startle ya or nothin’, you told me ya didn’t want me around anymore.. But I just couldn’t bring m’self to stay away.” he looks away, the words flowing out of him before he could even stop himself.

You’re genuinely stunned, not expecting him to be back here, with you. Why was he here? What did he want? Your mind races trying to grasp onto the situation, not once did you see this moment as a possibility amongst all of your thoughts, fully convincing yourself it was over between the two of you and you’d have to spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve been.

“Frank, what were you going to say the last time we spoke, before I cut you off?” you blurt out, eyes quizzically darting around his face, the question that had been on repeat in your mind all this time was about to be answered, hoping it would give you the closure to move on.

“Huh?” he raises his gaze back to yours, eyebrows following suit. The question surprises him, half expecting you to throw punches and tell him to fuck off.

“You said babygirl I lo- and then I cut you off. Please. I need to know what you were going to say.” you’re whispering now, tears welling once more and your heart rapidly beating, you worry the muscle will break through your skin at the sheer pace.

He flexes his jaw, looking at your lips and then back at your eyes. He takes his hand from your shoulder and places it tentatively on your cheek, resuming the circles he was rubbing on your collarbone on your cheek. He exhales deeply, preparing himself for what comes next.

“Babygirl, I love you. That’s what I was gonna sa-”

You interrupt his words with a kiss, a bruising desperate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck as you continue to cry. You cry and cry, but you don’t know the reasoning anymore. Relief? Anger? It doesn’t matter. Your lips were on his once more, and it felt right. Your whole body shudders, the darkness was over. The world around you disappeared, nothing existed anymore but you and Frank in this moment.

You pull away, wrapping your fingers in the collar of his jacket.

“Do you mean it, Frankie? Really? You love me?”

He chuckles, wiping the tears from your eyes, placing kisses across your face while he speaks.

“I do sweet girl, with every fibre of m’ being.” he kisses your forehead “I love ya.” then another on your cheek. “I love ya so fuckin’ much.” and then the opposite cheek. “And ‘m sorry. So fuckin’ sorry” he rests his forehead on yours, hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “‘M not goin’ anywhere ever again, ya hear me?”

You hiccup another choked sob, nodding your head frantically.

“Shh doll, no reason to cry nomore. I’m here, ‘ve got ya.” he kisses you once more, passionately exploring your mouth with his tongue as he tangles his fingers in your hair with one hand and gripping your waist with the other. You rub your hands along his shoulders, taking in the feeling of him again after so long. You hum into the kiss as you feel him smirk against your mouth.

“I’m sorry Frankie, I shouldn't have left you up here all those nights. Should’ve just let you speak last time, instead of kicking you out.” you sigh in between kisses, addicted to his taste, the feeling of him on your lips once more.

“You’ve got no reason to be sorry doll, ‘m here now. That’s all over, ya here me?” he says, pulling away briefly. His heart warms at the sight before him, you smiling. He had gone too long without seeing that damn smile.

“Okay.” you whisper, wiping your tears away once more. “I’ve missed you Frankie.”

“I’ve missed ya more, my sweet girl. Let’s get you inside, fuckin’ freezin’ up here.” he kisses your cheek, pulling you to your feet, guiding you to your apartment. You can’t help but smile to yourself, he came back. He’s yours.

“I love you Frank.” you grab his hand, and he spins back around to you.

“I love you too sweetheart.” fuck did it sound good coming from his lips. “Now c’mon, lemme make up for all the lost time without each other.” he winks, tapping your ass, sending you in front of him. You giggle and for the first time in what felt like forever, you were fully at ease.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i have no self control and i had to stop punishing myself and just make them make the fuck UP. like i said tho its gonna get freaky in the next part so enjoy xo

my inbox is open!

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maiiuelle · 10 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

rafe cameron is not known for giving heartfelt apologies, but after what he had done to you last week, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

he tried all his usual methods of letting go — starting with more meaningless hook ups, cocaine, and partying. it felt natural to try to move on like you were just another fling, after all you were never officially together. it worked enough to keep him occupied, but ultimately, it only made him feel worse to pretend you meant nothing to him. it serves as a constant reminder of exactly how he made you feel that night — like nothing.

the intrusive memory of what happened haunts him. before the incident, you were really growing on him. he made you his main girl without meaning to, inviting you to the club and out golfing just because he genuinely wanted you there beside him. by the time he realized he had real feelings for you, it felt like everyone else already knew.

you made him feel vulnerable, and it scared him. being so public with you put his emotions out on display. he had to remind himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, you were just supposed to be another girl he had on his roster. he has a big ego and an even bigger reputation, and in an attempt to protect that rather than you, he continued on with his bachelor lifestyle.

he never imagined you’d show up that night — he hoped brushing you off would shoo you away, save you from the inevitable realization he isn’t as great as he makes himself out to be. instead, you made him face you head on, and he would remember the devastated look on your face forever.

the nonchalant mask finally slips when his friends start asking where you went, having noticed your sudden absence. after all that time of trying to suppress his guilt, it struck a nerve just hearing your name. “who’s asking? ‘cause—cause i know it’s none of your fuckin’ business what she’s up to.”

topper lifts his hands in surrender, eyeing kelce. “woah. chill, man. i was just wondering, i thought you were into that chick.”

kelce snickers, taking the chance to finally get payback for every time rafe mocked them for chasing after girls. “what? did she dump you or something?”

rafe just pushes out of his seat, waving them off as he finishes what’s left in his glass. he doesn’t spare his friends another glance despite their boisterous protests, instead just addressing the bartender on his way out. “put it on cameron.”

he can’t handle it anymore, he has to do something.

it’s officially been a week since you last saw rafe. like clockwork the early birds begin to sing songs as they welcome the brand new day, the sun just starting to rise above the horizon. you’re still awake from the night before, unable to sleep with how your mind is racing.

you had been holding it together much better than rafe — to the public, you’re thriving. you go out with your friends every night, looking better than ever at yacht parties and the island club. it’s freeing to spend more time with your girl friends again, but you really can’t stand to spend any time by yourself.

thats why the nights are the worst, when you’re stuck alone in the silent solitude of your bedroom. that’s where you are now, wrapped up in your duvet with puffy eyes from crying all night over him. you just couldn’t wrap your head around the betrayal — after you thought you truly knew him, he turned out to be exactly how everyone said he was. manipulative, slimy, and selfish. your heart aches at your own ignorance, feeling stupid for not seeing the now obvious red flags.

to try to get your mind off of him, even just for a second, you tune into the gentle tapping of morning rain on your windowsill. in an overtired daze, you dream of being a princess locked away in a tower with your heroic lover waiting below, tossing stones at your window to garner your attention.

you don’t let it play on for too long, cutting it off abruptly by pulling your pillow over your face, silently scolding yourself. your infatuation with romance novels is what got you into this mess in the first place, making you delusively believe that rafe cameron was your prince charming. so stupid.

but, the tapping grows louder, your silly fantasy rebelling against you, refusing to disappear. in a fit of exhausted frustration, you grab the pillow off your head and throw it across the room, watching as it lands flat on the floor just short of the window, just in time for one of the shiny stones from your garden to hit the glass. then another, and another.

it couldn’t be. you can’t believe your eyes, especially after a long night of sobbing and zero sleep. you slowly slip out of your bed, walking up to the window cautiously.

“oh, you have to be joking.” you look down from your bedroom window to see none other than rafe standing in your lawn with a hand full of rocks and his truck parked on the curb. he’s clearly had a long night too, swaying on his feet and deflating when he sees you appear in the window.

“baby! baby — please talk to me!” he shouts, and you rush to push your window open. your father already hates the camerons, and you don’t want to deal with that confrontation if he wakes him up this early in the morning.

“shhh!” you press your finger to your lips, practically pushing your whole upper body out the window urgently to whisper-shout at him. “what are you thinking? my dad’s gonna kill you!”

“baby, i—i need to talk to you, please.” rafe whines, dropping the rest of the stones in his hand so he can push his bangs back. desperation looks strange on him, in your state of shock you hold up a hand to silence him and give yourself a second to weigh your options. you could get him back for what he did right now, do exactly what he did to you — you could scream at him to leave, to never speak to you again, and go get your father to handle the rest.

but instead, you just roll your eyes. so stupid. “just.. just wait a second.” you sigh as you shut the window quietly, closing your eyes for a moment of pause. before you change your mind, you march to your bedroom door, grabbing your fluffy robe and slipping it over your shoulders followed by your slippers.

you would never do any of that to him, not with the way you still feel about him, no matter how frustrating that is. you wish he could just be dead to you, but that’s not how you feel. the least you could do is hear out what he has to say for himself, even big bad rafe cameron deserves a second chance.

you take a deep breath as you slip down the stairs quietly, bracing yourself to face him. you open the front door, pulling your robe tighter over your nightgown to fight the cold morning air that bites at your skin as you sneak outside.

rafe rushes toward you, holding his head in anguish. “baby, listen to me. i—i know i screwed up, alright? i—”

“stop!” you thump your foot on the front porch, glaring at him from the top of the wooden steps. just because you’re kind enough to give him the time of day doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. he listens, pausing with wide eyes as he looks you over. he really is a mess, tears falling from his eyes and mixing with the morning rain that’s already soaked his hair and shirt. “god, rafe. what is going on with you?”

“i’m a fuckin’ idiot.” he cries, his face twisting as he sobs. “we had something good, right? and—and i fucked it all up. i did. it’s all my fault.”

you stand there with your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.“how do you think i feel? i thought you cared, meanwhile you’re lying to me and fucking some other girl?” you frown, staring him down. “you.. you humiliated me!”

“i know, i know — trust me, i know!” he grits his teeth, spinning on his heel in frustration before pacing back toward you. “you’ve got no idea, alright? i promise you, i’ve torn myself apart enough over this. just—” he strains, sucking in a shaky deep breath and forcing it out, trying to calm down. “i need you. okay?”

“oh really? how am i supposed to trust you?” you spit, venom in your voice. seeing him grovel at your front steps is oddly satisfying, even though the deep hurt in his voice is twisting your stomach.

“baby, look at me!” rafe drags his hands down his wet shirt, looking at you like a puppy dog stuck out in the rain. “i’m a fuckin’ mess without you. look, i—i took advantage of the situation, alright, i admit that. but i can’t breathe without you.” he stops, fidgeting anxiously as he waits for a response. you’re frozen, equally as shocked as him at his words. the anxiety gets the better of him and he steps forward, moving up the steps toward you. seeing your teary, red eyes stings in his chest. “c’mere, okay? let’s just — let’s just put this all behind us, right?”

“rafe—”

“nah, nah. it’s alright, c’mere.” he coos, and you kick yourself because you don’t back away, instead letting him come up on your porch and put his arms out for you. you blink up at him with your doe eyes, the sympathetic look on his face melting your defense. you just crumble into his arms, having been so desperate for him to comfort you exactly how he his now. “c’mon, there you go. you’re my girl. my girl.”

could you give him another chance?

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

#my inbox is open! ‧₊˚.#i’m envisioning s1 rafe tbh..#this is just the first time rafe and kook!reader break up #and it is not the last…#obx #kook!reader ౨ৎ ೃ༄#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron headcanon #rafe drabble #rafe headcanon

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gojoluvs · 1 year ago

Text

J'adore

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

summary, “her world turned upside down when her boss announced that he was the father of her unborn child. As she navigates her new life as a wife and mother, she finds herself falling for her husband's best friend, Suguru Geto. But is it love she feels? or just a desperate attempt to be noticed by someone other than her husband..”

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, violence.

Genre; angst, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader, modern au!, business au!

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message.

7k words

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"Welcome Mrs. Gojou, will you take a seat please?" The brown-haired woman gestured towards the chair in front of her desk.

You followed her instructions and sat down, taking in the sterile, white room around you.

The woman, who you assumed was the ultrasound technician, grabbed her gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer, making sure to clean her hands before beginning the procedure.

As she prepared the ultrasound machine, you couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. This was your first ultrasound, and you couldn't wait to see your baby for the first time.

The technician, sensing your anxiousness, smiled and said, "Don't worry, everything will be just fine."

You nodded and took a deep breath as you slowly laid down on the ultrasound table. The technician applied some gel to your stomach and began moving the wand around, searching for a clear image of your baby. As she did so, she asked, "How have you been feeling, Y/N?"

You smiled and replied, "A little tired and nauseous, but overall, I'm doing well.”

As you settled into Satoru's lavish house, the only person you could really call a friend was his maid. She was kind and always made sure you were well taken care of. However, Satoru had a different idea of taking care of you.

He insisted that you stop working because, for him, he made over 7 figures as the CEO of one of the most well-known stock markets. He wanted you to focus on being a housewife and living a life of luxury.

You had never been one to rely on a man for financial stability, but Satoru's charm and wealth was hard to resist. Plus, he seemed genuinely caring and attentive towards you. However, as you spent more time in his house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness and lack of purpose.

As she squeezed the cold gel onto your stomach, you couldn't help but think about your old job and the satisfaction it gave you.

You missed the feeling of being independent and working towards your own goals. But for now, you were stuck in this luxurious prison, under the control of a man who inherited his wealth and business from his father.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was the life you truly wanted, or if you were just settling for the convenience and comfort that Satoru provided. As the cold gel seeped into your skin, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing.

Although you were excited about your upcoming marriage, there was also a sense of unease and disappointment. You couldn't help but wish that your fiancee, Satoru, could be with you during this time.

But the reality was that he was always busy with work, his success as the youngest CEO in Japan consuming his every waking moment.

You often found yourself alone in bed at night, the emptiness and coldness a constant reminder of his absence. Despite the lavish and extravagant lifestyle that came with being engaged to such a successful man, you couldn't help but feel like you were missing out on something more important - quality time and genuine love.

After all, your relationship with Satoru was an arranged marriage, forced upon you after you became pregnant with his child. And as much as you tried to please his family and win their acceptance, there were always those who looked down upon you and your situation.

But deep down, you couldn't help but resent Satoru for his lack of affection and attention towards you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were truly happy in this arrangement.

“If you can see here,” She grabbed her monitor turning it to face you. You knew her as one of Satoru’s friends. “Your baby is barely a tiny embryo, about the size of a pea.”

You smiled, seeing the small fetus on the monitor. You wished that Satoru could be here with you. Holding your hand and caressing your head but instead here you were. By yourself watching as the screen showed the small heartbeat of your baby.

After what felt like both the longest and shortest 20 minutes of your life, the technician turned off the machine and smiled at you. "Everything looks great, Y/N. Your baby is healthy and growing right on track."

As you stared at the screen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt and insecurity. Would your fiancee ever truly see you as his partner, or would you always just be a means to an end? The ultrasound picture in your hand seemed to mock you, a reminder of the life growing inside you that would bind you to this man forever.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Satoru was still in love with Asami, his beautiful and practical secretary. You had never been properly introduced to her, always feeling like an outsider in your own relationship. You couldn't even go back to work, as Utahime would constantly update you on everything happening in the office - including Asami's constant presence and the expensive gifts she received from Satoru.

The constant flowers and expensive gifts Satoru's lover received from your fiancée only added insult to injury. While you never expected extravagant gifts, you never even received a simple gesture of affection from Satoru. He never touched you, never kissed you goodbye, and never gave you a hug. Whenever you would try to connect with him by asking about his work or if he was hungry, he would give you the cold shoulder.

Despite not being a great cook, you made an effort to prepare breakfast for Satoru like a professional. You whipped up pancakes and served them on a platter, hoping he would enjoy them. But time and time again, he would make an excuse about being "late" for work and leave without even taking a bite.

It seemed like all your efforts to connect with Satoru were overlooked and unappreciated. The only person who seemed to enjoy your company was his maid, who was kind and always treated you with respect. It was clear that your fiancée was not only mean and an asshole, but also had no interest in building a loving and fulfilling relationship with you.

“Would you like me to print the picture for you?” She asked her soft brown eyes boring into you. She was absolutely gorgeous aswell, her noticable eyebags bringing her features out.

“Yes please,” Wiping off the gel she got up, throwinf away the piece of paper before leaving the room.

You sat there, the ac blowing. Placing a hand on your stomach you couldn’t believe you were actually having a baby with your boss.

You never really had a serious relationship with anyone, always having flings. Yet you found yourself making out with your boss after his promotion party.

There was something about the way his eyes stared hungrily at you, maybe it was the liquor that made you two sleep together but now here you were. Sitting down awaiting for a picture of your baby.

Fidgeting with the button of your jeans you waited nervously. Hoping that maybe this would mean a new opportunity to be with Satoru.

"Alright, everything seems to be good, here you go," said the doctor entering the room with a small picture of your ultrasound. She handed it to you with a warm smile, and you eagerly grabbed it, feeling a sense of joy and excitement wash over you.

"Thank you so much," you said, beaming with happiness. You grabbed your purse and quickly made your way out of the room, eager to share the news with your fiancee. As you hurried down the stairs and out of the building, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation.

Your fiancee was waiting for you in his black range rover, looking as handsome as ever. You opened the car door and climbed inside, a bit out of breath from the stairs. "What took you so long?" he asked, side eying you with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I just had to grab something," you replied, handing him the picture of your ultrasound. But instead of sharing in your excitement, he just scoffed and spat out, "I'm not looking at that." He carelessly threw the picture back at you, his words stinging like a slap in the face.

You felt your heart sink as you looked down at the picture, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't believe the callousness and lack of empathy in his words. But you knew deep down that this was just a glimpse of the kind of person he truly was.

"Listen, I'm going to take you back home," your fiancé said, his voice cold and condescending. "Mina has a dress ready for you. There's going to be a business party and I want you to be on your best behavior." He licked his lips suggestively and pressed the button to roll down the car window.

You felt a knot form in your stomach as you nervously played with the picture of your ultrasound. You knew your husband's business parties were nothing more than excuses for him to flirt with his colleagues and show off his trophy wife.

"A business party? Will everyone from the office be there?" you asked, forcing yourself to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road, not bothering to spare a glance at you.

"Of course they will," he replied, his tone condescending. "And I expect you to make a good impression. We don't want anyone knowing our personal business, do we?"

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to argue. You knew it would be pointless. Your fiancé always got what he wanted, and you were just a pawn in his game. But as he continued to talk about the party, you couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest.

“There will be an after party as well, but you won't be attending since,” he paused for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your stomach before returning to the road. “You're pregnant.”

"Just because I'm carrying your child doesn't mean anything, Satoru." You spat back, angrily putting your picture inside your purse.

"I'm taking Asami with me instead. You can stay home and rest." You glared at him, feeling hurt and furious at his insensitivity. How dare he take his assistant and ex-lover to the after party instead of you? Your blood boiled with anger and resentment towards your fiancee.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you need your assistant there and not me? I'm your fucking fiancee, Satoru," you snapped, unable to contain your frustration.

"She's not just an assistant, Y/N," Satoru replied sharply. "And what did I say about talking back to me?" He gave you a warning look, his gaze boring into you. You wanted to scream and punch him for the nerve of not taking you, but you knew it would only make things worse.

"You know what? I don't even want to go to the stupid after party," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll stay here and enjoy some peace and quiet while you go gallivanting with your little plaything." You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, hurt and anger mixing together to form a bitter concoction.

The more you thought about it, the more resentful you became. It was bad enough that Asami was his assistant, but the fact that they used to be lovers only added salt to the wound. You couldn't believe he would choose her over you. It felt like a slap in the face.

Satoru's face hardened and he clenched his jaw. "Don't you dare talk about Asami like that. She's just my assistant."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Just like how she was just your lover, right?"

Satoru's expression turned dark as he glared at you. "Watch your tone, she is a professional and a valuable member of our team."

"Valuable in more ways than one, I'm sure," you retorted, your jealousy and anger fueling your words.

"Stop with your baseless accusations and insecurities," Satoru shot back, his voice dripping with irritation. "Asami and I have a strictly professional relationship, unlike you and your constant mood swings."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed, struggling to contain your anger. "You have no respect for me, even though I am pregnant with your child."

Satoru rolled his eyes and slammed the car door shut as he pulled into the driveway. You followed suit, opening the car door and slamming it with a loud thud. This man had no regard for your feelings or well-being, constantly belittling and disrespecting you.

As you entered the house, you could feel the tension in the air. You placed your things on the counter and grabbed the ultrasound picture, placing it on the fridge with a small magnet. You couldn't help but smile at the small embryo growing inside you, a glimmer of hope in the midst of your tumultuous relationship.

"Ms. Y/N," your maid appeared behind you, her gentle hands taking your coat and bag from you before leading you to your bedroom. You followed her, grateful for the brief respite from Satoru's intense gaze.

Satoru entered after you, his confident steps echoing in the hallway. He placed a hand on his tie before undoing it, his eyes never leaving yours. You closed the bedroom door, letting out a shaky breath as you leaned against it. Unbuttoning your jeans, you let them fall to the floor before walking to your bathroom. The cold marble floor felt refreshing against your bare feet.

"Um, Mina, can you please have my things out? We'll be leaving soon," you said, forcing a smile as you silently closed the door behind you.

Being away from Satoru's presence for a few minutes felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You began undressing the rest of yourself, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were drawn to the tiny bump on your stomach, only six weeks along but already noticeable.

You open the glass door, feeling a cool breeze hit your skin as you step into the shower. You test the water temperature with your hand and adjust it to your liking before stepping fully under the stream. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, you slowly pour some onto your hand and massage it into your hair, relishing the feeling of cleanliness and freshness.

But as the water runs down your body, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. This whole thing feels wrong. You place both of your hands on your face, the water washing away any traces of tears. You hate this. You hate being away from home, from your family. Even though the only family you have left is your father.

The shower is quick, scrubbing your body with a loofah and doing all your essentials before stepping out. You wrap your body in a fluffy towel and slip on your slippers, walking out of the restroom and into your bedroom. The familiar scent of your own room comforts you, but it also serves as a reminder of how far away you are from home. You long for the familiarity and warmth of your family, but for now, this temporary living situation will have to do.

Your eyes were drawn to the beautiful dark red gown laid out on your bed. Walking towards it, you couldn't resist the urge to touch the fabric and feel the soft silk through the fingertips of your fingers. "Mina!" You yelled, quickly grabbing your underwear and putting it on before your maid came in.

Mina's face was slightly flushed as she entered your room and bowed, closing the door behind her. You could tell she was a bit flustered from seeing your body half-naked, but she remained professional as she awaited your command. "Do you think you can help me get into the dress?" You asked kindly, picking up the gown and passing it to her.

With a nod, Mina approached you and carefully helped you into the dress. She adjusted the straps and made sure it fit you perfectly, like it was made for you. You couldn't help but feel like a princess as you admired yourself in the mirror. "Thank you, Mina," you said with a smile.

Mina then handed you a pair of white gloves and you slid them onto your arms. Mina bowed once again, ready to leave and let you finish getting ready.

But before she could, you stopped her and said, “Please Mina, Help me with my hair will you?” You asked kindly, watching as she made you sit on your vanity, excusing herself for a moment to get the tools and supplies she needed you stared at yourself in the mirror.

As you sat in front of your vanity, Mina carefully brushed out your hair and began styling it into an elegant updo. You couldn't believe how kind she was being, helping you with something as simple as your hair. You were used to doing everything on your own, but Mina's presence made you feel cared for and pampered.

She applied makeup and added finishing touches to your hair, you couldn't help but stare at your reflection. You looked like a completely different person, someone who belonged in a fairytale or a fancy ball. This was all so new to you, as you were used to wearing work clothes or comfortable sweats.

But you had to admit, you looked stunning. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel like a princess, basking in the luxury of it all. But deep down, you knew this wasn't really you. You were just a simple person, and all of this was foreign to you.

Mina's hands moved quickly, expertly adorning you with various pieces of jewelry. "We have this pearl necklace, it brings out your collarbones more, and this one," she said, holding up a red jeweled necklace, "it brings out your facial features, especially your eye color."

As she placed the necklace around your neck, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her short bobbed hair and dark green eyes were mesmerizing. You couldn't resist smiling at her as she finished her task.

"Which one do you think is better, Mina?" you asked, admiring yourself in the mirror.

Mina seemed taken aback by your question, stuttering slightly before recomposing herself. She carefully chose the red necklace and placed it back on you, clipping the clasp in place. "The red jewel really makes you look like a princess, Miss Gojo," she said with a smile as you turned to face her.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for Mina's help. Her attention to detail and eye for beauty made you feel like royalty. "Thank you, Mina," you said, genuinely touched by her kindness.

Mina smiled back and gave you a small nod before stepping back to admire her work. "You look stunning," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel confident and beautiful, thanks to Mina's expert styling. You were lucky to have her as your friend and maid.

The whole time you spent gossiping and getting to learn about Mina's life, you couldn't help but admire her. She was truly a sweet soul, always kind and hardworking despite being in a low-paying job as your maid. Her resilience and positive attitude were something you looked up to. As you walked through your luxurious home, you couldn't help but feel guilty.

Mina deserved a better life, one with more opportunities and less back-breaking labor. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, a reminder of the stark contrast between your lives. As you grabbed your designer purse and said your goodbyes to Mina, you couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards her.

"Please, take this time off and get some rest," you insisted, knowing how hard she worked every day. You watched as she reluctantly agreed, and as you walked out of your home, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you wished you could do more for her.

Closing the door behind you as you walked out of your house, you felt a sense of tension in the air. Satoru was standing on the driveway, his arms pushed into the pockets of his black suit, his back leaning against his sleek Mercedes Benz. As you approached him, his gaze was fixed on you, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. You could feel his intense stare, making you self-conscious about how you looked.

You were wearing a stunning dress that hugged your body perfectly, accentuating your curves in all the right places. Your face was glowing, and your collarbones were prominently displayed, making you feel both beautiful and vulnerable under his gaze.

But Satoru's reaction is what surprises you. His mouth slightly agape, he looks like he's seeing you for the first time. You pass by him, unable to resist a small smile as you hear him let out a soft sigh.

"Don't look at me like that," you say, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

You reach for the passenger door and open it, climbing into the car and trying to ignore the intensity of Satoru's gaze. "Like what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Like you've never seen me before," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru doesn't respond, but you can feel the tension between you. It's been building up since you walked out of the house, and now it's almost palpable in the air. You can't help but wonder what he's thinking, what he wants to say.

Finally, he opens the car door and gets in, his eyes never leaving yours. The drive to your destination is filled with a charged silence, the tension between you growing with each passing minute. But for now, you just sit in the car, the only sound the quiet hum of the engine and the beating of your heart.

Ignoring his presence, your gaze shifted to the window, taking in the familiar scenery outside. The trees rustled in the gentle breeze, and the sun was just starting to set, casting a warm glow over the quiet neighborhood. You watched as he backed the car out of the driveway and onto the road, his expression unreadable.

The car ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional glance exchanged between the two of you. His hair was slicked back, accentuating his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but notice the engagement ring on his finger as he turned the wheel to take a sharp turn. Your own ring felt heavy on your finger, and you couldn't stop fidgeting with it nervously.

Sitting in the luxurious car, dressed in a designer gown and adorned with expensive jewelry, you couldn't believe that this was your life now. Just a few weeks ago, you were a struggling employee, barely making ends meet and working for a difficult boss. You didn't know that he would be the man you would be engaged to, or that you would end up pregnant with his child. And now, you were about to marry him in an arranged marriage, all because of that one night of passion.

Looking out the window, you couldn't help but think about the life you could have had if you didn't get pregnant. Maybe you would have met someone else, someone who you could have married and had a family with. But instead, you were now a part of one of the most powerful and influential families in the country. The Gojo family was treated like royalty, and you were now going to become a part of it.

This was the man you would spend the rest of your life with, and it all started with one unexpected pregnancy.

Stepping out of the car, the bustling sounds of the city surrounded you. Gojo, your fiancé, opened the door for you and grabbed your hand, placing it gently on his forearm. The luxurious car door closed with a satisfying thud and Gojo handed the keys to the parking attendant who quickly took his car to the reserved section of the party.

Outside of the building, a sea of paparazzi awaited your arrival, their cameras flashing and voices yelling. You held onto your elegant dress, carefully making your way up the stairs as Gojo led the way. As soon as the paparazzi spotted your fiancé, they erupted into a frenzy, shouting his name and begging for him to look at their cameras. You held onto Gojo's arm tightly, feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the attention.

"Gojo! Over here!" they yelled, their voices competing for his attention. He pulled you closer, shielding you from the flashes and noise before finally stopping to pose for a photo, much to the delight of the paparazzi.

Satisfied with your appearance, you confidently walked over to the entrance of the grand building. As you stepped inside, you were met with the grandeur of the foyer - a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm and inviting glow over the space.

The sound of lively conversations and laughter filled the air as you made your way through the crowded hallway, passing clusters of elegantly dressed men and women. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you walked further into the party, the energy and sophistication of the room enveloping you. Everywhere you looked, there were people engaged in lively conversations, sipping on glasses of champagne or wine, and admiring each other's luxurious gowns and suits.

Satoru cleared his throat once he spotted Asami, wearing a tight long black dress. She scurried towards you, glancing at you before smiling for a split second. Her smile seemed fake, as if she was trying too hard to appear friendly. You could feel your blood boiling as she placed her hand on his bicep and turned to look at you.

You could see the tension in her eyes as she tried to maintain her composed facade. "Do you mind if I take him for a moment?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Your eyes narrowed at her before turning to look at your fiancé's expression. He seemed uncomfortable, almost avoiding eye contact with you. "I don't give a fuck what you do," you spat back, your anger and frustration rising.

You couldn't believe this woman had the audacity to try and take your fiancé away from you, even just for a moment. You walked away from the ex lovers, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoing in the hallway.

You walked away, Feeling Asami's eyes on you, almost like she was waiting for you to lash out at her. But you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You didn't want to stoop to her level and engage in her petty games. You rolled your eyes at them, walking away and distancing yourself from the drama. You didn't want to deal with her bullshit, especially not while you were pregnant and already dealing with enough emotions. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just the fact that you couldn't stand her, but you were glad to have walked away from that toxic situation.

You were standing next to a table in the corner of the room, watching the crowd of people mingling and laughing. You let out a sigh, feeling a bit left out. You really did wish you could drink right now, but you knew you couldn't. Not with the baby growing inside of you. Suddenly, a girl approached your table, placing a cup of champagne on it before turning to look at you. She was wearing a beautiful white dress, her long brown hair cascading down her back.

"Are you the new fiancée of Satoru?" she asked, watching as you turned to face her. You were a bit taken aback by her sudden question. How did she know who you were? And why was she approaching you?

"Yes, who may you be?" you asked politely, trying to hide your confusion. The girl smiled at you, her eyes showing slight signs of exhaustion.

"Sorry, we met earlier," she explained. She extended her hand out, waiting for you to grab it and shake it. You smiled back and shook her hand, trying to place where you might have met her before.

"I was the ultrasound technician who did your appointment earlier today," she said, taking a sip of the champagne. It all clicked in your mind now. This was the kind woman who had performed your ultrasound and showed you the image of your little bundle of joy.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Ieiri," you said, grateful for her introduction. You couldn't help but notice the slight bags under her eyes, a sign of her long and tiring day.

"Please, call me Shoko," she said with a warm smile, retreating her hand and taking another sip of champagne. You couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity with her, and you were grateful for her presence in this unfamiliar gathering.

Thats when it happened, completely star struck. You instantly recognized him, Suguru Geto. The man who partnered up with your fiancee for one of the most known stock exchange in Japans history.

He walked into the room with confidence, his tall frame and sharp features immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He wore a sleek black suit, his hair styled in a neat bun with a few strands of hair falling out to frame his face. His dark eyes scanned the room, his presence commanding attention and respect.

As he approached your table, he had a warm and gentle smile on his face. He placed his glass of champagne down and turned to look at you. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in every detail. You could feel his gaze on you, causing your heartbeat to quicken. His eyes stopped at your face, lingering on your lips before looking back up to meet your gaze.

"Absolutely gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. He reached for your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Your heart fluttered at his touch, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of electricity between the two of you. He placed your hand back down with a smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream, a cruel trick your brain was playing on you. But as the music filled your ears and Suguru's hand gently rested on the small of your back, you couldn't help but feel like you were in a fairytale.

"I- Uhm," you stuttered, feeling your heart race as you tried to recompose yourself. "Thank you."

Suguru's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he introduced himself. "I'm Suguru Geto," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N," you replied, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile. You couldn't believe you were standing next to him, the man you've admired from afar for so long.

"Would you like to dance Y/N?" Suguru asked, his voice low and filled with admiration as he looked at you. His dark hair fell over his intense gaze, making you feel like the only person in the room.

"Me?" You stuttered, taken aback by his request. The Suguru Geto, known for his aloofness and cold demeanor, was asking you to dance with him at this fancy party. And to make it even more surprising, no one else was dancing.

With a nod, Suguru stepped closer to you. "Of course you, who else?" His hand reached out to gently rest on your back as he led you towards the dance floor.

As the music continued to play, Suguru's hand moved from your back to intertwine with yours. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as he led you to the dance floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The steamy tension between the two of you was palpable as you swayed to the music, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

He turned you to face him, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, making your heart race even faster. His hand clasped yours tightly, his fingers entwined with yours as he put his other hand on your back, pulling you close to him. You couldn't help but inhale sharply as you felt his cold palms touch your skin, the contrast between his cool touch and the warmth of his body sending your senses into overdrive.

As you looked away, you noticed people beginning to stare at the two of you, their eyes filled with curiosity and perhaps a hint of envy. But you were too lost in the moment, too entranced by Suguru's touch and the way his eyes seemed to burn into yours, to care about anyone else. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you became acutely aware of the intense gaze he had fixed on you.

And then, as if he could sense your discomfort, he spinned you around, his hand on your back guiding your movements as he pulled you even closer. Your dress flowed slightly as he moved, his eyes never leaving yours. And then, with a mischievous smile on his face, he leaned in close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Ignore them," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded as you continued to dance in a slow pace, others beginning to join you aswell. Before you knew it most of the people at the party where dancing along with their partners. Smiles and giggles filled the room.

You were smiling at Suguru, your heart beating with excitement as he spun you around on the dance floor. Suddenly, you felt yourself being snatched away from his grasp, and your eyes landed on your fiancée’s face that was full of anger.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at Suguru, who was standing there staring at you and Satoru. Raising his eyebrows, Satoru cocked his head towards his best friend and said, “So we’re letting other men touch you now?”

You scoffed at his possessiveness as he placed his hand on your back, his nails scratching your skin as he pulled you close. You could feel his muscles tense as you danced with him, maintaining eye contact in defiance. “So now you want to start paying attention to me after I’m seen dancing with another guy?” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. As you spun around, your hands extended outwards, and he did a half turn, pulling you back against his chest as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

Even though you were dancing with his best friend, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your fiancée's touch. His strong arms wrapped around you, his breath on your neck, and the way he effortlessly moved with you made it hard to resist.

"Your my fiancée," he said, his voice low and filled with desire. As he leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on the back of your head, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. "And he's my best friend," he added, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

"And? You were off with Asami doing god knows what," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned away from him. But he quickly grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him. His hands trailed over your body, causing shivers to run down your spine as you fought to keep your composure. But the music and the buzz of the party seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scanned over your dress and back to your eyes.

"No, disgusted," you spat back, narrowing your eyes at him. But he didn't seem fazed, his smirk only growing wider.

"After all, you are just a man," you added, pushing yourself away from him and walking towards the restroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, and you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

But your eyes quickly landed on Suguru, who was standing off to the side, watching you with a mixture of longing. You gave him a small smile before turning back to the hallway.

Sighing, you walked towards the ladies room and to the sink, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. You turned on the faucet, the sound of the rushing water a soothing background noise. As you washed your hands, you couldn't help but glance up at your reflection in the mirror.

But as you turned around to leave, you bumped into someone, causing their purse to fall to the ground. Immediately, you bent down to pick it up, dusting it off gently before handing it back to the person.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-" you began to apologize, but quickly stopped as you saw the familiar smile on Asami's face. Your annoyance with her grew as you realized she was probably enjoying this encounter. She scanned her eyes all over you, making you feel exposed and uncomfortable.

"It's okay," she said, her voice almost sing-song as she watched you with a pout. You couldn't help but narrow your eyes at her, your annoyance evident in the way your eyebrows twitched. But before you could say anything, she smiled again and turned to you, tilting her head slightly.

"Y/n?" She called out, her voice almost teasing. You turned to her, your expression still showing your irritation. But she didn't seem to care as she continued to smile at you, her head tilted to the side in a playful manner. It was clear that she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you couldn't help but feel annoyed at her childish behavior.

"I'm so happy you don't mind that Satoru promoted me to take over your spot in the office," Her lips curled into a smile almost sadistic. Your expression went from annoyed to disbelief as you realized that she was reveling in your misery.

"Y'know, I really did like being his Assistant but now that he promoted me, I can be with him more often..." she paused, stepping closer and tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "And maybe be even promoted as an associate!" she chirped, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

Clasping her hands together, she waited for you to speak up. But instead, you chuckled, licking your lips as you stared at her, the anger and disgust rising in your throat. "So this is what gets you off?" you said, lowering your eyes and looking at her with disgust.

"Huh?" she replied, stunned at what you were saying.

"Do you enjoy seeing me annoyed? Do you get pleasure from making me mad?" You scoffed, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms. The music of the party was muffled and the sounds of people talking outside could be heard, but all you could focus on was Asami's twisted enjoyment at your expense.

"Asami, you're nothing but a burden to me," You sneered your eyes cold and calculating. Asami's smile faltered for a split second before she began to laugh at you. The sound was shrill and mocking, causing a chill to run down your spine.

But then, Asami's laughter stopped abruptly and she stepped closer to you. "Is that what you really think?" she asked, her lips twitching into a sly smile. "That I'm a burden to you?" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and you could see the anger burning in her eyes. "Well, Y/N, let me tell you something. I am not a burden. In fact, I am your worst fucking nightmare."

"You're just another weak and pathetic girl who thinks she can take my place in Satoru's life." She took another step closer, until your faces were only inches apart. "But let me make one thing clear, Y/N. Satoru will never love you like he loved me. And I will make sure that you suffer for trying to take him away from me."

Asami's breath was hot and putrid, and you couldn't help but gag at the smell. But she seemed to revel in your discomfort, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "And now, with you carrying his child, you are even more of a burden to him. He will never be able to fully commit to you because of that," she sneered, her words like daggers in your heart.

"Really, Asami?" You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were just a pathetic ex who couldn't move on." Asami's eyes narrowed at the insult. "But I see now that you're not just pathetic, you're also delusional." Your words were like daggers, and you could see them hitting their mark as Asami's expression twisted in anger.

"You know what, Y/N?" Asami said through gritted teeth. "You may think you have some sort of power over me because you're pregnant with Satoru's baby, but you're wrong." Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her pregnancy, but she refused to show any reaction.

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. "Honey, you couldn't even handle a day in my shoes," you said confidently. "But hey, if you want to try and make my life a living hell, go ahead. I could use a good laugh." Asami's face turned red with rage, but she couldn't come up with a response.

Before she could say anything someone else walked in, breaking the small argument between you and Asami, smiling you walked passed her and out of the restroom just to be met with the face of Suguru. You looked stunned, he followed you all the way here?

Pushing past him he grabbed your arm, stopping you from walking away, “Y/N, wait,”

“I want you to work by my side,” he said taking the card out and handing it to you.

“Just call me,” He said before smiling at you and excusing himself.

You fidgeted with the card, feeling the rough material before turning and watching Suguru go back into the party.

taglist: @ryumurin @h0neysiba @satoruontopofme @nerdiellers @iaminyourfloors @aleigant @stariiesz

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akutasoda · 9 months ago

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"i think i was born wanting more, i think i was born missing you"

--he always brushed you off, pushing you further and further to keep you out of the way. yet when he sees you with someone else, he lets the bitter jealousy get the best of him - and for the first time, he thinks with his heart, not his brain. but it's too late.

--warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, angst no comfort, one-sided(?) pining, maybe ooc? wc - 1.6k

--a/n: rghhh ratio. i have no clue how to write for this man.

the intelligentsia guild. a branch of the IPC that focused on it's praised academics.

distinguished scholars worked alongside the up and comings, building their reputations to start a proper career in their respective fields. it was no surprise that the guild was full of all kinds of people from every different walk of life imaginable. ratio was one of such.

although a key difference between him and the rest of his colleagues was that this was his second choice. the doctor always dreamed of being acknowledged by nous - to feel their piercing gaze and know that in their view, he was worthy of their recognition. he wanted to be a member of ths genius society, the only way was to has that recognition, a one way ticket into the society.

but he wasn't selfish. ratio believed that everyone deserved knowledge, he spread his word through his lectures and publications - ensuring that others had the capacity to be something other than half-witted. he was prideful in his knowledge, but not to the extent to be considered arrogant. not enough to be recognised - some may disagree but even ratio couldn't help but be slightly arrogant or impatient around those that couldn't comprehend him.

he wasn't a scholar that worked for petty pride, and so nous wouldn't even spare him one glance. blocked from joining the genius society, ratio turned to the next best thing. the intelligentsia guild. an organisation that's entry requirement wasn't the acknowledgement of an aeon. accepting the second best was a constant reminder to him, everyday when he arrived at the guild, he would be reminded of his failure.

it would have to do however. his goals didn't align with that of the aeon he desperately craved the attention of, sooner or later ratio would have to come to terms with this.

but is holding on easier than letting go?

---✩

you and veritas were colleagues.

he was your first ever research partner at the guild - you don't think the looks of pity on your other colleagues faces when it was announced that you and ratio would be working together. surely this “dr ratio” wasn't that bad?

well in some way you'd been right. ratio clearly lived up to his prestigious reputation but very quickly you learnt just why most people preferred to not work with him. he didn't exactly want to work with anyone there anyway, but the guild's main leaders were fed up with him refusing.

to his credit, ratio was incredibly credible and pulled his weight with the research. it was less surprising that the project was practically completed in no time than the fact that you and ratio were compatible research partners.

they still felt pity toward you, the likelihood being that you were now the fallback for ratio's research partner - a fate that they wouldn't wish upon you.

the only issue with ratio was that he could be rather stuck in his ways. most often he believed that he was the correct one, even if you reached the same conclusion but through your own credited means, he would strongly insist that his way was superior.

sure there were other minor things that could make the scholar rather unbearable to work with but he always made results. that you could respect, but you did have to question if he could do so while still retaining a shred of decency to his colleagues - especially you as his main research partner.

gradually, over time spent mainly as his research partner, you became “close” with ratio. compared to hw he treated other colleagues, you looked like his closest friend. but to him, that couldn't be further from the truth.

in your eyes, he was something slightly closer than a simple colleague. the amount of time you spent with him seemed to justify such an assumption. however, ratio wasn't as chummy. he saw you as a simple colleague, albeit more intelligent than the rest of them, but a colleague nonetheless - a favorite at a stretch.

although it couldn't go unnoticed to both the two of you and other intelligentsia guild members, that you both started naturally drifting toward one another. noticeably more you than him, but curiously he never pushed you away.

mainly it was you talking to him while he worked or focused on whatever else captured his. at first you never minded, instead finding his company somewhat peaceful. but his lack of actual engagement made you feel slightly insecure about always hanging around him.

ratio barely acknowledged you when you were around. eventually you started figuring that he didn't want you around, that you were only inconveniencing him but he was too polite to tell you that directly. his blunt words and seeming lack of genuine interest convinced you so - and not so long after, you stopped talking to him, returning back to a strictly research partner relationship.

it didn't take him long to realize the distance you quickly put between the two of you. ratio wanted to know why. he didn't understand why you suddenly became so absent. but he wouldn't ask. his natural pride wouldn't let him, he was sure enough that it was temporary - perhaps you had become busy and had no spare time, even if it wasn't he was sure you'd come back to him eventually.

the doctor couldn't comprehend the fact that he “cared” for you. that all that time spent as research partners had led to him developing somewhat of a bond with you - it'd never happened before, so why now? and why of all people, was it you?

a newfound realization occurred to him. your distance gave him time to think, time to realize just how much you affected him. and he didn't like it.

to ratio, he didn't understand why he felt that way around you. you shouldn't have been any more than a colleague and yet you were becoming more to him. that was a weaknesses. he despised the fact that his brain was betraying him. forcing him to think of you and it made him stop. why did you make him feel this way?

naturally, because of the new distance between the two of you, you grew apart. becoming more like colleagues again rather than close acquaintances. at first, ratio thought it was for the best. you were meant to be a colleague, nothing more.

so why was he longing for your presence?

why did he perk up when he saw you walking toward him just to feel deflated and jealous when you walked straight past him to someone else?

ratio found himself always looking for you in a crowd, just to snap himself out of it when he realized what he was doing. what was wrong with him? the doctor cursed his brain for thinking about you constantly - this wasn't like him, he needed to snap out of it.

but he couldn't. day in and day out, the smallest convenience brought his thoughts back to you and he abhorred it. maybe he should've fought more to stop being assigned a research partner, if he did, you wouldn't be a problem for him.

ratio carried on living in his state of denial, still completely confident that you would return to him at some point and everything would go back to normal. however, the longer he waited the more you practically infected his thoughts.

but he wasn't willing to come to terms with his feelings. it was a useless endeavor to try and comprehend such simple chemical signals in the brain, nothing more. they would go away eventually. ratio just needed to grasp ahold of his brain again. these feelings were only fleeting.

afterall, ratio didn't love you. he didn't even see you as anything more than a colleague. but why did he wish he could?

---✩

ratio paced past a group of guild members but slowed when he picked out your name among their hushed whispers and giggles. one member caught how the doctor slowed and smiled at him.

“i didn't peg you for a gossip enjoyer dr.ratio” his colleague almost giggled

ratio sighed and shook his head, ready to pick up his pace again and leave - why should he care about what your up to anyway. or that was his plan until another member of the gossip group urged him to listen which, he did, his curiosity getting the better of him.

they explained how only moments ago one of your colleagues confessed their love to you - to which you claimed to reciprocate. ratio didn't bother hearing the rest, instead opting to hurry over to the location of the confession with more urgency than ever.

he got there just in time to see you two together.

bitter jealousy bubbled to the front of his mind. it was an ugly emotion that only served to taunt his mistake. it made him ball his fist, nails digging into his palms and a twinge of disgust graced his features. ratio caught himself however, dropping his fists, shoulders slumping and letting his features twist into a sorrowful pain.

he stared almost slack jawed as you walked further away, hand in hand with someone that wasn't him.

and for the first time, ratio felt stupid.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

#↦❣letters to the one i loved ❣#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader #x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #dr ratio x reader #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #hsr dr ratio #hsr ratio

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feex · 6 months ago

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SWANSEA AND DAISUKE

Au where they survived.

There was only one conversation they’d have where Daisuke would open up a little, after the incident leaving him unable to work for himself and now in constant care by his mother it left Daisuke feeling useless and his worry of being worthless was not helping with this. the constant anxiety he felt and embarrassment, he should’ve been in college or have a job that would give him minimum wage. better than whatever state he is in right now, Daisuke never blamed Swansea for what he did to him. He only felt guilty for having been so much trouble, Jimmy had convinced him to go into the vents when directly told of the consequences of what would happen. so why did he do it? Swansea felt as if he had no other choice is what Daisuke would tell himself. He was in the way and caused problems, Daisuke felt even more ashamed after finally knowing what happened to Swansea.

Swansea wouldn’t have felt the need to hurt Jimmy if Daisuke just stayed away from the vents, but he never listened.

Daisuke just wanted the crew to believe he was worthy to be onboard with them, did they really think he wouldn’t notice the weird looks and shifts in attitude whenever he was around? He didn’t ask to be there yet they made him feel like he was just a bother. Everything he ever did was to get their validation.

Swansea only felt disappointed and slightly sympathetic to the younger male, he could understand how he felt on some level. Swansea was always a working man and put himself to work, thats why he was constantly coming back to the pony express. without work Swansea would only be reminded of how limited his talents are, he could fix things and he was knowledgeable about mechanics and such but would that get him anywhere with all of his issues? Swansea relied on the bottle to cope, theres no way a job would let him in. he felt guilty too, he had a wife and kids which should’ve made him feel better but bad habits die hard.

He never wanted Daisuke to end up like him, only putting himself deeper into trouble but Swansea was responsible for why Daisuke was like this. He wasn’t numb to his own emotions, it’s not like the thought of him potentially ruining Daisukes life didn’t haunt him constantly, Swansea had told Daisuke to never end up like him but it seemed that he was only going down one narrow path where it seemed hopeless. no amount of support nor love could ever pull either of them out of this hole they both feel stuck inside of.

They were merely parallels of each-other in a way.

check out my tiktok!! > https://www.tiktok.com/@lazyforever_?_t=8s6QP2I5VEm&_r=1

#mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #young artist #artists on tumblr #art #mini comic #alternate universe

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gds-daisy · 4 days ago

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track 3: BANG BANG BANG

part 3 of made (atties version)

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!jiyong, sub!reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, teasing, praise, dirty talk, pet names, angst, friends to lovers, cheating.

a/n: i am so honored to be part of this collab with some of my lovely writer friends so i hope you guys enjoy the fic! also, the end is fluffy which is unexpected especially since i was assigned bang bang bang, but i didn't want to throw away the entire plot so please don't kill me yall

Tonight was supposed to be a distraction from reality…more specifically from your boyfriend, Jake.

He had been acting like a dick all week and you didn’t know what his deal was. The two of you were supposed to go on a date tonight that had been planned weeks back, but he was already 15 minutes late. Maybe he had gotten stuck in traffic or maybe he was still getting ready. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? Wrong.

When another agonizing 10 minutes passed by, you knew something was up. Sure he was sometimes late when it came to picking you up, but he never blew you off entirely. This was unlike him, that much you knew for sure. That’s why you had sent him a chain of texts to make sure everything was okay.

“let me know if you’re running late”

“how far away are you?”

“did you forget about our date?”

“hello?”

Nothing. Not a word.

Okay fair enough. Maybe he really was on his way and couldn’t text you back. After all, he had to be careful while driving so he wouldn’t get into a car accident or any other serious situation that would prevent him from not being able to make it to your apartment. Perhaps calling him would be a better alternative.

As you pressed on the phone icon next to his contact, you could feel yourself become more worried. The trilling sound that came from the phone was practically mocking you. Just as you were about to hang up entirely upon the second to last ring, the trilling stops entirely.

“Hello?” Jake answers groggily.

“Hey! Are you on your way? I mean it's already 7:30 and you were supposed to be here about 25 minutes ago,” you remind him, trying not to get so worked up so quickly.

“Shit that was tonight?” he asks as if it’s the first time he’s hearing about this.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you say with a frustrated look on your face as your hand finds its way to your forehead, now rubbing away at your temples.

“Look I’m so-” he starts to say but just before he can finish, he’s cut off by a feminine voice in the background.

“You can join me in the shower if you’d like, baby,” you hear the voice say.

And just like that, you felt your heart sink within a matter of seconds of hearing those words. You didn’t know if your ears were playing a cruel joke on you when you heard the pet name escape the girl’s lips on the other line. No. It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream…a really fucked up dream. What you just heard wasn’t a misunderstanding, but you desperately wanted it to be more than anything. Sure, he had been an asshole to you sometimes, but this? This was a new low even for him. This was the same man who told you that he wanted you and only you forever…the same man who had told you not even three weeks ago that he wanted to marry you one day. But he was also the same man who had just made you look like an idiot. God, how could you be so damn blind? Now it all made sense…the way he had been distancing himself lately, the way he stopped complimenting you, the way he started giving you less than the bare minimum. You had cried over him so many times when he treated you like shit but would always want to be in his company whenever you had those crying episodes. It made no sense whatsoever.

That’s when a switch went off in your brain. He would never change. The cycle was constant, especially these past few months. He was constantly making you feel like you were in the wrong for feeling the way you did about certain things he did. It seemed like no matter how many times you told him how you felt about his unacceptable behavior, the more he would indulge in it. Not only did your sadness build up these past few months, but so did your anger. You couldn’t even count how many times you had gone to bed angry at him while he didn’t have a care in the world about how you felt. The next part of the cycle was you begging for the two of you to fix things. You hated begging for the bare minimum, and it was starting to get draining. As much as you always wanted to resolve issues whenever they arose, it was starting to be a more common occurrence than not. You were done.

“Don’t you dare even try to explain yourself,” you seethed with venom that was practically dripping from your voice.

“Baby please! It was a stupid mistake!” he pleads.

“The only stupid mistake made here was me wasting so much time on you,” you angrily say before hanging up on him entirely, not letting him have the last word for once.

You still couldn’t believe it had come to this. It was just too much to take in. On one hand you felt angrier than all hell, but on the other hand, you were in mourning. The guy you had once known was now just a stranger. A ghost of his former self. You should’ve seen this coming especially with all the telltale signs being right in front of your face, but like an idiot–you had chosen to ignore them even when it didn’t serve your best interests at heart. You had fallen for his whole “I-want-to-change-just-for-you” act. Hell, you were even an investor.

The anger and sorrow were now plaguing your mind and heart. You couldn’t take it. You needed a distraction…a healthy one. One that would ease your mind even if it were just for a few hours at most.

That’s how you found yourself at your best friend Jiyong’s apartment for an early in the week movie night.

Jiyong and you had been best friends for years. You guys met at YG Entertainment when both of your groups were preparing for their respective debuts in the music industry. To say that period of your life was stressful would be the understatement of the century. It was filled with dance lessons and vocal practices that would drag into the long hours of the night. But that's what brought you and Jiyong closer together. Both of you shared the same experiences which brought great comfort to one another. Before you knew it, you had started hanging out with him outside of the walls of YG Entertainment. Whether it was a laughter filled movie night on his couch or a night out on the town, you always had a fun time with Jiyong.

There was something about it that made it so special. Maybe it was the fact that you could be yourself around him or the fact that you guys were always able to find new movies to watch, even if they turned out to be god awful. It also gave you something to look forward to each week, especially if it was a rough week. It was the only sense of normalcy you had ever known.

“We’ve got options tonight!” you hear Jiyong say from the hall before entering his room.

“I swear to god if you suggest The Human Centipede again, I will kill you myself Kwon Jiyong,” you warn, loud enough for him to hear.

“You know I was joking!” he responds back.

“Mhm sure you were, Ji,” you say with a scoff. “Now tell me what your brilliant mind has come up with this week”

“I was thinking we could watch either Scream, The Conjuring, or Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he suggests.

“Wow Ji, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” you say with a laugh, no malice behind it.

“And I’m almost offended…now pick,” Jiyong says.

“Let’s go with Scream…can’t go wrong with Skeet Ulrich. I mean have you seen that man?” you ask him rhetorically, a smile now spread across your face. If you weren’t completely caught up in your laughter, you would’ve noticed the look of disappointment that had taken over Jiyong’s once calm face. He knew it was stupid to be upset about, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that way. Jiyong knew he probably wasn’t your type, which always left a pit in his stomach. I mean for god's sake; he was in love with you. How could he not be? You made him feel like he mattered when nothing else did. You were his confidant, his support system, and most of all—the woman he loved. He hated feeling this hopeless. He had fame, money, and you…but not in the way he wanted. He wanted all of you, but he knew he never would be able to so what was the point of telling you at all?

Shaking off his thoughts, he put all his focus back into the present moment. “Alright let’s get this movie night started!” he says, hoping it seemed enthusiastic enough to you so you wouldn’t suspect that anything was wrong. When you didn’t respond, he almost felt relieved. He let out a sigh before he drew his eyes to the screen and dug his hand into the bowl of popcorn, hoping the movie would distract him from this fucked up reality.

The final act of the movie had you on the edge of the sofa. All hell had broken loose as Skeet Ulrich’s character Billy was revealed to be the killer when he shot Randy and sent him flying through the table. The sound of the gun going off scared you half to death and made you jump backwards into Jiyong’s arms. His arms cradled yours in response and looked at you to make sure you were alright. “Are you okay?” he softly asks, the sound of the movie becoming nothing more than pure background noise.

“No! He just shot Randy!” you let out melodramatically.

“I totally saw that one coming…I mean how could you trust a guy with greasy hair like that?” he scoffs. All you could do was playfully slap his arm in response. “I really thought he was innocent, not to mention he betrayed Sidney too,” you pout.

“So, are you Team Randy or Team Billy then?” he asks out of curiosity.

“I have no idea, Ji. I mean Billy’s hot, and Randy is sweet and geeky. It’s hard to choose. What about you?”

“I would have to say I’m Team Randy here,” he says without hesitation.

“And why’s that?” you ask teasingly, eager to hear his reasoning.

“Well Randy is kind of an underdog…I mean think about it. He’s the shy and nerdy comedic relief and he seemed to really care about Sidney…not to mention that his hair is actually clean,” Jiyong explains.

“Kwon Jiyong, you softie!” you say as your mouth falls agape from his shocking response.

“If I'm a softie, then you're a scaredy cat for jumping at that gunshot," he mocks.

“You know what? I take back what I said. You’re just an asshole,” you say jokingly, now pulling your body away from his.

“I’m so mean I know…” Jiyong trails, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes simultaneously.

“C'mon let’s get back to the movie! We’re missing all the good parts!” you groaned.

And with that, both of your guys’ eyes returned to the screen, anticipating the rest of the movie.

As the end credits rolled onto the screen of Jiyong’s TV, the both of you sat there in shock, unsure of how to feel about everything that had just happened within the last quarter of the movie.

“Holy shit…I did not see any of that coming…did you?” you ask him, still dumbfounded and trying to collect your thoughts.

“I knew that Stu was probably gonna be the second killer anyway, but I did not expect Gale and Dewey to still be kicking,” he shares.

“Right?! I thought Gale was a goner when she wrapped her car around that tree,” you let out with a laugh.

“Plot armor at its finest, I’m telling ya,” Jiyong laughs back with a smile entrapping his face. “I’m still mad Randy didn’t get with Sidney; I will admit that.” he adds on.

“I mean to be fair look what she just went through…Billy was a damn psychopath,” you chuckle softly.

“I think we both know another psychopath boyfriend,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear, earning him an unreadable facial expression.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct him.

“Does he know that?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure I made my message loud and clear,” you clarify with a laugh.

“Good. That asshole deserves to have his ass handed to him after what he did to you,” Jiyong says defensively.

Jiyong knew he shouldn’t be acting like this, but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing you upset whenever you told him the newest thing your now-ex had done to make you cry. He had been there for all of it even when you wanted to shut everybody out in the process. In his eyes, you were the best thing to ever exist. You were his entire world even if he wasn’t yours. You made him better.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, Ji,” you say, sounding more bashful than ever as a pink tint takes over your cheeks.

“No, I'm saying that because I love you!” Jiyong suddenly blurts out before he can even comprehend what he just said.

Within a blink of an eye, the room fell silent. The two of you could only stare in shock as the both of you were trying to process what the hell just happened. Jiyong couldn’t believe himself. He had just confessed his feelings for you when he didn’t even mean to. It was just as shocking to you, maybe even more. This was the second time today where you felt like your ears were deceiving you. There was no way this was happening.

“You what?” you ask still in disbelief. You needed to know for sure.

“I love you…I always have,” he confesses with raw passion. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you how I felt. It was eating me alive…consuming me.”

So, this was real. This wasn’t the universe playing tricks on you. All of it was authentic. You could tell from the way the words fell from his mouth…the same way his song lyrics sounded. They were also full of longing and soft passion. It all made sense now.

“Please say something…anything. I just need to know what you’re thinking,” Jiyong pleads softly.

“I think I love you too Ji,” you admit, the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I think somewhere along the way I fell for you even if I didn’t want to admit it. I felt so ashamed especially since I was still dating him,” you let out.

“He never deserved a girl like you,” he says, almost sounding a bit harsh. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find his words to be attractive. Hell, you didn’t even realize your thighs were now clenched together as a result of his words. With each passing second, you were becoming more aware of the aching pain that resided in between your legs. You had enough.

“Ji…if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to god…” you trailed, your voice laced with both neediness and lust.

That was all he needed.

Within seconds, his lips attacked yours and all you could do was fall deeper into the kiss like it was some sort of magnetizing trance. You knew you should pull away, tell him to stop, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. It felt right. The kiss was one of desire but also longing. You had been wanting to do this for ages, ever since your relationship was on a downward spiral. Your ex wasn’t the one comforting you after a bad day. Jiyong was. Your ex wasn’t the one who helped you pick up the pieces after a mental breakdown. Jiyong did. It was all Jiyong. How you couldn’t see that sooner was beyond you, but you didn’t care about any of that when your lips were currently locked with Jiyong’s with no sign of stopping.

His hands slowly trail down your body before they take their final resting place at your hips. The contact was one sparked by greed but also angst. As for your hands, they were now cradling his face like the crane of a claw machine. You could feel how desperate the kiss had become with his tongue now practically down your throat, almost like he was trying to prove something. He wanted you and only you.

Your bodies are practically flush against each other at this point, so much so that you can feel his clothed hard on through the material of your pajama pants. Just feeling it against your clothed heat was enough for you to become embarrassingly wet. You were never so needy before tonight. Your ex never knew what turned you on, let alone try to even learn what you were into. Every time the two of you slept together, it had ended with you feeling unfulfilled and dirty. Hell, he never even gave you an orgasm. Not even once.

“Ji…I need you,” you let out against his soft lips.

“I need you more,” Jiyong says with raw desire.

“Then take me,” you challenge, your hand now brushing against the tent in his pants which makes him buck directly into your hand.

“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart…” he warns with no real threat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you innocently say as you plaster a shit eating grin across your angelic face while still palming him through his pants.

That was it.

Before you knew it, your legs were now straddling his lap with a cobra like vice. His hands found their way to your hips before making you rock back and forth on his lap. You could practically feel his erection brushing away at your now needy cunt, almost like he wanted to tease you for the little stunt you had just pulled. “Now do you see what I’m talking about, baby?” Jiyong asks bluntly. He doesn’t stop there, no. His pace quickens just the tiniest bit, but it proves to be enough to have you moaning into his mouth which earns a smile from him. “You’re making it so hard to be gentle with you…” he warns.

“Who said I wanted you to be gentle?” you say mischievously.

Oh my god. You were going to kill this man.

It was like an invisible yet existent switch went off in him that made him crave you even more than he already did. Suddenly his lips draw themselves away from your mouth before they attack your lips. He starts harshly sucking away at the supple skin, which only makes your head tilt back in response. You knew that hickeys were inevitable with the way he was nipping at your neck with his warm mouth, which was slowly making its way towards your collarbone. He decides to strip you of your shirt in the process, now sliding it over your head before discarding the fabric to the floor entirely. Jiyong’s brown eyes are introduced to the sight of your perky tits, which makes him feel like he could come untouched any second now. He doesn’t waste anymore time before laying you down on the bed and pulling himself off of you to strip himself of the clothes that made him feel like he was being suffocated.

Once he’s down to wearing absolutely nothing, he gets back on top of you and immediately latches his mouth onto your pebbled areola. He drags the sensitive skin with his teeth, making you gasp in response. “Fuck you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen…everything about you is perfect,” he mutters softly while still sucking away at your nipple. “These are fucking perfect,” he groans.

He switches over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment he gave the other one. This time however, he sucks even harder at the skin with the intention of leaving a trail of hickeys that would later be littered all over your exposed chest.

“You want me, jagi?” he mumbles both confidently and teasingly against the nape of your collarbones.

“More than anything…” you plead almost sounding pathetic as you did so.

“Let’s see how true that is then,” he teases. You were confused by his words at first. That was until he slowly slid his hand down your plaid pajama pants, earning an airy gasp from you. His fingers run over the lace fabric of your panties only for them to trace the now wet spot that had formed. “You’re drenched f’me and I’ve barely even touched you…poor thing,” Jiyong tuts. “Wonder what I would find if I just…” he continues before experimentally sliding two fingers inside your panties, slowly rubbing away at your clothed cunt with his fingers.

“Need more…please…” are the only words you manage to get out at this moment.

“Only since you asked so nicely…gotta get you ready f’me anyway,” Jiyong says with a pleased look on his face. He gets off of you for a second so he could properly discard your pants. Once he does so, he brings his fingers back to your heat and continues rubbing away at your heat, all while keeping a steady pace. He didn’t even have to pull his hand out of your panties to know that his fingers were already drenched with your slick and creamy arousal. Jiyong decides to take it one step further and slides two fingers inside your tight cunt as a way to gauge a reaction from you. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades which only encourages him to set a quicker pace. He manages to curl his fingers just right and finds that sweet spot deep inside you that even you didn’t know existed. All you knew was that it had you rutting your hips upward in an attempt to gain more friction. “Such a good girl…taking my fingers so well,” he praises.

Jiyong knew his words got to both you and your cunt went he felt you tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t help but flash a cocky grin at this fact. It was also a telltale sign that you were close to reaching your high, which Jiyong wanted to give to you more than anything. “Cum on my fingers baby…I know you want to,” he coos into your ear, practically encouraging you to do so. With a few more harsh thrusts of his fingers, you finally came undone, your release creating a sticky mess on his fingers. Jiyong continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm, making sure you were fully satisfied.

Once you finally come down from the mind shattering orgasm he had given you, he pulls his fingers out of you just as fast as he did when he first inserted them inside you. You laid there panting as you tried to catch your breath after what had just gone down. While you were doing so, you see Jiyong insert his fingers into his mouth, now getting a taste of your sweet release. He closed his eyes as he relished the taste that had taken over his mouth. He knew one thing for sure. He wanted more–no. He needed more.

“You did so well for me…I think that deserves a reward, but only if you want it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says a bit softer this time.

“I’m sure Ji, I promise…just need you,” you confess, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” Jiyong says as he kisses you on the lips once more. “Can I take these off?” he asks, referring to your panties. You nod at his question, which makes him feel more at ease.

Finally receiving permission from you, he slowly strips you of your drenched panties before throwing them onto the bedroom floor. You’re now leaning against the headboard as you anticipate his next move. The thought of it alone was enough for goosebumps to form on your skin. “Open your legs f’me,” he coos to which you comply with. His face is now nestled in between your thighs all while kissing the supple and soft skin. He takes in the sight before him and swore he was in heaven right now. It seemed too good to be true, almost like he was having a surreal wet dream. Just being so close to your bare pussy was enough for the blood in his body to rush directly to his already hard dick. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to devour you.

And with that, he teasingly licks a long stripe against your glistening and aching folds. He lets out a guttural groan as he tastes you. The tip of his tongue disappears as it makes its way inside your core entirely. The sudden intrusion has you tugging at his hair for support, which only eggs him on further. You could feel every flick of his tongue as it brushed against your swollen clit ever so skillfully. It was as if devouring your cunt and taking in the smell of you were the only things keeping Jiyong alive in this moment. He was a man starved and now here you were–all sprawled out for him on his bed and squirming with each stroke of his tongue as it lapped away at your poor little pussy. Even the sound of your juices being extracted with his tongue was music to his ears.

“Just like that!” you exclaim with a pornographic moan, now grinding against his face in order to gain more friction. Jiyong’s tongue continues to assault your cunt at the pace he had previously set. He was getting drunk on your pussy already, but he didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck jagi…tastes so sweet,” he garbled, his mouth still flush against your warm flesh. Suddenly, you felt him sucking away at the lips of your labia, almost as if he was trying to make out with your pussy entirely. You wouldn’t be wrong. Your cunt was the best thing he ever tasted in his life and he would gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it. Jiyong violently started shaking his head in an attempt to lick up all your juices that were smeared against your delicious cunt. The sensation of his tongue dragging up and down your sore folds had you curling your toes in response.

You didn’t know if it was because of how sensitive your last orgasm had left you or not, but you could feel a coil start to form within the walls of your tummy, the pressure becoming too much to bear. Nevertheless, Jiyong could feel how clenched your pussy had become for him while his mouth was still consuming you.

“I’m gonna cum Ji!” you moan ever so pathetically.

“Come on aein, give it to me…make a mess all over my face,” he softly orders you. “Show how good of a girl you can be.” With a few more flicks of his tongue, your second orgasm of the night hits you like a freight train, your release now covering his gorgeous face. His tongue works you through your orgasm by lapping away at any remaining juices that may have escaped his tongue the first time around. He finally pulls away from your heat before wiping his chin with his fingers. After doing so, he makes sure to slide his fingers into his mouth before cleaning them entirely, not letting a single drop go to waste.

After laying on the bed motionless for a hot second, you somehow muster the strength to sit up straight and get close enough to Jiyong until your lips are practically brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper seductively, but also with a hint of vulnerability.

“Is that so?” he implores, awaiting whatever answer you would give him.

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“I think we can arrange that,” he says before he connects his lips with yours and positions the two of you flush against one another, now laying down on the bed. You can feel how hard his erection is against your bare and exposed pussy. His cock is practically brushing against your drenched folds and it’s agonizing.

“Please…need your cock inside me…can’t wait any longer,” you beg out of impatience.

“How do you want it? You want it slow or fast, angel?” Jiyong asks you.

“I want it fast,” you claim.

“Okay baby, it might hurt at first. Just let me know if you want to stop at all and I will. Your pleasure is just as important as mine,” he says, placing a peck on your lips.

Before you know it, he slides his cock into you all at once, giving you almost no time to adjust to his size. The stretch was one that burned, but also felt so fucking delicious. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and he hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Ready jagi?” he asks with a grin on his face. You nodded at his words, which was the only green light he needed. He had immediately started thrusting into your tight hole at an ungodly pace, one that made a string of moans expel from your plush lips. Your hips were grinding against his, which made it easier for his cock to brush your g-spot in a way that Jake never did. “Fuck baby…you feel so good squeezing me so tight like this…bet he never fucked you the way you deserved, hm?” he asks mockingly.

“N-no he didn’t,” you cry out as his cock continued to pummel into your abused cunt.

“What a fucking shame…had the most beautiful girl ever and couldn’t please her,” he says in between grunts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as the headboard was practically hitting the thin walls of his bedroom. He didn’t care if the upstairs neighbors could hear the two of you going at it like rabbits in heat. All he was focused on was fucking you like his life depended on it. “But it’s okay baby because your Jiyongie is here to help you.”

“Harder!” you cry out as your eyes screw shut.

Hearing how desperate you were only made Jiyong more turned on. The fact that he was the one making you feel like this. The fact that he got to hear your pleas escape your pretty lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. Just like you wouldn’t.

His thrusts had become more erratic and messy at this point. Both of you could feel his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass perfectly, only adding to the eroticness of it all. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you as he pounded into you with his fat cock.There were so many sensations coursing through your body to the point where it was overstimulating for your brain to process them all. It felt like you were on cloud nine, but in a more exhilarating way that had you gripping at the sheets due to how intense it was.

All of a sudden, you feel yourself clench around his cock once more as he continues his movements. Yeah, you were definitely close.

“I’m gonna cum…oh fuck,” you warn him.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Let go for me…I wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” he says almost in a hushed whisper.

With a few more slams of his hips, you felt a jolt deep inside you, resulting in your third orgasm of the night. The feeling of you gushing all over him propelled him to slam into you a few more times before eventually emptying himself inside you with a groan, all hot and sticky. His movements finally slowed down as the two of you came down from your shared climaxes. Eventually, he pulled out of you and laid down on the opposite side of your body. The two of you were now looking directly into each other's eyes, almost with the intention of staying lost in them forever.

His hand finds its way to your cheek, now cradling it softly with admiration. “You did so well for me…I’m sorry if it was too much,” he apologizes.

“Are you kidding me? That was amazing.” you assure him with a tired smile.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, his voice above a whisper.

“I appreciate it, Ji. I really do. You made me feel so special and cared for,” you say.

“That's because you are special. You’re the most special girl I’ve ever met and will ever meet,” Jiyong replies. “You’re my everything”.

“You’re my everything too…you always have been,” you confess.

“C’mere,” he says while motioning you to come closer with his free hand.

You do as he says and within no time, your lips reunite with his in a slow and tender kiss. Not one filled with lust or greed. Just a pure kiss. The kiss lasts for a few seconds more before Jiyong pulls away.

“I meant what I said earlier…I love you with everything I have,” he says sheepishly.

“And so did I,” you say with a laugh.

Things were finally right.

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @burningheartdetective @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @ttturnitup

#made (attie’s version)#kwon jiyong smut #kwon jiyong #gdragon #gdragon smut #g dragon x reader #g dragon smut #g dragon #bigbang #gdragon x reader #bigbang gdragon

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igotanidea · 11 months ago

Text

All figured out : Jason Todd x reader

Summary: When duties and stuff get in the way of being close so bad he forgets your b-day... Or does he?

***

As of late they barely had time for each other. It was constantly his patrols, his wounds and bleeding, her work and headaches and everything in-between.

You know what they say after all, right? About the mundane everyday stuff killing more relationships than actual fights and heartbreaks. The case when you get so accustomed to being with each other that there’s nothing more to discover and the connection becomes simply boring.

And he didn’t want it.

She neither.

But what was to do when there was always something or someone.

What was to do when they both found themselves drifting apart, too focused on the duties and obligations and that constant train of thoughts, plans and internal anxiety they tried to suppress so hard there was barely any strength for anything else.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?” She raised her head from the couch she dozed off while reading some notes for the upcoming work presentation. “Yeah? What’s wrong? How can I help?” Even in her half-hazy state with a post-it note stuck to her cheek, her first instinct was to sprung into action. And the fact that she missed his concerned face and affection beaming from his eyes did not go unnoticed.

“It’s your birthday today, baby…” Jason sighed, moving closer, crouching next to the couch to be somewhere close to her eye level and squeezing her hands.

“My birthday?” Her tone indicated that she barely recognized what day it was, let alone that the date was anything special “Really? I guess I forgot about that…”

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I’m so sorry-“

“For what?” she tore the note from her cheek, finally meeting his eyes “Hey. Jason, baby. For what?”

“I forgot them too.”

“Well clearly not, if you’re the one reminding me.”

“I don’t have a gift for you.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“It’s not enough.”

“It is enough for me.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Because us talking for more than five minutes might be the first time in weeks.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, me too.” She sighed “this is not just on you Jace. You’re only half of this relationship.”

“Only?” he teased, familiar sparks showing in his eyes

“Oh, here’s that mischief I know you for.” She chuckled leaning her forehead on his in a vulnerable gesture “What happened to us Jay?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t say.”

“And that’s why I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Wait, what? What about the patrol? The missions? The-“ the stream of words coming out of her mouth was cut abruptly as he placed a finger on her lips. “Hey-hmph!”

“Don’t think just because I’ve barely heard your voice lately I’m just going to let you bubble, princess.”

“But-“

“Now, put on you prettiest dress and do not worry your sweet little head about anything else”

“But-“

“If you keep talking I’ll have to silence you in some other way and then we won’t leave this apartment at all. And I’ve already made plans-.”

“In the past thirty seconds?!”

“Yes. Now do you want to ruin my plans for tonight?” he pouted in a child-like manner causing her to let out an involuntary laugh before heading to the bathroom to get ready for whatever scheme he came up with.

***

“A club? Seriously?”

The look of confusion on her face as they pulled at the dancing spot was quite hurtful to him.

“I didn’t even know you could dance.”

“Ouch! Y/n!”

“What?!” she scoffed, “It’s your fault. You never showed that skill.”

“Well here’s a show for your entertainment. Go ahead and enjoy me, making a fool out of myself just to celebrate your bday.”

Jason grabbed her hand, sent a knowing look to the bouncer that just let them pass without any questions and dragged her inside.

“Wait… wait, what is going on here? You know the bouncer at the club? Jason? Jason?! The actual hell- ah!”

The lights went out, she felt his hand slipping from hers and for a second that felt like eternity she was completely alone in the dark.

“Y/N?!” his voice reached her ears though she had no idea where it was coming from and the slight panic started to creep inside. A feeling multiplied when she heard ruffling and some whispers of people who were closing in on her

“Jason?! Where are you!?” Y/N started spinning in the dark, searching for anything solid that would help her cover from whatever danger might be lurking in the dark. “ah!” Her wish became granted sooner than expected when she collided with something hard and out of sheer instinct started punching and hitting the surface.

“Hey! Hey, relax! Relax! It’s me! It’s me, princess.” Familiar touch of hands intensified on hers stopping her from fighting the person that was in fact her only salvation and protection. “It’s me, you’re safe” he pulled her closer, offering comfort and calm.

“What-what happened?” she stuttered “Why did the lights-“

“SURPRISE!”

Before she made her sentence the candles and lights garland got lit and she was greeted with friends and family members standing behind the lavishly set table with a birthday cake smiling and cheering.

“You asshole!” Y/N turned to Jason, resuming to punch and hit him, only that now she could see him and her movements were far more accurate and effective “I could have had a heart attack!”

“Stop it!” Jason laughed, pretending to be scared, grabbing her waist and spinning her in her air, before putting her down and kissing her passionately, not caring about the onlookers of their guests. “Happy birthday.” He muttered against her lips.

“You’re a jerk, you know it?” she responded in a whisper before grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him again, not giving a shit who was looking likewise.

***

“You want to sneak out of here?”

After two hours of celebration, dancing, laughing and stuffing mouths with delicious food, Jason walked to her from behind offering a getaway from everyone. His warm breath followed by a gentle kiss on that soft spot between her neck and shoulder was supposed to convince her, but she was still mad about the trap he set for her.

“Mh. Dunno. You went to such a great length to bring me here and now you want me to leave?” She teased, though her tone was not matched by the action when she tilted head to give him more access to her skin and allowed his hands to wrap around her waist.

“Mhm. Yes. Exactly. Leave with me.” Jason muttered against her skin.

“You're scared you won’t find the way back home?” she smirked and the grip on her body tightened.

“Not If my home stays here….”

“Oh no!” Y/N’s joyful laughter filled the air “Cliché! And cheesy and –“

“You done?” he frowned, not liking the way she was mocking him while he was pouring his heart out.

“Nope. Don’t think so. I can go like this for hours.”

“Y/N—” he growled in a warning she was pushing him to the limits.

“But I suppose if I can do it here, I can also do it when we’re alone-“

“Oh so now you want to be alone with me only to mock me?”

“Mhm.” She grinned. “So what do you say, big boy? Shall we take a French leave?”

“And walk out silently?” Jason grinned and she did not like it at all. “Over my dead body. Again.”

Without warning he lifted her up in the air, and with the most commotion he could cause, carried her away, followed by the cried out wishes of happy birthday and all the best.

He was such a drama queen.

***

“That was fun.” She pointed out when they got back to their little flat

“Only a beginning princess. I haven’t really given you your present yet.” Jason made sure to lock the door, stepping closer to his girlfriend and immediately pulling her closer, caressing her back and kissing her neck.

“You think you know what I want, huh?” She giggled when his lips started to tickle her skin.

“Got you figured all over baby… Know all your soft spots.”

He descended to her collarbone, bending her backwards a little to make it easier. The position forced her to place hands on his shoulders for purchase.

“Are you saying I became so boring and predictable to you?” she teased not stopping him walking her backwards to the bed

“Boring?” he gave her a look over, before sliding her dress upwards, tracing over the exposed thigh “not at all.” Her dress hit the floor, removed overhead. “Predictable? Maybe…”

“Asshole…” soft sight left her lips before getting silenced by another passionate kiss.

“You know I know what you want…”

“Prove it.” Y/N did not waste a second sliding his shirt off too. Once done, she plopped on the bed, facing the ceiling and waiting for his move “Prove you really do know what I want.”

Jason smirked and laid on the bed next to her.

He knew.

He knew better than she wanted to give him credit for.

And that was exactly the reason why at the moment his fingers were running up and down her exposed belly, but never crossing the barrier of her white, innocent panties or bra.

The reason why he did not tear his and her underwear and surrender to passion.

An argument for not going straight into sex.

So many people were confusing intimacy with sex. Simplifying it. While the real connection went far beyond body-to-body contact and carnal pleasure.

Real intimacy did not mean being bare as in shedding the clothes, but exposing oneself emotionally.

And he knew.

They’ve been growing apart for so long and the best gift he could give her was his presence next to her.

Y/N smiled rolling on her side to look into his eyes, their bodies close but never really touching as if the exchanged looks and interlaced fingers were far more valuable.

“How do you like your present?” he smiled softly, playing with her fingers, voice filled with warmth and purest form of affection.

“You really did know.”

“Told you I got you figured. And it’s not really a bad thing now, is it?”

“No. No it’s not. And hey I just figured something –“

“Hm? And what may that sudden discovery be? You missed me perhaps? Or – “ he made a dramatic pause – “don’t tell me you got feelings for me! Ugh! Y/N! Disgusting!”

She laughed.

“Feelings? No way! And how could you dare believe I might have missed your horrible attitude and character!? Are you trying to offend me?!”

“Always.”

“Perhaps I should also thank you for keeping me in check and making sure I don’t become conceited?”

“Happy birthday” he shrugged, pulling her to his chest ruffling her hair on purpose. “And don’t think I love you or something.” The last remark was followed by the kiss on her forehead.

“Me neither, Jason. Me neither-”

It seemed like they got each other figured out after all.

And maybe it was their way of healing and coming together once again.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd smut #red hood smut

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piastrisun · 8 months ago

Text

i know i'd go back to you.

pairings: charles leclerc + fem reader.

summary: the two cross paths again as they realise letting go was what they needed to find their way back to each other.

genre: hurt/comfort.⠀word count: 4.5k.⠀ warning: none.

request: first request!!!!! everyone cheered (me). ty so so much. <3

notes: back to you by selena gomez. when there’s more than one space between paragraphs it means it’s a time jump. i hope it’s not tedious and it's understandable.

PART ONE.⠀ ⠀PART TWO.⠀ ⠀ ALTERNATIVE ENDING?

autumn is just a step away, the crispness of the air hinting at change. it has been almost three months since your relationship with charles came to an end, yet the memory of that night clings to you like the lingering summer heat. time moves forward relentlessly, but you find yourself stuck, your heart unable to catch up with the weeks.

the leaves begin to turn brown, their vibrant hues echoing the transformation stirring within you. new york is everything you imagined it would be—vibrant, chaotic, alive with possibility. the art program consumes your days, each moment pushing you to create, to dig deeper into your passion. but when the city finally quiets down at night, that familiar ache returns. you think of him. even though leaving was the right choice, part of you wonders if you’ll ever feel completely whole again.

your small flat in brooklyn is a world away from the life you had with him in monaco. it’s yours, it’s freeing. it offered you a fresh start, a chance to rediscover who you are outside of the life you are used to. but even in the midst of pursuing your dreams, there’s a void. you’ve been in touch with all you family ever since you left, they say this heartache is normal, that healing is part of the process. but as the weeks turn into months, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re waiting for something—though you’re not sure what. maybe it’s an apology, a sign from the universe, or even a call from him. the silence between you remains unbroken, thick and impenetrable. and while you never ask them directly about charles, you know most of them can sense what’s going on beneath the surface. especially friends in common, they always seems to know.

however, most of your time there has been incredible, a dream come true in so many ways. you learned things you wouldn’t have in home, met so many wonderful people, and a new world so full of life. maybe this program, this city, was what you needed to find yourself, but did it mean losing him forever? you thought the decision to leave everything would give you clarity. that it would finally help you breathe again, and it does. but also creates a different kind of weight, pulling at your chest whenever you think about what could have been, about the life you envisioned together.

meanwhile, charles wakes up to another empty morning in his flat, a space that once buzzed with shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the small comforts of your presence. now, there’s only silence. he moves through his routine on autopilot, each action reminding him of your absence. he never told you to leave—never wanted you to—but he knows his choices, the way he let life pull him away from you, drove you to walk out the door. the guilt hangs heavy, like a shadow he can’t shake. since you left, everything feels hollow to him. he goes to work, travels for races, puts on the show the world expects of him, but inside, he’s always thinking of you. of the last look you gave him, the hurt in your eyes. he wishes he could go back, say the things he didn’t, fix the cracks that were already starting to show.

the apartment is a constant reminder. your favorite books are still on the shelf, your art supplies untouched, like some part of him hopes you’ll walk back in and pick up where you left off. but he knows better. he knows he failed you. he knows he has to apologise. you needed space to grow, to explore your art, and he, without realizing it, held you back.

in a desperate attempt to make things right, he searches for ways to show he understands. he wants you to know that if you decide to come back, he’s ready to be the person you needed all along. though he’s unsure if you will return, he clings to that hope. maybe one day, he’ll find your way back to you. he’ll always go back to you.

the knock at your door startles you, pulling you away from the last-minute packing for your evening out with some friends from the art program. it’s a celebratory dinner, a chance to mark the end of an era before possibly returning to monaco. you weren’t expecting anyone, but when you open the door, the last person you imagine seeing is arthur, charles’ younger brother. he stands there, his posture tense, his eyes filled with a seriousness you’ve rarely seen from him. his presence instantly shifts the atmosphere, and the excitement of your evening fades. this was something serious.

“hey,” he says, cutting off your attempt to greet him, and stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, as if the urgency of his visit is enough reason to intrude. “i know this is unexpected. and i’m not here to pry, believe me.” he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a plane ticket and placing it in your hand. “this is your way back. you need to go home.”

you blink down at the ticket, heart stuttering in your chest. “what—what is this?” you start, but arthur keeps talking, his voice calm with conviction.

“you and charles are meant to be together. i’ve never seen two people more right for each other than you two.”

you blink in shock, staring down at the ticket in your hands. “wait…”

you open your mouth to protest, but arthur cuts you off again. “look, he’s been a mess without you. he won’t say it, probably doesn’t even know how to. he doesn’t want to hold you back again. not after everything.” his voice softens, eyes searching yours for a flicker of understanding. “i don’t know if coming back is what you have in mind, but if it is, just consider what i said.”

“does he know you’re here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

arthur shakes his head. “no. and i’m not planning on telling him. this isn’t for him, not entirely. it’s for you, too,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “i know you’ve found something here, and i’m not saying you should give it up. but if there’s a part of you that still loves him—” his voice lowers, “and i know there is—you should go back. it’s not something you can just walk away from. not forever.”

his words hit harder than you expected, leaving you standing there, speechless. arthur knows you nearly as well as charles does, and he’s never been one to get involved unless he truly believed it was necessary. and here he was, standing in your tiny flat in new york, asking you to come home. your time on the other side of the world has been everything, but you can’t deny his words. you don’t want to abandon what you’ve built here, but you also can’t avoid the thought of charles, waiting for you, even if he hasn’t said a word.

arthur’s voice is softer now, almost pleading. “just think about it. you’re doing amazing things here, i know. but are you really happy without him?”

you look up at him, emotions swirling, and for a moment, all the memories of charles come rushing back—his laugh, the way he used to look at you when you talked about your future together, his bright eyes, the warmth of those moments, and the plans of the wedding that never happened. the ticket feels heavier than it should.

arthur gives you a small, understanding smile, sensing your hesitation. “don’t wait too long, alright?”

for days, the plane ticket sits on your bedside table, untouched, as you try to avoid the decision in front of you. everywhere you go in new york reminds you of him—his voice, his presence, as if he’s been a part of this city with you all along. you wonder what he’s doing, if he’s thought about you, and what would happen if you went back.

the night before your flight is scheduled, you stand by your window, staring at the skyline, trying to convince yourself that staying is the right choice. the city has given you so much, but your heart still belongs to monaco—belongs to him. the pull toward him is stronger than you can ignore. in the quiet hours of the morning, something shifts. without thinking too much, you grab your suitcase, the ticket in hand, and head to the airport. your heart pounds in your chest as you board the plane, unsure of what’s waiting for you on the other side.

when the plane lands, the air feels different—heavier, somehow. but the familiarity settles around you. after checking into a hotel, you debate calling him, texting him, but something stops you. it’s not your turn to make the first move this time. instead, you send a quick message to arthur, letting him know you’ve arrived. his response is immediate: you did the right thing. but what if it wasn’t? what if charles isn’t home? what if he’s moved on? what if he doesn’t want to see you at all?

days pass, and you intentionally steer clear of the familiar spots that once felt like home. each corner brings a rush of nostalgia, a reminder of the life you built together. the park bench where you’d spent lazy afternoons in each other’s company, the part of the town in which he proposed—each place holds memories that now feel too heavy to bear. you feel like a ghost in a city that should feel welcoming, yet instead feels foreign and haunting. the sun sets and rises, but you remain in a haze, caught between your desire for freedom and the pull of the love you left behind. you stroll along the waterfront, watching the yachts bob gently in the harbor, their beauty stark against the turmoil inside you.

then, fate, or whatever it is, intervenes. you catch sight of charles in the distance, at the café you were going to get into, the one both used to love, the one you were about the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the warmth of sunlight streaming through the large windows, casting a golden glow that feels almost magical. as you step inside, a wave of nostalgia washes over you, but it quickly gives way to something sharper. your heart races the moment your eyes meet his across the room. he freezes, surprise evident on his face, clearly unaware you were back in town. his expression shifts from shock to something more vulnerable.

a whirlwind of emotions surges within you—excitement, fear, and a deep-seated ache pulling you toward him even as your mind races with uncertainty. yet, the familiarity of it all wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

he stands there, momentarily rooted in place, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel the months and emotions that have drifted between you. in that split second, memories flood back with stunning clarity: the late nights spent talking until dawn, sharing dreams that felt boundless, the whispered promises of forever.

charles swallows hard, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he takes a hesitant step closer. “hey, you’re back,” his voice is gentle, almost hesitant, as though he’s not sure if you’re really standing there in front of him. his shoulders relax, but his eyes remain locked on yours.

you offer a small smile, trying to steady the rush of emotions rising in your chest. “yeah. summer’s over, so it’s not that unexpected.” you let out a soft laugh, an attempt to bring lightness into the conversation, to ease the weight that’s hung between you both since the moment you parted. he chuckles, a sound you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit. it feels like home. “sorry, terrible joke. how have you been?” you ask, curiosity and nervousness intertwining in your voice.

charles tilts his head slightly, his expression softening as he mirrors your question. “do you want the truth, the lie, or a vague answer?” his lips curve into that playful smile you remember so well, the one that used to make your heart skip a beat. you nod, the tension easing as you laugh softly, choosing the third option to keep things light. “i’ve been… okay, trying to figure things out.” he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering for a moment, as though buying himself time. his eyes flicker with a thousand unsaid words before he asks, “you? how was your summer?”

you swallow, a mix of pride and hesitation bubbling inside you. “it was good, actually. i painted a lot and explored some really cool places.” there’s a pause, a slight hitch in your breath before you add, “could’ve been better, though.”

his brows knit together, curiosity tugging at him. “why?” his voice is genuine, concern etched into the way he looks at you, unaware of the depth behind your words.

but before you can answer, you both step forward, the line moving as the barista glances your way. his attention shifts for a moment, but not before his gaze lingers on you, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“i’ll have the usual,” charles says, stepping up to order. his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth to it. “two americanos, one with almond milk, and a blueberry scone, right?”

your heart swells with unexpected emotion, the simplicity of the gesture somehow making your breath catch. “you got it,” you whisper, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. he turns toward you, his smile quiet; he could never forget your picks. you try to hand him the money for your coffee, but he pushes your hand softly back to you, what he usually does to avoid letting you pay anything.

you both fall into silence as you wait for your coffees, the air between you thick with unsaid words. it’s familiar and yet uncharted at the same time, like returning to a place you know by heart but with the awareness that everything has changed.

when the drinks arrive, charles hands you yours, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment—a spark, a connection that neither of you can deny.

“can we talk?” his voice breaks the silence as you step out of the café, the bustling streets surrounding you, but it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

“yeah, sure,” you nod, bracing yourself for whatever comes next, though your heart has already begun to race. you walk side by side, your steps falling into a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. he glances at you, his gaze soft, almost vulnerable.

“i’ve missed you,” he admits quietly, as though he’s been holding those words inside for too long. you stop, turning to face him, the weight of everything between you hanging in the air.

“yeah, i’ve missed you too,” you say, and it’s the truth. the ache of missing him had never really gone away.

“i’m so sorry for the way things went,” charles continues, his voice low but steady. “i didn’t mean for things to end the way they did. i never wanted to lose you. you were right to do what you did. i see that now.” his hand reaches up, almost instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, the familiar touch sending warmth through you. “i was too caught up in my own world to realise how important your dreams were.”

you look down for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a bittersweet memory. “you didn’t want to lose me, but you pushed me away,” you say, your voice soft but resolute. “i needed to do something for myself, and you made me feel like i had to choose between my art and us. it hurt.”

charles closes his eyes for a brief second, his expression pained. “i know, i’m sorry. i wish i could take it back,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret. “i was hurt, and it’s not an excuse. i should’ve been supportive. i should’ve let you chase your dreams without making you feel like you had to choose. and i should’ve spent my summer break there with you, even if it was just for a month.”

“you should’ve been, yes,” you agree, the truth hanging between you both like a fragile thread. “but it’s okay. you’re apologizing now, and i accept them.”

his relief is palpable. “i would’ve understood if you didn’t. i acted like an idiot,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his laugh. his eyes meet yours one more time. “you’re brilliant. you know that, right?”

a soft smile pulls at your lips, the tension in your chest loosening just slightly. “oh, whatever, charlie. you’ve apologised.”

his laughter comes easily this time, and something inside you softens. the nickname slips out without you realising, but it feels right, like muscle memory.

“what have you been up to since i left?” you ask, the question laced with curiosity, but also a cautious hope.

he hesitates for just a second before the excitement builds in his expression. “about that. i want you to see something,” he says, leading you forward. you follow him without question, your heart racing as you both make your way to his apartment—the one that used to be yours too. a block away from the café, your footsteps fall into a familiar rhythm.

when you reach the building, the air feels thick with memories. his fingers brush against your arm, guiding you in as if nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

“i found an amazing art consultant here,” charles says as you walk through the door. “she can connect you to a lot of artists across europe. i contacted her and showed her some of your work. she loved it.” his voice is filled with excitement, his eyes bright as he watches for your reaction.

your breath catches. “you have to be kidding me,” you say, your heart swelling at the thought of him doing this for you.

“never,” he says softly. “this could be your bridge back into that world.”

as you step into the flat, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. everything is exactly where you left it—the photos, the little trinkets, even the paintings you’d made that still hang on the walls. you feel a warmth in your chest, realizing how much he’s held onto. even if it was just a three-month breakup, it felt like an eternity.

“you still have my things,” you say, a mix of surprise and emotion coloring your voice. “you have everything.”

“why wouldn’t i?” he asks softly, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. he leads you down the hallway, guiding you to a room you hadn’t stepped into for a long time.

“i—” charles pauses at the door, his hand resting on the handle as he inhales deeply. then, with a slow exhale, he opens it. “i cleared out the office and turned it into an art studio,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “in case you came back, even if you didn’t. i wanted you to have a place to create, to feel inspired again.”

you step inside, your breath catching in your throat as you take it all in. the room feels like a dream, filled with all the supplies you’ve ever loved, organised exactly as you would’ve done it yourself. your pieces hang on the walls, even the new ones you had mentioned years ago. and there, on a shelf, is a small drawing he made for you when you first started dating—two figures, you and him, holding hands with the words, ‘i’m so lucky you fell in love with me’ written beneath.

“wow, you really thought about this,” you whisper, your voice soft as you take in the gesture, overwhelmed by the love behind it.

“every day,” charles admits, stepping closer, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve been a mess without you. and you deserve to have everything you ask for, even when you don’t.”

your heart swells, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out: “i’m always going to love you, you know that?”

his eyes widen slightly, but there’s no hesitation when he responds. “i’m always going to love you too,” he says softly, his hand finding yours.

“i want to get back together. i want to do it right,” he adds, his voice steady but filled with hope. “if you take me. i don’t want to rush anything, but i want you to know that i’m here to support you, wherever that takes us. and i’ll do anything for you to trust me again.”

you hold his gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. “no running away,” you say, your heart in your throat. you want this, of course you do. “we have to do things right; it has to be different.” the way things had been left months ago didn't change how you perceived him; nothing ever could. he’s still the person you fell for nearly ten years ago. all you want from him is honesty, a genuine conversation about everything. and he’s finally doing that.

“i won’t,” charles promises, his voice unwavering. he steps closer, gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing your cheek with tender affection. “i promise you. i’m not going anywhere. not again.”

you search his eyes, looking for sincerity, willing yourself to believe him. “you need to mean that, charles. i can’t go through the hurt again. it would destroy me.”

he swallows hard, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. “i do mean it,” he assures you, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. “i’ve missed you too much to let you go again. i’ve been lost, trying to exist in a world that felt incomplete without you. i can’t let that happen again. and i won’t ever disappoint you again.”

you breathe deeply, feeling the truth in his words. “okay,” you murmur softly, allowing the warmth of his touch to pull you closer.

your lips meet his, and suddenly, the world around you disappears. the kiss is slow, yet filled with all the longing and love that had built up during your time apart—two hearts finding their way back to each other. his hands cradle your face as if you were something fragile, and you lean into him, your fingers tangling in his brown hair, the kiss deepening, passionate and full of the promise that this time would be different.

when you finally pull apart, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions. a playful smile tugs at charles’ lips. “so… boyfriend and girlfriend again?” his eyes glimmer with happiness, his grin widening as though he can’t believe this is real.

you laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “oh, no,” you tease, a playful smile spreading across your lips as you brush your hand across his chest. he flinches for a moment, eyes widening in mock alarm, before recognition dawns and a grin breaks through. “we’re getting married, remember? you can’t back out now.”

his laughter fills the room, rich and full, as he leans in to kiss you again, this time gently, his lips brushing yours with sweet tenderness. “even better,” he whispers almost against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his face, the joy in his voice as he kisses you once more; he can’t stop it now. “just want to make sure i’m up to the task of being the best husband ever.”

charles gently pulls even you closer, his arms circling around you in a way that feels both familiar and entirely new. you sink into his embrace, your cheek resting against his chest, where you can feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. the hug feels like coming home. his arms tighten around you, and there’s a tenderness in the way he holds you, as though he’s afraid to let go, afraid you might slip away again.

when you finally pull back just enough to look up at him, there’s a softness in his eyes that mirrors everything you feel. and in that moment, with his arms still around you and the world outside feeling miles away, there’s a sense of relief in the air, a comfort neither of you thought you’d feel again so soon.

“you told someone we called it quits?” you ask, your voice teasing but with a hint of curiosity laced within it.

charles looks down at you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “not exactly… just my family.”

you raise an eyebrow, playfully. “especially arthur, i’m guessing.”

he pauses, his smirk fading into a look of mild confusion, brow furrowing. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone genuinely puzzled, not quite understanding where you’re going with this.

“oh, don’t bother, love,” you say with a knowing smile, your voice teasing. you think of how arthur, and perhaps even a few others, conspired to push you both back together. you’ll share the details with charles eventually, and the image of his reaction makes you smile. you know he’ll laugh, maybe even shed a few happy tears at the gesture.

he narrows his eyes in mock suspicion but decides not to press the issue. instead, his hand gently rubs circles on your back. “okay… but answering your question—everyone else thinks we only postponed the wedding.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and you pull back slightly to look at him. “oh! so you knew we could work it out, huh?”

he flashes a playful grin, the spark in his eyes returning. “sometimes i do know things, you know?”

the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that leaves your stomachs aching a little and your faces flushed with joy. it’s a bright, carefree moment, the kind that had been missing for too long.

as the laughter fades, you rest against him, your head finding its familiar spot on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat steadying your own. he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels like it’s falling into place.

“we’re really doing this again, aren’t we?” you murmur, your voice filled with hope.

“we are,” charles whispers back, his arms tightening around you. “and this time, i’m going to get it right.”

he kisses you again, gently but with all the love he has in his heart. the world outside seems distant, unimportant, as the two of you stand in the stillness of the moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. and as you look up at him, the man who had once made you question everything but who now stands here, ready to give you the world, you know that this time, there’s no more doubt. only love. it’s not just a new beginning—it’s the continuation of something that never truly ended. the end of one chapter and the start of forever.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: one shot #piastrisun: requests #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 driver x reader #charles leclerc x female oc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff

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