#and you’re happy you don’t have to do it but you’re devastated something else will

[im-still-watching-anime]

sasuke: i’m still glad we made up and all but….

naruto: …..but?

sasuke: us killing each other would have been SO romantic

naruto: i was JUST thinking about that—

[kwilquib]

Falling for You, Again.

TripleS Kim Yooyeon x Reader

Switching POV

Word Count: 14.4k+

Kim Yooyeon sat upright in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. It no longer unsettled her the way it once did. She had been here long enough to adjust—to wake up every morning knowing she had lost her memories, knowing that her only grasp on the past came from what others told her.

And what they told her was this:

She was married. She was deeply in love. And her husband, who had been abroad for work, had been devastated when he heard about the accident, even more when he couldn't return immediately. Today—the day of her discharge—she would finally go home.

Her parents had been with her since the beginning, threading her past together with their words. Their voices were steady, unwavering—as if the truth could be spoken into existence.

"You and your husband were so perfect together," her mother gushed, her voice thick with emotion. "Always looking at each other like you were the only two people in the world."

Yooyeon held onto the words, testing them, trying to find something familiar in them.

A flicker of memory surfaced. A formal dinner, the gentle clink of wine glasses, a man’s hand resting on the small of her back as they smiled for photographs. She could almost hear the laughter, but it felt distant, muted—like a scene from someone else’s life.

Her father nodded approvingly. "He's a good man. Responsible, capable. And devoted to you, as any husband should be."

Another fragment—her husband adjusting his tie in their shared bathroom mirror, his reflection catching hers. A quiet familiarity between them, practiced and smooth. She remembered feeling something then—a warmth in her chest, steady and certain.

"You don’t remember?" her mother asked hopefully.

Yooyeon hesitated. Did she? The images were there, but they felt too crisp, too clean—like a story well-told, not a memory truly lived.

"I... I think I do. Little pieces."

Her mother brightened immediately. "See? It’s coming back! I always said true love leaves its mark on the soul, even if the mind forgets."

The words settled over her like a soft weight. True love.

With each story they shared, more pieces seemed to surface. Their first dance at a business gala. Weekend brunches with friends where they finished each other’s sentences. Vacation photos where they looked blissfully happy.

Each memory felt genuine—yet the edges of them blurred, like an oil painting smudged by an impatient hand.

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to be the woman they spoke of, the one who had been so deeply in love.

But wasn’t love supposed to feel more certain than this?

The nurse entered with her discharge papers. "Mrs. Kim, you’re all set to leave. Your husband must be relieved—his wife is finally getting discharged."

His wife.

The words settled into the quiet room, lingering in the air longer than they should have.

She had heard it before—"your husband," "your loving marriage," "you were so happy together." Each time, the words had been spoken with certainty, as if they alone could fill the void in her memory.

But this felt different. Final. Binding.

Her fingers curled around the ring on her left hand. The metal was warm, familiar. She traced its shape, searching for something—anything—that felt like certainty.

She waited for the rush of emotion, the deep-seated knowing. It didn’t come.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “Your husband called while you were resting. He’ll be returning from his work trip this week.”

Yooyeon nodded, ignoring the flutter of something in her chest. Excitement? Anxiety? Or something else entirely?

As the elevator descended to the hospital lobby, her parents chatting excitedly beside her, Yooyeon let herself lean into the stories, into the warmth they promised.

If she reached for the love they spoke of, if she believed hard enough—would it become real?

Today, she was going home.

To them.

And maybe, just maybe, to the love she was supposed to remember.

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

You step into the familiar quiet of your home, and for a moment, it doesn’t feel real.

This place—this moment—was never supposed to happen like this.

You were supposed to come back with a clearer mind, with the weight of your feelings for Yooyeon finally worn down by distance and time. You had convinced yourself that being away, that drowning in work, was the right thing. You had nearly succeeded in quieting the ache of wanting her—of wanting something you were never meant to have.

But then the call came.

The accident. The words you never expected to hear. That she had lost her memories, that she couldn’t remember you.

And suddenly, the distance that was supposed to help you move on became unbearable.

You couldn’t leave. Couldn’t abandon your work, not when this deal had been months in the making. But you couldn’t call her either. You weren’t ready to hear her voice, to confirm with your own ears that she didn’t remember you. Instead, you asked about her indirectly—through doctors, through her parents. Keeping yourself just close enough to know she was okay, but far enough to not face the truth.

Now, you’re home. And for the first time since you left, you can’t avoid her anymore.

She’s in the living room when you step in, arranging flowers—an image so delicate, so carefully composed, that it stops you in your tracks. You never remembered her paying so much attention to things like this before.

“Welcome home,” she says, offering you a small smile. It’s polite, warm even, but there’s something unfamiliar about it. It’s measured, like she’s giving you exactly what she thinks you expect.

It throws you off.

She’s different, and yet—she’s not. She’s not an entirely new person, not a stranger. She’s still Yooyeon, but softened in ways she never was before. Less guarded, less sharp. And it terrifies you how easily she could slip into the version of her you used to dream about—the version that could have loved you back.

You clear your throat, setting down your luggage. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner.”

Her fingers still briefly over the petals. “It’s fine… they told me your trip was important.” Her voice is light, but there’s something beneath it. A hesitation. A quiet disappointment.

Then, softer, almost to herself, “We could’ve at least talked on the phone.”

Your chest tightens. You don’t know if she’s saying it because she wanted to talk to you or because she thinks it’s something she should say.

“How have you been?” you ask, even though you already know. You know what the doctors have said, what her parents have told you. But you need to hear it from her.

She launches into a recounting of her recovery—how she’s been adjusting, how her parents have practically hovered over her. But as she speaks, something feels off. Her words are careful, almost rehearsed, as if she’s reading from a script someone gave her.

And it hits you—she is following a script.

She’s trying to fit into the life everyone says she had. Trying to be the person they tell her she used to be.

The realization unsettles you.

It should be easy to draw the line. You told yourself, over and over, that this marriage had given you nothing but a lingering ache. That whatever warmth you once felt had long since dulled into something muted, tolerable. Maybe this is the clean break you need—the perfect excuse to finally move on without guilt.

But instead, all the walls you’ve built, the callousness you spent months forging, begin to crack.

You watch her—this version of Yooyeon, untouched by old wounds and past hesitations—and wonder.

Is this a curse? Or is this the only chance you’ll ever have to hold onto something that was never truly yours?

Later, over lunch, the air between you still carries an odd tension—not uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. You catch yourself hesitating before speaking, unsure which parts of your shared past she still holds onto and which have slipped through the cracks.

"Do you remember the trip to Busan?" you ask, testing again, reaching for a thread of the past.

Yooyeon blinks, her brows knitting together. "Busan…?"

"The conference," you remind her. "Last year. You spent half the time making fun of that presenter’s slides."

She lets out a small laugh but shakes her head. "I don’t remember that at all. But it does sound like something I’d do."

There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet chuckle from both of you—awkward, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Tell me about it?" she asks, tilting her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "I want to know what kind of person I was."

The question throws you off guard, though you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in her voice, the quiet plea to be filled in on the version of herself that she’s lost.

You hesitate, then exhale softly. "You were—" You stop, correcting yourself. "You are sharp. Witty. You never let anyone get away with nonsense."

She smiles at that, as if it reassures her. "That’s good to hear."

Bit by bit, the stiffness fades.

By evening, it’s different. The space between you, once uncertain, feels smoother, more fluid. It’s not the same as before, but in some ways, it’s easier. Lighter.

Yooyeon touches you more. Small, fleeting gestures—her fingers brushing against yours when she hands you a plate, resting a hand on your wrist when she asks a question, leaning into you slightly when you walk side by side. It’s nothing dramatic, nothing she seems to think twice about. But it’s different.

Before the accident, before the marriage, you thought of Yooyeon as a great friend—someone easy to talk to, someone who made life feel less heavy. When you agreed to the marriage, you thought maybe, just maybe, you were moving toward something more. At first, it seemed like it. The familiarity deepened, your feelings began to take shape, creeping in slowly, almost unnoticed. There were moments—glimpses of what could be—where it felt like the two of you were truly building something together.

But then, it stopped. Or maybe it just never went far enough. She was always there, yet just out of reach. She smiled at you, laughed with you, shared meals with you, but there was always a quiet hesitation in her, an invisible wall she never dared to cross. You wanted more. You wanted to pull her closer, to make her see what you were feeling, but something kept holding you back. Kept holding her back.

Your love for her didn’t fade—it grew. And the more it grew, the more it hurt.

You lived together, spent your days and nights side by side, yet the gap between you remained. A happy marriage, but never quite content. Companions, but never quite lovers.

And now? Now she’s changed. Now, that boundary is gone—not in the way you once wished it would be, but in a way that feels almost unreal. Like something delicate and fleeting, something that shouldn’t be yours to hold.

You don’t comment on it.

You tell yourself it’s just her way of adjusting, of seeking comfort in something familiar.

So you play along.

As the evening drags on, you feel her eyes on you constantly, but there’s no familiar ease to it. No comfort. It’s as if she’s studying you, trying to figure out the person she’s married to, trying to place you into this new reality where you don’t fit. You catch her refilling your water glass before you even ask, adjusting your collar just slightly, even suggesting things she thinks will please you—asking how the trip went, what you did, if you’re tired. Every move she makes feels calculated, like she’s not trying to be the woman you married, but the woman she thinks you expect her to be.

Her actions are all wrapped in politeness and care, but it feels like a performance. You’re a stranger to her now, and she’s just trying to fit the role she believes she has to play.

You can’t help but wonder, does she even know who you are anymore?

After dinner, Yooyeon sets her chopsticks down and looks at you expectantly. “Can we watch some videos?” she asks.

You blink. “Videos?”

“Our wedding, maybe? Or just… us?” She hesitates, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “I want to see. I want to remember.”

You don’t answer right away. Something about the request unsettles you, but you don’t know why.

She watches you carefully, waiting. And for some reason, you find yourself nodding.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting on the couch as the TV screen flickers to life. The first video plays—a montage of your wedding day. The ceremony, the smiles, the laughter. The perfect image of a couple in love.

Yooyeon watches intently, her gaze scanning the screen like she’s trying to etch every second into her mind. “I remember this part,” she murmurs when the camera captures her slipping the ring onto your finger. “I was so nervous.”

You glance at her. “Were you?”

She nods, eyes still locked on the screen. “I kept worrying I’d drop the ring. But you… you looked so calm.” She tilts her head, studying the way you held her hand in the video. “Did you feel nervous?”

You almost laugh. “No. It was just a formality, I was rushing for the event to be over.”

The words sit between you, stark and unfiltered.

Yooyeon doesn’t flinch. Instead, she hums thoughtfully. “Still. We looked happy.”

You don’t answer.

The video shifts to another clip—your honeymoon. A trip spent half in public, playing the roles expected of you, and half in quiet companionship behind closed doors.

“You remember this?” you ask, testing her again.

She pauses. “Not all of it,” she admits. “But some parts… they feel familiar.”

She leans into your side, her body warm against yours.

You hadn’t noticed when it happened, but somehow, Yooyeon ended up nestled against you, her head resting lightly against your shoulder, your arm loosely draped around her. The closeness should feel foreign—it never used to be like this—but strangely, it isn’t.

It feels natural. Too natural.

On the screen, the version of you from the past smiles at her, something soft in his expression that even you don’t quite recognize.

Yooyeon shifts slightly in your arms, tilting her head up to look at you.

Your breath catches.

She’s close. Closer than she should be.

The glow of the screen casts soft shadows over her face, highlighting the curve of her lips, the quiet intent in her eyes. The air between you grows heavy, charged with something neither of you acknowledges.

And then she moves.

Her lips press against yours—gentle, seeking. A quiet, hesitant question in the form of a kiss.

Your body reacts before your mind does.

You’d spent months trying to forget, convincing yourself that this love was better buried.

And yet, here you were—undoing everything in a single moment.

You kiss her back.

Before your kisses could get any deeper, she breaks it off.

“I— I should probably take a shower…” her breath heavy. “Before we continue…” she muttered almost a whisper. As she runs towards your room.

The warmth of her lips still lingers on yours as Yooyeon stumbles away, her words barely registering in your mind. Your pulse is erratic, breath unsteady as she disappears into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, but your thoughts are too tangled to process anything else.

You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. What just happened?

The weight of her kiss, the way her body fit against yours—it felt inevitable, like something long overdue.

Minutes pass, stretching endlessly until the water finally stops. The door creaks open, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of her silhouette before she vanishes into your room, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

Your heart is still racing as you push yourself off the couch. The air feels thick, charged with an energy you don’t know how to name.

The shower is quick, the cold water doing little to calm the storm inside you. Even as you dry off, the memory of her touch lingers—her warmth, her scent, the way she looked at you before she kissed you.

Steeling yourself, you step into your bedroom.

And then—you freeze.

Yooyeon lies on your bed, the blanket pooling around her bare shoulders, exposing smooth skin bathed in the dim light. Her damp hair spills over the pillows, dark strands curling at the ends.

Your throat goes dry.

She watches you, her expression unreadable, lips parted slightly as if caught between hesitation and expectation.

Then it hits you.

Under that sheet, Yooyeon is completely naked.

And so are you.

The towel slips from your fingers, falling soundlessly to the floor. Her gaze follows the movement, trailing over your body before flickering away when it lands lower—shyness warring with curiosity.

You move closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket. Slowly, deliberately, you peel it back, unveiling inch after inch of her bare skin.

First, her collarbones, delicate and defined.

Then her breasts, supple, rising and falling with her breath.

Your eyes trace the gentle slope of her stomach, the way it tenses slightly under your gaze.

And then, finally, the last of the blanket falls away, revealing the most intimate part of her.

You pause, drinking her in—every curve, every detail, the sheer vulnerability of this moment.

She is beautiful.

You remind yourself not to rush. To take your time.

Slowly, calmly, you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss—soft at first, testing, savoring. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she melts into you, her hands trailing up your back, fingertips pressing lightly as if urging you closer.

The kiss deepens.

Your tongues meet, a slow, intoxicating dance. Her taste lingers on your lips, warm and sweet. You tug at her tongue, coaxing it out, teasing, savoring every second before finally breaking apart, breathless.

Both of you pant for air, foreheads pressed together, heat radiating between you. Then, you feel it—Yooyeon’s hand wrapping around your length, her touch light at first, then firmer, stroking you, making you harder than you already are.

You tense, instinctively pulling back for a second, startled by the sudden contact. Her eyes flicker with confusion, but you don’t explain. Instead, you press forward, shifting your focus.

Your lips trail down her body, kissing her skin, feeling the way she trembles beneath you. Her quiet moans spill out as you kiss along her side, then lower, past her navel.

You don’t linger. You know she’s already wet.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you part them, revealing her.

“Yooyeon… can I?” Your voice is low, thick with need.

She nods, her gaze heavy-lidded, filled with anticipation.

You lean in, your tongue sliding against her folds, tasting her, teasing her. She gasps, back arching slightly, her moans growing louder as you work her with slow, deliberate strokes. You take your time, letting each flick, each swirl of your tongue build her pleasure.

You feel her body loosening, her walls softening around your touch. Taking it as your cue, you push your tongue inside, warmth enveloping you as her arousal coats your mouth. She’s overflowing, her body giving in to pleasure.

Her legs clamp around your head, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Fingers tangle in your hair, grasping tightly as her moans turn desperate, erratic.

You hold her thighs apart, refusing to let her escape. The way she writhes beneath you, the way her voice rises with each stroke of your tongue—it only fuels you. Her pleasure feeds your hunger.

You pick up the pace, teasing and flicking against her sensitive bud. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets, her body arching as the sensation overwhelms her.

Then, without warning, you push your tongue back inside, not giving her a moment’s reprieve. Her moans turn to breathless, broken sounds, her mind too lost in the pleasure to form words.

"Fuh…Ah—Nnn… fuah!!!"

Her body tenses, muscles locking up as the pressure builds. Her legs tremble, stretching outward, her hands pressing against your head, trying to ground herself. Her back arches high, head tilting back as the wave finally crashes over her.

And you don’t stop—drawing out every last pulse of her release, savoring the way her body trembles beneath you.

But your hunger isn't satisfied.

Even though she’s already drenched, already ready, you want more.

Moving back up, you claim her breast, taking a hardened peak into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, sucking, teasing, while your hands knead her softness, fingers flicking and pinching in tandem with your lips. You alternate between gentle licks and sharp bites against her sensitive tips, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

A loud moan escapes her, her back arching.

Your eyes flick up, catching the way her head tilts, her neck exposed—a silent invitation.

You answer it immediately, trailing kisses along her skin, feeling her pulse quicken beneath your lips. Each press of your mouth sends another shiver through her, her body reacting to every touch.

But you need more.

Your lips find hers again, and before you can even take the lead, she’s already parting her mouth, welcoming you, her tongue eagerly meeting yours.

The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, both of you losing yourselves in the heat of it.

And then—another moan escapes her, breaking the kiss.

Your tip presses against her, teasing her entrance.

You don’t stop. Instead, you return to her lips, deepening the kiss as you rub your length along her slick folds, coating yourself in her arousal.

Her moans sync with each slow, deliberate movement, her body shuddering beneath you. Her hands cradle your face, fingers gliding over your skin, smearing the mess of your mixed saliva as she pulls you in closer.

Your lips part, but your tongues remain locked in their heated dance, unwilling to separate—until she finally pushes you back, breathless.

"Dear… it’s enough… ah!" she whispers between moans.

But is it?

Doubt lingers, and instead of answering, you dip back down, capturing her breast in your mouth, sucking lightly, flicking her sensitive tips with your tongue. She gasps, arching into you, her fingers tightening against your skin.

You trail back up, capturing her lips once more, silencing any protests. She parts her mouth as if to speak, but you don’t let her—your tongue claims hers again, drawing another muffled moan from her.

Finally, she pleads, her voice trembling with need.

"Please… put it in…"

You pull back slightly, your breathing ragged.

Is it really enough?

Your eyes search hers, questioning and hesitating. You want her completely—but only when she’s truly ready.

Then another thought crosses your mind: rubber. Hastily, you reach for the drawer, but before you can, her hand intercepts yours.

“Wait…” she says softly, holding out a condom. Her eyes sparkle with a mix of impatience and assurance. You know you’re supposed to use it, yet in this heated moment, the raw intensity of your desire makes you yearn for an unfiltered connection.

Clutching the condom in your hand, you feel that inner battle between safety and passion. In one impulsive moment, you decide—raw is what you need. With deliberate urgency, you press yourself against her, entering her without delay.

“Ahnnn…” escapes her lips as she welcomes you. Every thrust is met with her rising moans—a rhythmic symphony that spurs you on.

Your hand slides up to her breast, massaging and flicking it, alternating between gentle licks and teasing bites along her sensitive nipple. The sound of her moans draws your attention to the delicate curve of her neck, where your lips trail a fiery path of kisses.

Her insides grow warmer and more intense with each movement, wrapping around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Sensing that the intensity might soon overwhelm both of you, you briefly pull back—tearing open the condom wrapper with a mix of urgency and hesitation.

You withdraw slightly, and she moans in response. The pause makes you acutely aware of how close you both are to the edge. Desperate not to lose the rhythm, you fumble to put the condom on again.

Sensing your hurry—and perhaps sharing in your urgency—her hand reaches out, deftly fitting the condom for you. Without missing a beat, she guides your length back to her welcoming embrace. Your body re-enters her, and you murmur her name, “Yooyeon.”

“I'm about to cum,” you confess in a low, husky tone, “but… is it okay?”

She meets your gaze with a smile and a nod of encouragement, “Yes… do it whenever you like.”

Emboldened, you resume your pace, each thrust growing more rapid as your kisses overlap with her soft moans. The sight of her—flushed and panting, eyes half-closed in bliss, strands of hair clinging to her flushed skin—drives you closer to your limit. You grip her waist tightly as her arms cradle your head, locking you together in a passionate embrace.

You feel your release building rapidly. Her hips rise to meet your every thrust as she arches her back, her body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. In a final, desperate surge, your finger finds her clit, adding one last burst of stimulation to the electric mix of pleasure.

“No—… Not—There—” she gasps breathlessly as her body twists with the overwhelming sensations.

"I’m—cumming—cumming… Ah!!!" she cries, and in that climactic moment, both of you shatter under the intensity of your shared release.

Her body convulses as waves of heat and pleasure surge through her, each pulse sending shudders down her spine. The sheets beneath you seem to ripple with the force of your climax, every fiber of your being alive with raw ecstasy. You feel her muscles tighten around you, an unspoken invitation to surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, you collapse beside her, your heads turning to face each other. Her expression radiates satisfaction and joy as she softly calls your name. Gently, she plants a kiss on your lips, then on your forehead, and finally on your nose—each tender gesture sealing the memory of your shared passion.

As her eyes close and she nestles into your embrace, you both drift in the afterglow—a raw, unforgettable moment of intimacy that lingers long after the night fades.

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

Yooyeon stirred awake to the warmth of a steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, her fingers curled lightly against his bare chest. His arms were still around her, firm yet relaxed, holding her in a way that made her feel safe. Wanted. Loved.

A quiet smile ghosted her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Last night had been…

Her cheeks flushed at the memory—her own boldness, the way she had moved on instinct, the way his touch had set fire to every inch of her skin. She hadn’t thought too deeply about it at the time. She had simply acted on a feeling—a feeling that told her she wanted him, wanted to be close to him in the most intimate way.

And she had been right.

Being with him had felt good, natural. She felt satisfied, happy, content in a way that only reaffirmed everything she had come to believe since waking up in this life—she loved him.

She was sure of it.

The realization sent a quiet thrill through her. She had been nervous, hesitant, unsure if her memories would ever return, but last night had proven that love didn’t need memories to exist. She felt it in the way she craved his presence, in the warmth that filled her chest when he looked at her.

Yooyeon shifted slightly, pressing closer to him, breathing in the faint scent of him—clean, comforting, familiar.

But then his voice cut through the soft haze of her thoughts.

“That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on her back.

She blinked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Unexpected?”

He hesitated, just for a second. Then, with a careful smile, he said, “It’s been a while.”

A while.

The words settled in her mind, stirring something she didn’t quite understand. Of course, it had been a while—she had only woken up to this life weeks ago. But his tone, the way his hand tightened slightly around her waist, made her feel like it was more than that. Like this distance between them wasn’t just from her accident, but something older.

She wanted to ask—why had it been so long?

But the words never left her lips. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. Their relationship was complicated. She might not remember everything, but she could sense it—the hesitance in his touch, the way he always seemed to be holding back, like there was something unspoken between them.

Maybe that was just how marriage worked. Maybe love wasn’t always constant, but something that came and went.

Still, as she rested her head against his chest, the thought lingered.

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

At first, it unsettles you.

The way Yooyeon moves around you so effortlessly, the way she reaches for your hand without hesitation, the way she speaks to you with such natural affection—it’s disorienting.

She doesn’t remember.

She doesn’t remember that your marriage was built on something practical, something strategic. She doesn’t remember that love was never part of the equation.

And yet, she looks at you like it is.

Like it always has been.

You catch yourself hesitating around her more often than not. There’s a strange discomfort in knowing something she doesn’t, in feeling the weight of the truth pressing against your ribs every time she smiles at you. You should tell her. You should set things straight.

But you don’t.

Instead, you find yourself falling into the rhythm of her new version of your life together.

You wake up with her in your arms, and you don’t pull away.

You sit together for breakfast, and when she instinctively places a peeled orange slice on your plate, you take it without thinking.

You come home from work to find her waiting, sometimes with dinner already prepared, other times with stories of her day, filling the house with a warmth that never quite existed before.

And slowly, day by day, you stop resisting.

You settle into married life again—but this time, without hesitation.

She reaches for you first. She falls asleep in your arms, waking up smiling at you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The distance that once defined your relationship is gone, replaced by something warm, something dangerously easy to believe in.

You let yourself fall into the illusion.

One evening, as you sit in the living room, Yooyeon is curled up beside you, flipping through an old photo album she found while reorganizing the shelves.

“Oh,” she says, her fingers tracing over a picture. “I remember this one.”

You glance over. It’s from a ski trip, a company retreat you attended together two winters ago. She had nearly sprained her wrist trying to prove she could keep up with the more experienced skiers. You had ended up guiding her down the slope, an arm around her waist, both of you laughing as she barely managed to stay upright.

“You do?” you ask, cautious.

“Sort of,” she hums. “It’s faint. More like… I remember how I felt.”

You watch her quietly. “And how did you feel?”

She turns to you with a small smile. “Happy.”

Your chest tightens.

There are other moments, too—soft, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

Nights spent in the kitchen, cooking together, bumping into each other as you move around the stove. She steals bites of whatever you’re preparing, grinning at you when you feign irritation.

Late-night talks, lying in bed with the lights off, her voice quiet but filled with warmth as she tells you about all the things she wants to do, all the places she wants to see. And for the first time, you let yourself imagine being there with her.

She steals kisses—teasingly, playfully, like you’ve always been in love. A kiss on the cheek as she passes by, a lingering press of her lips to yours just before bed. At first, it startles you, but then you start to expect it. Crave it.

And before you realize it, you start kissing her back.

You begin to dream of a life where this isn’t just a lie.

Another time, during dinner, she asks a question you aren’t prepared for.

“What was our first date like?”

You pause, chopsticks hovering midair. “Our first date?”

She nods eagerly, resting her chin in her hand. “I was thinking about it earlier. I tried to remember, but I couldn’t, so… tell me.”

You exhale slowly, setting your chopsticks down. A smile tugs at your lips, unbidden. “You don’t remember sneaking out of that charity banquet when we were seventeen and eating instant ramen at a convenience store?”

Her eyes widen in surprise before a small, delighted laugh escapes her. “That was a date?”

“You called it one,” you say, smirking. “Said it was the best meal you ever had.”

She hums, thoughtful, before grinning. “I must’ve been charming back then.”

“You still are,” you murmur without thinking.

Her expression softens. Then she tilts her head playfully. “That’s cute, but I meant a real date. You know—one where we both knew what it was.”

You hesitate, because you know what she’s really asking.

There was never a first date in the way she’s imagining—no sweet, nervous anticipation, no deliberate choice to step into something romantic. Your relationship had always been tangled in something more complicated.

But now, as she looks at you with expectation, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of her napkin, you find yourself saying—

“Then let’s have one.”

She blinks. “What?”

“A first date,” you say simply, watching her reaction. “One you can remember.”

Her face brightens, eyes gleaming with something warm, something real. “Okay,” she says, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this doesn’t have to be a lie.

You don’t realize when you stop overthinking things.

When she slides her hand into yours while walking through a park, you don’t flinch.

When she leans against you while watching a movie, you don’t stiffen.

When she laughs at something you say, her whole face lighting up, you don’t look away.

And one day, you catch yourself smiling at her when she isn’t looking.

The feeling that stirs inside you is unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

Because the truth is—you’ve always had feelings for her.

You just never let yourself acknowledge them before.

But now, standing in the middle of a life that feels almost real, you wonder if this is a sign.

A sign that maybe, just maybe, you can start again.

And maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to tell her the truth.

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

Yooyeon stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the delicate bracelet around her wrist. A soft hum of excitement bubbled in her chest as she checked her reflection one last time. Their first real date—the kind she had always dreamed of. She wanted today to be perfect. Not because it had to be, but because it already felt like it would be.

She had spent the past hour choosing the right outfit, something that felt effortless yet pretty, hoping he would notice. Hoping he would look at her the way she was starting to look at him.

By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, he was already waiting near the door. His gaze flickered over her, lingering just long enough for warmth to spread through her.

“You look nice,” he said simply, his voice softer than usual.

She grinned. “Only nice?”

He exhaled a small chuckle, shaking his head as if she was impossible. Then, more sincerely—“Beautiful.”

Her breath caught. She wanted to tease him, but the way he said it, like he meant it, left her speechless. Before she could find the words, he extended his hand.

A simple gesture. A quiet offering.

She took it without hesitation, her fingers slipping between his, fitting as if they belonged there. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and together, they stepped out into the world beyond their home.

The day unfolded like something out of a dream.

Their first stop was a small bakery-café, the kind nestled between old bookstores and cozy boutiques. It smelled like fresh bread and vanilla, warmth curling in the air like an embrace. Yooyeon picked a selection of pastries for them to share, carefully choosing the ones she thought he would like.

She watched with barely contained excitement as he took a bite of a strawberry tart.

“It’s good,” he admitted, chewing thoughtfully.

“Good?” She gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. “This is art.”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Alright, it’s art.”

Satisfied, she took her own bite, savoring the sweetness. The café was quiet, filled with the murmur of soft conversations and the gentle notes of a piano melody playing in the background. She found herself stealing glances at him, memorizing the rare ease in his expression, the way the afternoon sunlight kissed his skin.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they weren’t pretending.

The movie theater was next. She had picked a lighthearted romantic comedy, wanting to keep the mood playful. He hadn’t protested, only giving her an unreadable glance when she insisted it would be fun.

It was.

She found herself laughing at the silliest scenes, and every now and then, when she peeked at him, she caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t laughing outright, but he was watching her more than the movie, and somehow, that made her heart flutter more than anything on the screen.

At one point, when she reached for the popcorn, their hands brushed. Neither of them moved.

Slowly, he intertwined their fingers beneath the dim glow of the screen.

Her heart stuttered. She squeezed his hand lightly.

He squeezed back.

By afternoon, they had made their way to the park, where a small picnic awaited them. She had planned it in advance, packing simple homemade sandwiches and fresh fruit. The air was crisp, the sky stretching endlessly above them, and for a while, they simply enjoyed the peacefulness.

Yooyeon leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found its way into her hair, his fingers brushing through it absentmindedly.

Her heart melted.

“I think this is the first time we’ve actually done something like this,” she murmured.

“Like what?”

“Spent a whole day together… just being a normal couple.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in a voice so low she almost missed it—

“Yeah.”

She smiled, closing her eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of him. The world felt quieter like this. Like it had shrunk to just the two of them, existing in a space untouched by the past.

She wanted to stay in this moment forever.

Night had fallen by the time they reached their final stop—a quiet hill overlooking the cityscape. From afar, the lights twinkled like stars, stretching far beyond what the eye could see. The air was cool, crisp against her skin, but standing beside him, she barely noticed.

“I used to come here alone sometimes,” he admitted, his voice softer, more open. “Just to think.”

Yooyeon turned to him, searching his face. “And now?”

He looked at her then—really looked at her. As if seeing her for the first time. As if realizing something he hadn’t before.

“Now, I think I’d rather share it with you.”

Her breath hitched.

The moment stretched between them, delicate and charged.

Without thinking, she stepped closer, lifting a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into her touch, like it was something he had been waiting for.

Her gaze flickered to his lips.

The tension thickened, the world around them fading until there was nothing left but the space between them.

She moved first, closing the distance, pressing her lips to his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like a secret. He inhaled sharply against her mouth, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, filled with something warm and terrifyingly sweet.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed as if grounding himself.

“Maybe we should go home,” he murmured, voice husky.

Yooyeon nodded, still dazed. “Yeah.”

He took her hand again, this time holding it a little tighter as they made their way back.

And deep down, she knew—tonight wasn’t over just yet.

The drive home is quiet, but not tense. Her fingers remain laced with yours the entire way, her grip firm—like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. You don’t say anything about it. You just hold on.

By the time you step through the door, the house feels different. Warmer, despite the lingering shadows. It’s strange how just her presence can make it feel like home again.

Neither of you turn on the lights. There’s no need. The dim glow from the night city lights outside is enough to guide you through the familiar space. Without a word, you both make your way to the bedroom, as if some unspoken understanding pulls you forward.

And now—here you are.

Sitting side by side at the edge of the bed, your hands still loosely linked. The weight of the night settles over you, thick with all the words that haven’t been spoken yet.

You steal a glance at her, only to find her already looking at you. There’s something different in her eyes tonight—not just longing, not just resolve, but something deeper. Something that makes your breath catch.

You thought you had lost her. And maybe, in a way, you did. But now she’s here, choosing you—not because of old memories, not because of a past you held onto alone, but because of now.

And that’s when it hits you.

You had loved her before. Loved her in quiet ways, in restrained touches, in the unspoken words that always hovered on the tip of your tongue. But now—now, you’ve fallen again. Harder. Deeper.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting. For you to speak, for you to move, for you to reassure her that this isn’t a mistake.

You exhale, threading your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Yooyeon…”

Her name feels different when you say it this time—like something new and familiar all at once.

She smiles, small but real, and she pressed her lips against you.

And just like that, you fall all over again.

She pulls away, her lips barely parting from yours as she searches your face. There’s warmth in her gaze, a quiet certainty that makes your chest tighten. Then, she smiles—soft, unwavering.

You cradle her face in your hands, and she leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if memorizing the feel of you.

You kiss her again. This time, there’s no hesitation—just slow, unhurried intimacy, deepening with every passing second.

Her hands rest lightly against your chest, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You can feel her heartbeat, unsteady yet eager, mirroring your own.

Your hand slides up the smooth curve of her thigh, fingers ghosting over her soft skin before slipping under the hem of her skirt. She shudders but doesn’t pull away—if anything, she presses closer, her breath coming faster, anticipation thick in the space between you.

Your lips break apart just as her gaze flickers down—drawn to the movement of your hand between her legs. She knows what’s coming. She wants it.

Without hesitation, your fingers slip beneath her panties, gliding over her soaked heat. A slow, teasing stroke along her slit makes her breath hitch, her thighs twitching in response. You find her clit, circling it with deliberate pressure, and she gasps—soft at first, then louder as your touch grows bolder.

Her head drops onto your shoulder, her body sagging into you, surrendering. You let your free hand tangle in her hair, stroking her, keeping her close as she clings to your other arm. Her grip tightens whenever you rub just right, her body reacting instinctively, desperately.

She’s soaked now, dripping, her slickness coating your fingers as you ease one inside her. She tenses, then relaxes, her walls fluttering around you as you curl your finger, testing, teasing.

“Hnnng…” A breathy moan spills from her lips, her body trembling against yours.

She leans into you, eyes wide and desperate as they lock onto yours—raw, pleading, and hungry for more. You can tell she’s craving every inch of this moment, and you’re more than ready to deliver.

“Can... can I—like, you... lie down?” she asks shyly, her voice low and breathy.

“Sure,” you reply, a mix of confusion and intrigue in your tone as you both head for the bed. Once there, she starts undressing, and you watch, not quite sure what she’s planning.

“Should I... too?” you ask with a playful smirk.

“Ye—yes,” she stammers, her voice thick with anticipation.

Before long, you’re shedding your shirt, pants, and boxers, leaving you completely bare as you wait for Yooyeon to finish. With a final, deliberate move, she slips off her soaked panties, revealing everything. Her eyes linger hungrily on your throbbing package, and after a deep, steadying breath, she crawls over and positions herself on top of you.

Meeting your gaze, she confesses, “It’s because... last time, you teased me way too much,” her cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and desire.

Before you can even reach out for a cuddle, her hand finds your cock, stroking it with a confident, teasing rhythm.

“Yooyeon...” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

Without missing a beat, she shifts so that her dripping, slick pussy meets your throbbing tip. Her natural juices make every touch wet and irresistible.

“Hnnng…” she breathes as she slowly pushes down on you, her warm, inviting opening taking you in inch by inch. Her body settles over yours, fully engulfing you as she adjusts to the sensation.

Then. Her hips start moving—first slow and deliberate, then quickening into a relentless, pulsing rhythm. The heat of her body surrounds you as she rides you hard, every thrust drawing you deeper into a night of raw, unfiltered passion.

“I can feel it twitch…” she breathes, her voice husky as she asks, “Do—does it feel good?”

“Yeah, Yooyeon… it feels amazing,” you reply, your words thick with desire.

Your lips collide, entangling in a deep, fervent kiss as your fingers cradle her cheeks. The kiss intensifies, every touch stoking the fire between you. Rising slightly, she quickens her pace—her desperation unmistakable as she chases her own pleasure.

Before long, exhaustion begins to claim her, and her movements slow; yet even as she gasps for air, her hips remain insistent, grinding slowly despite her fatigue. Sensing an unspoken urge, you murmur, “Yooyeon, there’s something I want to try,” offering an excuse in case she’s too shy to ask outright.

A quick nod is all you need. You reposition her gently to your side, guiding her so that her head rests on your arm. With her back to you, you slide into her again, savoring the fresh angle as both your rhythms realign. Her moans return, matching the new, steady pace that builds once more.

As your hands explore, hers finds yours, fingers interlocking tightly as the intensity escalates. Your other hand wanders over her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples with every deliberate stroke. “I’m—I'm close,” Yooyeon confesses, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Noticing her gaze drifting back to you, you grasp her chin and pull her into another searing kiss, your tongues dancing together. Shifting once again, you climb atop her, pressing her flat against the bed as you prepare to drive her to the edge. “I’m close too,” you murmur between kisses, the admission fusing your sensations into one.

The pace quickens; her moans grow louder, her movements erratic as both your breaths come in ragged bursts. The heat between you becomes almost unbearable, every thrust and every touch amplifying the approaching climax. “Cum with me… please,” she pleads, her voice raw with need.

In that electrifying moment, her body convulses in overwhelming pleasure. You feel your own climax surge through you as you pull away, releasing your heated burst onto her back. The space between you, though charged with the remnants of passion, holds the echo of every gasp, every moan, and every shared moment of unbridled ecstasy.

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

Lying in bed, Yooyeon feels the warmth of his arm draped over her waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city outside. She should be at peace, comforted by his presence—yet something gnaws at her, an unease she can’t quite place.

She traces slow circles on the back of his hand with her fingertips, a habit that feels instinctual, familiar, though she can’t remember why. The motion soothes her, but the ache in her chest lingers. Without thinking, she murmurs,

“You always used to hate holding hands.”

His entire body stiffens.

She feels it instantly—the tension in his muscles, the way his breath halts for a split second before resuming, just a little too controlled.

She blinks, turning to look at him. His face is carefully blank, but she knows better now. Knows enough to recognize the way his guard snaps into place.

“…Didn’t you?” she presses, searching his face for an answer.

He exhales slowly, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t remember saying that.”

But she knows he does.

Her memories aren’t whole—just flickers, shadows of something real but unreachable. Yet, in those fragments, there’s a truth she can’t ignore.

She starts noticing it more—the subtle moments when he pulls away. The slight hesitation before he responds to her touch. The darkness in his eyes when she speaks too easily of their love.

And it starts to hurt.

One night, the weight of it all crashes into her. “Why do you act like this?” she asks, voice trembling. “Like you’re afraid of me?”

His expression hardens. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists, stepping closer. “I see it in your eyes. Every time I talk about us, about our past, you look at me like—” Her throat tightens. “Like you’re waiting for something to fall apart.”

His jaw clenches. He looks away. “Yooyeon, drop it.”

But she can’t. She won’t.

“Why did we choose the beach?” she asks suddenly, searching his face for the truth she feels slipping through her fingers.

His arm stiffens around her shoulders. “You wanted something grand.”

No. The memory surfaces, unbidden. I wanted it small. Private. Just us.

His gaze is raw, almost pained, as if she’s a ghost he can’t touch. When she reaches for him, he hesitates—a heartbeat too long—before brushing a kiss to her temple.

Something inside her cracks.

The fear she’s been trying to suppress rises to the surface, wrapping around her throat, making it hard to breathe. She needs to hear it. Needs him to say it.

“Did you love me from the start?” she whispers in bed that night, her palm flat against his chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He goes still. Seconds stretch into something unbearable before he answers,

“Yes.”

But it’s the wrong kind of yes—heavy with guilt, not devotion.

She sits up, the sheets pooling around her. “Then why does it feel like you’re lying to me?”

His jaw tightens. Moonlight catches the sheen of sweat at his temple.

“Yooyeon—”

“Tell me the truth.” Her voice cracks. “Please.”

He turns away, his silhouette rigid against the night. “You’re still recovering. We shouldn’t—”

“Stop treating me like I’ll break!” The words burst out sharper than she intends. When she grabs his wrist, he flinches.

He actually flinches.

Her breath catches. “You… you’re scared of me.”

“No.” But his pulse is racing beneath her fingers.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” She cups his face, forcing his gaze to meet hers. What she sees there steals the air from her lungs—anguish, regret, something deeper, darker.

His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Because when you remember everything… you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

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

You notice it the moment you step inside.

The air feels different—thicker, colder, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. Some of the lights are off, casting the house in an eerie dimness, as if it were holding its breath.

And Yooyeon—she isn’t there to greet you.

That alone makes you pause. Even on days when she’s distracted, even when she’s lost in thought, she always turns at the sound of the door unlocking. Always lifts her head, always meets your gaze.

But tonight, she doesn’t.

Your chest tightens. You don’t even take off your coat before stepping further inside, following the faint glow of the living room lamp.

Then you see her.

She’s sitting on the couch, unnaturally still. Her hands rest in her lap as if she’s forcing them to stay there. But it’s her eyes that give her away—locked onto something on the table, unblinking.

A single sheet of paper.

Something prickles at the back of your neck.

“…Yooyeon.”

She flinches. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

Then, like a switch, she turns to you, a smile flickering onto her lips—too practiced, too forced. “You’re home.”

Your gut twists. Something is wrong.

Still, you don’t press. You nod, greeting her quietly. She nods back, but her fingers tighten against the fabric of her dress, her nervousness seeping into you.

You tell yourself to let it go. To wait. If it’s important, she’ll bring it up.

So you step away, heading toward your home office. The silence follows you.

You place your briefcase down, reaching for the drawer to put away your documents—

—and stop.

The drawer is open.

Your heart stutters.

It shouldn’t be. You always keep it locked. You always make sure.

Your breath is shallow as your eyes lower—and then you see it.

The contract.

The one detailing everything. The terms of your marriage.

The proof of how pragmatic your relationship was.

The paper that stands in direct contrast to the warmth you’ve built with her now.

Your pulse pounds.

Yooyeon.

She saw it.

You’re moving before you can think, your footsteps brisk as you retrace your steps, each second stretching unbearably long.

When you step into the living room again, she’s already looking at you.

Panic. That’s what you see first. She opens her mouth, stumbling over her words, voice thin and desperate, like she’s trying to contain a flood. “I—I found it when I was cleaning. I didn’t mean to pry, I just—”

She stops, swallowing hard. Then, softer, like she already knows she won’t like the answer:

“…What does it mean?”

Your throat tightens.

The weight of it crashes between you, an invisible force pressing against your chest, against your ribs.

She knows.

She doesn’t know.

Not completely. Not yet. But she’s one breath away from understanding.

You could lie. You could say it was nothing. That it was just an old, forgotten document. You could keep pretending.

But you don’t.

Because the truth is already here, unraveling between you.

You exhale, stepping forward, your voice quiet, steady.

“Yooyeon… there’s something I need to tell you.”

The silence is suffocating.

Yooyeon doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. You see it in her eyes. The confusion, the disbelief, the quiet, desperate hope that this isn’t what she thinks it is.

You wish you could spare her. Wish you could rewind to a moment before she found that damned contract, before she looked at you with that kind of fragile, breaking expression.

But you can’t.

So you force yourself to meet her gaze, force yourself to let the truth spill before it’s too late.

“Our marriage wasn’t… real. At least, not the way you think it was.”

Her breath catches.

You don’t look away. “It was arranged. A contract. Your parents and mine, they wanted us to marry. We went along with it.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. You can see the gears turning in her head, the memories she’s tried so hard to piece together now twisting into something cruel, something she never saw coming.

She swallows. “So… so you’re saying…” Her voice shakes. “It was all fake?”

Something twists in your chest.

“No,” you say immediately. Desperately. “No, I—” You drag a hand down your face, frustration clawing at you. “It wasn’t like that. Not for me.”

She flinches.

And that’s when it happens—the moment her heart breaks.

You can see it, feel it, the way her entire body tenses like she’s trying to hold herself together, but the cracks are already there, spreading, widening.

“…Every time you told me you loved me,” she whispers, “was it just part of the act?”

“Yooyeon.” Your voice is strained, pleading. “I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth.”

She stares at you.

Then she lets out a quiet, shaky laugh—one that isn’t amused at all.

She takes a step back. Then another.

Your stomach drops.

She’s leaving.

You don’t know where, don’t know if she even has anywhere to go, but she’s walking away from you.

“Yooyeon, wait—”

She shakes her head. “I need to think.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to think.”

Everything in you screams to stop her. To explain, to beg, to do anything but let her go.

But you don’t.

Instead, you inhale sharply and take a step back first.

“I’ll give you space,” you say, though it nearly kills you. “But don’t leave. Please.”

She hesitates.

You reach for her hand—just barely, just enough for her to know you would still hold on if she let you.

And finally, finally, she exhales, her shoulders dropping as if she’s too exhausted to fight anymore.

“…Okay,” she whispers.

She stays.

But the distance between you has never felt wider.

You exhale, slow and measured, though everything inside you is fraying at the edges.

“I’ll stay at a hotel,” you say, voice quiet but firm. “For as long as you need.”

Yooyeon doesn’t respond right away. She’s still looking at you like she doesn’t know who you are anymore. Like she’s seeing you for the first time and hating that she ever trusted you.

It’s unbearable.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped here,” you continue, forcing the words out despite the knot in your throat. “I don’t want you to think I’m keeping you in a place built on lies.”

Her breath stutters, but she quickly masks it. She’s still trying to be strong.

You wish she wouldn’t.

You wish she’d yell at you, cry, say something that doesn’t feel like an unbearable silence stretching between you.

“Okay,” she finally whispers.

You nod, forcing yourself to move. To walk away first, even when every instinct in you screams to stay.

But before you reach the door, her voice stops you.

“How long?”

You turn, eyes meeting hers.

“How long were you going to keep this from me?” she asks, arms wrapping around herself. “If I hadn’t found out… would you have ever told me?”

The truth is cruel, but it’s the only thing she deserves now.

“…I don’t know.”

Yooyeon swallows, then looks away.

That’s when you realize—you’ve broken something that might never be fixed.

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

Yooyeon wakes up alone.

The bed feels bigger now, colder, the silence stretching around her like an unwelcome embrace. She lies there for a moment, staring at the empty space beside her, before finally sitting up.

Another day.

She moves through the house like a ghost, her footsteps quiet, her routine unchanged—yet everything feels different. The kitchen table where they used to share quiet breakfasts, the couch where he used to sit, sifting through papers while she curled up beside him. It’s all the same, and yet it isn’t.

Because he’s not here.

He never called. Never came back.

She should be relieved. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Space. Time.

But instead, all she feels is this aching loneliness.

Her eyes fall to the coffee table, where the contract still sits, edges curled from how often she’s touched it, read it, searched it for something—anything—that could make this hurt less.

Each word, each line, feels heavier now. A binding agreement, an arrangement born from necessity. But as the days pass, as she reads it over and over, something in her shifts.

It was never just that.

Her mind drifts back to that night—his voice, raw with emotion.

"I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth."

She remembers the way he looked at her, desperate, conflicted, afraid. She hadn’t been able to see it then, too consumed by the betrayal, by the weight of everything she didn’t know. But now, with time, with distance—

Hadn’t she felt the same way?

She rests a hand over the contract, fingers trembling slightly.

Her memories come in fragments. Unclear at first, like pieces of a puzzle she can’t quite fit together. But slowly—painfully, inevitably—they start to return.

She remembers loving him. Wanting him. Long before marriage was even a question.

They had been friends first, before their parents had forced them together. But she had never felt trapped, had never resented the idea. Because she had wanted it too.

She had been happy, at first. Happy at the opportunity to be something more, to step into a future where she could love him freely.

But then—she hesitated.

Fear had crept in, silencing her before she could say the words, before she could risk what they already had. She had told herself it was better this way. Safer.

And then—

The accident.

The memories she had lost. The love she had forgotten.

Yooyeon lets out a shaky breath, pressing her palm against her forehead.

She had already fallen for him before the marriage.

And now—she's not going to lose him again.

She already lost him once to her memories. She won’t let it happen a second time.

It doesn’t matter how it all started, doesn’t matter what had happened before. She had fallen for him before. More importantly is that she fell for him again.

She loves him. Now.

And that’s enough.

Her hands tighten around the contract for a moment before she exhales, setting it aside. She grabs her coat, her keys. She needs to see him.

She needs to fix this.

Without another thought, she heads for the door, heart pounding as she makes her way to his hotel.

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

You weren’t expecting her.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Days had passed, stretching into something unbearable, something you forced yourself to endure because it was what she needed. Space. Time. A chance to decide if she even wanted to come back.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t wait forever. That if she wanted to leave, you would let her. That you wouldn’t be selfish—not anymore.

But when the knock comes, sharp and hesitant against the hotel door, your heart betrays you.

You open it, and there she is.

Yooyeon stands in the dim hallway, arms wrapped around herself, eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her hair is slightly damp, as if she’d rushed here without thinking twice. Her lips part, as if searching for something to say—something to explain why she’s here at all.

But then she steps forward.

Her hands reach for you first, fingers curling into your shirt, and before you can ask, before you can even breathe—

She kisses you.

It’s not careful. Not hesitant. Not like before.

It’s deep, unrestrained, filled with something desperate and aching, like she’s trying to grasp something that’s always felt just out of reach.

You’re stunned. For half a second, your body locks up—because how could you have prepared for this? For her? For the way she clings to you, pressing herself close like she’s afraid to let go?

And then you give in.

Your arms wrap around her, pulling her fully into you, returning the kiss with everything you’ve held back for too long.

She came back.

She wants this.

When she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling in the small space between you. “I don’t want to remember a love we pretended to have.” Her voice is quiet, steady despite the way her fingers tremble against your chest. “I want to love you for real.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

You swallow, pressing your lips together, hands tightening at her waist. “Are you sure?”

Her answer is immediate. “Yes.”

And that’s all you need.

You don’t know how you make it to the bed. Only that she doesn’t let go. That every step, every kiss, every touch feels like something slipping back into place—like something that had always been there, waiting to be found.

She’s warm against you, tucked under the sheets, her body curled into yours as if she belongs there.

And maybe she does.

Her head rests against your chest, fingers playing absently with the fabric of your shirt. She’s quiet, but not distant. Not like before.

You hesitate, then run a hand down her back, slow, deliberate. She shivers, but doesn’t pull away.

“I thought I lost you,” you admit, voice low in the quiet.

She shifts, tilting her head up to meet your gaze. In the dim light, her eyes are soft, filled with something painfully tender.

“I won’t leave you,” she murmurs.

You inhale sharply.

She presses her hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat pounds—steady, strong.

“Not again.”

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

Their steps were slow, unhurried, yet every kiss, every touch, pulled them further inside, as if gravity itself was drawing them together. Yooyeon wasn’t even sure who was leading. It didn’t matter. Between soft sighs and the heat of his hands on her waist, guiding her closer, she only realized they had reached the bed when the backs of her knees met the edge.

She looked up at him, breathless, her pulse thrumming with anticipation. There was no hesitation this time, no uncertainty. Just them.

She kissed him again, rising onto her toes to meet him, her lips warm and insistent. He responded without pause, deepening the kiss, his hands steady on her waist as he pulled her closer. The sensation of him, solid and warm, sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Then, he pulled away just enough to rise above her, his gaze heavy with intent. Yooyeon’s breath caught, her skin buzzing with anticipation as his fingers found the hem of her sweater. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, the fabric sliding over her skin, gathering just above her chest. Cool air met the warmth of her body, sending a shiver through her as her stomach and the lace-covered swell of her breasts were revealed to him.

Her heart pounded as he leaned down, his lips tracing a slow, unhurried path along her jaw, then lower, down the delicate curve of her neck. Every press of his mouth left her skin tingling, warmth pooling deep inside her. His hands followed, tender yet assured, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. A quiet sigh escaped her, her back arching instinctively into his touch, silently urging him on.

His fingers skimmed the slope of her waist, tracing along her ribs before venturing lower. The anticipation made her breath stutter, her senses sharpening as his hand found the waistband of her jeans. She felt his fingers slip past the fabric with ease, the heat of his touch pressing against the thin lace of her panties.

A sharp breath hitched in her throat as he explored, teasing at her center with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure curling through her. She clung to his shoulders, her grip tightening as he pushed her further into sensation—patient, unhurried, savoring every reaction she gave him.

Beside her, his warmth enveloped her, grounding her even as his fingers continued their slow, teasing rhythm. Every movement was precise, coaxing, igniting a fire deep within her. She could feel the way her hips responded, rising instinctively to meet his touch, chasing the pleasure he so expertly drew from her.

Her breath came in quiet, uneven gasps, each one only spurring him on. His gaze flickered between her flushed face and the way her body moved under his touch, drinking in every sound, every shiver.

Then, seamlessly, their position shifted. He sat up, pulling her with him, his arms wrapping around her as he cradled her against his chest. Her head rested against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her breath shaky, her body trembling in his hold. Yet his hand remained between her thighs, never faltering, never rushing—just holding her there, guiding her deeper into sensation.

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself against the pleasure that threatened to consume her entirely.

“Yooyeon…” He whispers her name, his voice deep and coaxing.

His free hand stroked her hair, tender and grounding—a stark contrast to the way his other hand moved with aching precision. She gasped, thighs trembling around his wrist, and he tightened his hold around her, murmuring soft reassurances against her temple.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her through his pants, heat radiating from him. Instinctively, her hand drifted down, palm grazing over the rigid outline. A quiet sigh escaped him at her touch.

“I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet desire.

A silent agreement passed between them as he slowly withdrew his hand from between her thighs, releasing her just long enough to let them shift.

Yooyeon pulled her sweater over her head, the fabric slipping away to reveal bare skin beneath. He helped her, his fingers grazing along her arms as he eased it off. She returned the gesture, undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders, baring him to her touch.

Piece by piece, they undressed—her bra, her jeans, the soft slide of lace slipping down her legs until nothing remained between them. She moved closer, hands finding the buckle of his belt, unfastening it with deliberate care. He watched her, breath shallow, as she worked the zipper down, easing his pants over his hips and letting them pool at his feet.

Left only in his boxers, his arousal strained against the fabric, the tension between them thick with anticipation. Settling between his legs, Yooyeon reached for the waistband, fingers curling around it as she tugged it down, inch by inch. The moment the fabric gave way, his erection sprang free, no longer bound by restraint.

She glanced up at him, lips slightly parted, her breath warm against his skin. He looked down at her, eyes dark with something between restraint and longing.

“Yooyeon… you don’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low, hesitant.

She shook her head, her heart aching at how gentle he was with her. “But I want to.”

And she did. It wasn’t just about desire—it was something deeper, something that went beyond the heat simmering between them. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her, how much she trusted him, how much she loved him. Every touch he had given her had been filled with tenderness, with devotion. She wanted to give that back to him now, to see him unravel because of her.

Holding his gaze, she leaned in, letting her lips brush against him first—soft, deliberate, reverent. His breath caught. Encouraged, she let her tongue flick out, tasting him, before slowly taking him into her mouth. He twitched against her tongue, and a quiet groan slipped from his lips. The sound sent warmth curling through her, not just from arousal, but from the knowledge that she could bring him pleasure like this. That he would let her. That he wanted her to.

She moved slowly, savoring the weight of him, the heat, the way his fingers threaded through her hair—not to guide her, not to demand, but simply to touch, to hold. His restraint was palpable, and it only made her more determined to make him feel good.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the sight of him nearly stole her breath. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But it was his eyes that struck her most—heavy-lidded, filled with something deep, something raw. It wasn’t just lust. It was trust. It was need. It was him letting her in, completely.

She took him deeper, her fingers gripping his thighs as she found a rhythm—slow, unhurried, giving him everything she had. She wanted him to feel it—to feel her. To know that this was more than just pleasure, that it was her love, her devotion, poured into every movement.

“Yooyeon…” His voice was strained, rough with need.

She stilled immediately, understanding him without question. He wasn’t asking her to stop—he just wanted something different. Something more.

He reached for her, his hands open, waiting. Without hesitation, she took them, letting him guide her up, pulling her closer.

She followed his lead, moving effortlessly into his lap, their bodies pressing together as she settled atop him. Face to face now, her knees hugged his sides, her chest brushing against his with every breath. A sharp shiver ran through her as she felt him—hot, hard, pressing against her stomach, the intimacy of their position making her pulse race.

She gazed at him, her fingers trailing over his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, memorizing every inch of him. His eyes, dark and unreadable, searched hers, and for a moment, they simply breathed together, held in the gravity of this moment.

Slowly, tenderly, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss—one filled with everything she couldn’t say out loud.

But she wanted to show him. To give him everything.

Her gaze drifted downward as she reached between them, her fingers grazing along his hardness, feeling the heat of him against her palm. A quiet shiver ran through her as she caressed him, taking her time, savoring the way he responded to her touch. With careful precision, she guided him, adjusting her position, her body instinctively preparing to take him in.

And then, without hesitation, she moved.

A quiet gasp left her lips as she slowly enveloped him, her body stretching to accommodate him, every inch sending waves of sensation through her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, seeking both support and connection, her forehead resting briefly against his as she took a steadying breath.

She felt him—deep, warm, filling her completely. But more than anything, what she felt was joy. A slow, radiant smile formed on her lips as she met his gaze, her heart swelling with something beyond just pleasure.

And then, as if that smile was all the invitation he needed, he began to move.

The first thrust sent a sharp, sweet pleasure rippling through her, her breath catching before it spilled out in a quiet moan. The next had her clutching onto him, overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling. The sound of their mingled breaths, the heat between them, the way their bodies moved together—it was all-consuming.

She melted into him, lost in the rhythm, lost in him.

The intensity overwhelmed him, and he fell back, bringing her with him. A gasp left Yooyeon’s lips as she followed, her body molding against his as his thrusts remained unrelenting. His hands moved to her hips, then lower, gripping her firmly as he guided her movements, driving her deeper into pleasure.

She felt the heat, the desperation between them, the way their bodies refused to part even for a second. Every movement sent another wave of sensation crashing through her, pushing her closer to the edge.

But she wanted more than just the pleasure. She wanted him—completely.

Yooyeon cupped his face, her fingers threading into his damp hair as she looked down at him. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed, lost in the sheer intensity of their connection. She could see it, feel it—the tension coiling tight within him.

So she kissed him.

Soft at first, then deeper, her lips parting to welcome him, their tongues meeting in a slow, tangled dance. She poured herself into the kiss, coaxing, soothing, grounding him even as the pleasure consumed them both.

And slowly, she felt him relax beneath her, surrendering to her touch, to her.

As his pace became less erratic, she adjusted, matching his rhythm with newfound confidence. She learned his movements, feeling the way their bodies aligned, and slowly, she took control—rolling her hips in time with his, meeting each thrust with her own.

Their breaths synced, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his hands tightened on her waist, guiding her but letting her lead. A quiet thrill coursed through her at the unspoken understanding between them, at the way he let her set the pace, trusting her, surrendering to her.

Their eyes met, locking in an intimate gaze, the world around them fading away. There were no words—there was no need for them. In that moment, everything was clear.

It was just them.

“Yooyeon… I’m close…” His voice was ragged, strained, barely holding on.

She gasped, her fingers tightening against his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter inside her. “Me too…” she whispered, her breath hitching. Then, she met his gaze, her eyes soft, full of trust. “You can… it’s fine.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, at the quiet certainty in her voice.

And then, together, they unraveled.

His grip on her waist tightened as he thrust deep, his release spilling into her just as she came undone around him. A sharp, breathless cry escaped her lips as pleasure surged through her, overwhelming, consuming. She trembled in his arms, her body clinging to his as the waves of ecstasy pulsed through them both.

For a long moment, neither of them moved—just the sound of their breaths mingling, their bodies still entwined, the warmth of each other keeping them grounded.

Slowly, Yooyeon melted against his chest, her heart still racing, a soft, contented sigh escaping her.

They had never felt closer.

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

You wake up before her.

The first thing you notice is the weight of her arm draped over your chest, her fingers lightly curled against your skin. The second is how deeply she sleeps—peaceful, unguarded, as if she belongs here, as if there was never a time when she didn’t.

Something tight eases in your chest.

You should move, should slip away before she stirs, but you don’t. You just lie there, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way the early morning light catches the strands of her hair.

She came back.

Not out of obligation. Not because of memories.

But because she chose you.

Your fingers brush over her knuckles, tracing the shape of her hand. She shifts at the touch, her brows scrunching slightly before her eyes flutter open.

For a second, she blinks at you, dazed with sleep. Then, she smiles—small, warm, real. "You're staring."

You huff a quiet laugh. "You're the one who came here in the middle of the night and threw yourself at me."

She flushes, burying her face into your chest. "I did not throw myself at you."

"You did." You smirk, tightening your hold around her. "Not that I’m complaining."

She groans but doesn’t pull away, only presses closer. You feel the sigh she lets out, something soft and content against your skin.

Then, quieter, almost hesitant—“What happens now?”

Your grip on her tightens slightly.

Because the truth is, you don’t know.

There is no contract binding you anymore. No pretense of a marriage built on expectations, no excuse to hide behind the illusion of what you used to be.

There is only this—the love she chose to give you.

And you—the love you’ve always had for her.

You exhale, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We take it one day at a time.”

She tilts her head up, searching your face. You meet her gaze, your voice quieter when you add, “And this time, we don’t hide.”

Her expression softens. She lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing just below your eye.

"Okay," she whispers.

And just like that, it’s decided.

This time, it’s real.

No pretending. No distance.

Just you and her.

[landososcar]

so american ; CL16

pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader

summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver

warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF

note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)

instagram !

liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others

youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨

view all comments

friend1 monaco is so so beautiful

yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us

youruser but…

charles_leclerc im stealing her

yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks

charles_leclerc whats your point ??

friend2 the states miss you come home

friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????

yourbff i feel cheated on

charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️

youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶

yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…

charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me

friend4 you look so happy😁

instagram !

liked by fan1, fan2, and others

cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!

view all comments

fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances

fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us

fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco

fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird

fan5 imma steal that dog

fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭

fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk

imessages !

translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’

translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’

twitter !

instsgram !

youruser added to the story!

charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!

charles_leclerc replied to your story

↳ you always do baby

↳ god you’re so cheesy

↳ i hate you

↳ can we go back home i miss leo

↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours

↳ i know i know

↳ i just love him so much

you replied to charles_leclerc’s story

↳ CHARLIE DELETE

↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭

↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??

↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you

↳ why would you joke about that

↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack

↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me

instagram !

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.

view all comments

user1 she so beautiful oh my god

user2 where’s leo

user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere

user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with

user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser

user6 ooo that could be her fs

user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf

user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass

twitter !

twitter !

instagram !

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others

charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️

view all comments

user1 CHARLES who is THAT

user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️

carlossainz55 whipped

user3 omg is she playing his piano

user4 yes with her feet

youruser love love love you

charles_leclerc chérie💓💓

user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already

user5 who CAREEESSSSS

user6 it’s none of our business

yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD

charles_leclerc are you jealous

instagram !

liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others

youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol

view all comments

yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him

youruser wdym

yourbff i hate him

yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him

yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING

youruser you sound jealous

yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend

charles_leclerc FRENCH????????

friend1 miss you 🫶🫶

joris__trouche ❤️

friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu

friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous

charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR

charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE

yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls

charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back

yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me

youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️

charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓

youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭

leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️

youruser he misses you 🥰

imessages !

my other works !

[damnfeelings09]

So long, London - Shadow version

“I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift”

You were at home, the house you shared with Shadow. It was a beautiful and cozy place. If only you still enjoyed being there. At first, everything was fine; Shadow loved having you close, even though he didn't show it very enthusiastically, his small gestures of love towards you always made your heart melt. However, lately, he had been very distant. It had been weeks since he kissed you, and don’t even talk about intimacy. Shadow was always very busy with his work, going from mission to mission, trying to save the world, but that’s what heroes do, right? So why did you feel so… alone?

“Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.”

Every chance you got, you made sure that when Shadow came through the door, there was food ready, a comfortable and cozy place, a home that covered all the bad from the outside. But it was no longer enough. Every time you tried to start a conversation, Shadow refused, claiming he was too tired, had other things to do, and didn’t want to be disturbed. He locked himself in his office and you didn’t see him for days. You didn’t even share the same bed anymore. You tried to deceive yourself, of course, The Ultimate Lifeform doesn’t need rest, you thought, as you curled up and wiped away the tears before going to sleep.

As the weeks passed, you became immune to his indifference. Shadow didn’t try anymore, and neither did you. Both of you only shared the table out of habit. Is this how it feels when love ends?

“I stopped trying to make him laugh

Stopped trying to drill the safe.”

Right now, you were in the room with a bag full of your belongings. You couldn’t take this indifference anymore. The suffering was killing you, and he couldn’t even notice. You quickly grabbed what you could from your drawers and put it inside. Near the door, there was a photo. In it, you and Shadow were sitting on the edge of a hill, happy, smiling. When did all that happiness evaporate? Where did all that happiness go?

“Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...”

You pushed the photograph to the floor, the frame shattering into a thousand pieces at the same time as your heart did. Was this really what you wanted? The pain in your chest was devastating. There seemed to be no way out of it; you just needed it to stop. How could you stop a heart that lost its only reason to beat?

“I stopped CPR, after all it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to.”

It wasn’t too late. You could still go back, leave everything as it was, and Shadow would never know. The thought of staying made your heart hurt less, but for how long? How much longer could you bear it? Before the pain consumed you completely, what else were you willing to give?

“And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white knuckles dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment.”

As you picked up the glass shards, you remembered the last fight you had. It was early, Shadow had promised he would spend the day with you. You woke up so excited, happy that finally your boyfriend would have time for the two of you, but when you went downstairs, you found him about to leave through the door.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend the day together,” you said, fiddling with your fingers, a nervous tic that always appeared when you were anxious.

“Something important came up” Shadow said, opening the door.

“I thought I was important” the anger consumed you from within. You had spoken without thinking. “At least pretend that you’re trying” You quickly covered your mouth, as if you could erase what you had just said. Shadow just sighed and gripped the doorknob tightly.

“You think I’m not trying?” he asked, anger building up on his voice as he turned to face you “I always push myself, I want to live my life, to enjoy it. Just like you do! But the death of my family is on me, and if I wasn’t created, none of it would’ve happened. It’s on me, I’m the one who has to pay for it. It’s all on me, so gods forgive me if I don’t have time for spoiled stupid little brats” he said, next thing you knew is that Shadow had disappeared using his chaos control, didn’t even bother to open the door, leaving you stranded. You stayed there at the edge of the stairs, trying to hold back your sobs, but as seconds passed, the weight became unbearable and it all came out. The pain was so deep that you couldn’t breathe, as if life itself was slipping from your hands. That day, when Shadow came back, he didn’t dare speak to you.

“My friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there.”

When you told Rouge and Amy about it, they were ready to hit him so hard that even his ancestors would feel the pain. But you didn’t let them, because you loved him, despite everything… you loved him. You still love him, right?

“Just how low did you think I'd go?

Before I'd self-implode

Before I'd have to go be free.”

“You swore that you loved me but where are the clues?” you whispered as you held the photograph in your hands, caressing it, wishing to go back to that day. You inhaled, filling your lungs with fresh air, allowing yourself to feel that pain, hidden, denied, buried among what you thought was love. For a moment, you let it take control of your body, each second more unbearable than the last. You couldn’t go on like this, you weren’t going to go on like this. Shadow wouldn’t take everything you were and turn it to ashes. Yes, you loved him, but you wouldn’t let him drag you into his misery. He had taken what once was a home and turned it into a cold, dark place, where light couldn’t reach you, at least not until you allowed it.

“And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place.”

You turned the photograph around, took the pen that was on the table near the front door, and wrote your farewell. You placed the paper back on the table with your keys, and as your heart agonized, you gave the final goodbye to your home, the only one you’ve ever known.

“Had a good run

A moment of warm sun

But I'm not the one

So long, Shadow” - Moon.

[ssa-danhotchner]

Ghostin | Aaron Hotchner

summary: after Foyet, Aaron retreats into his grief, pushing reader away despite their unwavering love

cw: fem reader, BAU reader, angst, mention of Haley's death, mention of Aaron being stabbed, grief, relationship breakdown

wc: 1.6k

note: english isn't my first language!

Their relationship began quietly, built on small moments over time. It wasn’t love at first sight, but rather a slow connection formed between late nights at the BAU, working together on cases, and trading small smiles. You’d been colleagues before, but as time passed, there was a subtle shift. He admired your calmness and intelligence, and you saw a depth in him that most people didn’t.

It was in the little things: the way he’d offer you coffee when you were too tired to ask, or the small gestures of care when he’d notice you needed something. You started sharing dinners at quiet places, and those dinners turned into evenings where you’d linger in each other’s company, the space between you no longer just professional.

It was simple, but it was real.

When you kissed him for the first time, it was everything and nothing at once. It was electric, but not in the way of passionate, rushed moments. No, it was a slow realization that everything before had led to this. That kiss was just the beginning of a journey, the start of a love that felt like it could withstand anything. The way he cupped your face, the way you both melted into the kiss as if the world outside didn’t matter—it was all-consuming. When he pulled away, his breath shallow, his face flushed with something unspoken, you knew. He knew, too. This was it.

Aaron was never the kind of man to offer grand declarations of love. He wasn’t the type for sweeping gestures or unnecessary words. But he showed it in every touch, in every moment he chose to stand by you. And you? You showed him with patience, understanding, and unwavering support. It was a partnership, and it was beautiful.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. The job, the chaos, the violence—it all faded away when you were together. It was a love that made him feel like he wasn’t alone. A love that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

But the world has a way of changing everything, doesn’t it?

And then came him.

George Foyet tore into Aaron’s life like a storm, leaving devastation in his wake. You sat in the hospital by his bedside after the stabbing, your fingers wrapped around his bruised hand, whispering reassurances as he drifted in and out of consciousness. You were there when he woke up, gasping in pain, eyes unfocused until they landed on you.

You kissed his temple and murmured, “You’re safe.”

He nodded weakly, but you could tell—he didn’t believe it.

The worst part wasn’t the pain from his wounds—it was what came after.

When Haley and Jack were placed in witness protection, you saw the shift in him. The guilt, the helplessness. He would wake up at night, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. You would reach for him, pressing your hand against his back, feeling the tension beneath his skin.

“I should be with them,” he whispered one night.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re doing everything you can, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

You wanted to tell him he was enough. That he deserved happiness, too. But how could you, when you saw the way his eyes darkened with grief? When you heard the cracks in his voice every time he spoke of his son?

Still, you stayed. You loved him through it all, even when his heart wasn’t fully yours anymore.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting, but I do just what I have to do.”

Then Foyet killed Haley.

And whatever part of Aaron you still had—was gone.

You were there when he crumbled, when his entire world collapsed under the weight of grief. You held him as he broke, as his sobs wrecked through him in the middle of the night, as he whispered Haley’s name over and over again like a prayer.

But then, slowly, he started pushing you away.

First, it was the late nights at the office. Then, the missed calls. The distance in his touch, the way his lips barely lingered when he kissed you goodbye.

And then, one night, he said it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hang in the air, so heavy, they feel like a physical blow. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You blink at him, as if you didn’t hear him correctly, hoping the words were a mistake, a slip of the tongue, something to be fixed with a conversation.

But his eyes… his eyes are a distant storm, glazed over with grief that’s not entirely yours to touch. There’s no warmth in them now, no flicker of the man you knew. Just cold, an emptiness that swallows everything in its path.

“Aaron…” Your voice trembles, soft and barely there. You take a hesitant step toward him, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that feels miles wide. “What are you saying?”

He takes a step back, his posture stiff and guarded. The air between you thickens, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. He closes his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration, then exhales sharply. When he opens them again, you see something break in him—a fracture deep enough that it feels like you’re witnessing his soul crack.

“I can’t… I can’t be the man you need me to be,” he says, his voice low, like each word is a struggle to get out. “I’m not… I’m not whole. I’m not enough for you.”

You don’t understand. You can’t. Your mind races, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of his words, but all you hear is the finality in them.

“No, Aaron,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

His gaze flickers, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid to. It’s like he’s already made up his mind, and there’s no way you can change it.

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs, the words edged with something darker, something you can’t touch. “I’m haunted… by her. By all of it.”

Your heart stings at the mention of Haley. Of course, you know he’s haunted by her, by what happened to her, but there’s something so much deeper, something in his tone that makes it clear this is about more than just his grief. It’s like the love you had, the one you shared so many months and years building, has been eaten away by the remnants of his past.

“Aaron, please… Please don’t shut me out,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

He glances at you then, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you fell in love with—strong, devoted, vulnerable in ways only you could see. But just as quickly, that flicker vanishes, hidden behind a wall he’s built so high you can’t reach it.

“I’m not the same man you fell in love with,” he says, his words cutting through you like glass. “I’m… broken. And I’ll never be whole again.”

“No.” You take another step toward him, reaching out, but his eyes harden, and he steps back once more, as if your touch burns him. “Please don’t do this, Aaron. You don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to push me away.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile curving his lips—not one of humor, but one of sadness. “I’m not pushing you away,” he says softly, but the words don’t match his actions. “I’m letting you go. Because you deserve more than the shattered man I am. You deserve someone who can be fully there for you. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

The sting in your chest feels like it’s spreading, like your heart is fracturing into pieces, too. You want to scream at him, to beg him to see you, to understand that you’re willing to take all of him—the broken pieces, the ghosts, the pain. But you can’t. You know, deep down, that this isn’t just about you. This is about him, about the war inside him that you’ll never be able to fight for him.

“I love you,” you say, barely above a whisper, but your words crack with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. You want to scream it, shout it, let him know that you would do anything to stay by his side, to help him heal. But all that comes out is a sob, a broken plea. “I love you so much, Aaron. Don’t do this.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against whatever pain it is that he’s carrying. You can see the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, he takes a deep breath and turns away from you.

“I can’t keep pretending. Not when every time I look at you, I see… her. Not when every time I close my eyes, I hear her voice.” His voice cracks as the words spill out, a raw vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t think were possible. “You deserve someone who’s whole. Someone who can love you without being broken. I’m not that man anymore.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

He steps toward the door, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stand there—frozen, as if if you move, it’ll be the end of everything. You feel as if you’re about to fall into an abyss that you can’t climb out of.

“Aaron… please,” you whisper, but he doesn’t turn around.

The door shuts behind him with a finality that echoes through your chest. And you’re left standing there, completely empty, as if your world was just torn apart.

You don’t even realice that you’re crying until you feel the tears burning your cheeks, hot and desperate. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach him. He’s gone, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he once held, but now has abandoned.

The man you loved is no longer the man standing in front of you. And you can’t help but wonder if he ever really was.

---

[alwaysanundertone]

Why Try | poly! marauders x fem reader

slight angst, fluff

word count: 1.3k

CW: mention of not eating (previous chapter), swearing, kissing (?)

tag list: tag: @staarflowerr @mooonyxoxo @liviessun @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @hcqwxrtss123

chapter 1, chapter 2, this is chapter 3, chapter 4 will be coming soon

After the fainting accident, you decided to go for a walk together by the Black Lake, given the fact that your secret relationship wasn’t a secret anymore.

Sirius sat by a tree, gesturing for you to lay down and rest your head on his thighs; you did so, James by your side and Remus at your feet, massaging your calves. You sat in comfortable silence for a while, though you knew it was bound to end.

“I hate to interrupt this, but I feel like we have to talk” You turned your head to Remus, who was looking at you sweetly. “First, how are we gonna deal with your brother? You said he was really protective over you”

You took a deep breath, you could just keep up with this lie, or tell the truth. “He is, but he’ll get over it, I’ll deal with him”. You smiled, trying hard to school your expression in order to not seem suspicious.

“Okay doll, still you shouldn’t have to deal with him alone, you know? We are more than happy to help” James looked at you softly, and you felt like a complete asshole, lying to him like that.

The problem was, you were ashamed of your insecurities. Even it still hurt to think about them, it seemed so silly to talk, to acknowledge the fact that you were, in fact, sad over something so insignificant.

“Why did you avoid us?” You startled, looking up at Sirius.

“I didn’t-“

“You did. We were worried sick, but we didn’t want to overstep, because we aren’t official yet. If you were sad you could have come to us, we could have talk it out, you know?” He looked genuinely hurt. “What happened? I just- We just want to know, please? And also, why did you starve yourself?”

Now you were feeling ashamed and guilty. You were not right for them, you didn’t know much about Sirius family situation, but you knew that he didn’t need another thing to worry about. Remus and James had their problems, and they needed to support Sirius, definitely not you.

“Love? Talk to us, will you?”

“This was a mistake” You tried hard not to cry, to seem heartless.

“What? What was a mistake?” Sirius looked devastated, and that hurt even more.

Your voice cracked slightly. “This whole relationship thing, I’m no good for you, I ruined everything like I always do” You sniffed slightly. “I’m sorry” You quickly detangled from them.

“No, wait Y/N, I didn’t mean-“ You started walking away, James was swearing while Sirius voice sounded dangerously close to crack. “Y/N! For God’s sake, come back”

You did it. You ruined everything like you always did, but this time it was for the best. This time you were protecting them, and this made you feel slightly better.

Maybe you spoke too quickly.

Remus had your wrist in an iron grip. “Y/N. You can’t just walk away like that.” You tugged your wrist, but he didn’t let go. “No, now you’ll listen to me. You can’t run away without an explanation. Here’s what’s gonna happen: you will sit down, and you will explain what is going on in that pretty head of yours, and we will listen to you. Then, only then, we will talk this out”

You sniffled, watching Sirius and James catching up to you, the latter hugging you tightly. You broke.

“It’s just that I ruin everything, I always do!” You cried. “I don’t mean to hurt the ones I love, but I just do, look at Sirius! I might not know everything about his situation, but I know he doesn’t need to worry about me, on top of everything.” James was rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I’m not enough for you.”

Sirius forrowed his brows. “Love, don’t think for a moment that you’re a burden. You made these last weeks so full of joy, you made me worry less about everything else.“

“But you were worried about me, I didn’t mean to-“

“Listen, I’m always going to worry about the people I love, understood? I can’t just not be effected by it, so you should get used to it”

Your heart did a somersault. “Love?”

They all smiled at you gently. “Yeah, you’re becoming more important to us every day, it’s definitely starting to feel like love to us” James kissed your forehead. “We had a massive crush on you far before you started talking to us, you know? So don’t think for a moment you’re not good enough for us, because you are, I can assure you baby. Just think about the heartbreak you will put us through if you leave”

“It’s just- Look at me, why are you so interested in me? I have nothing special, I’m not super smart, I don’t look like a model, I fail at all of my hobbies! You are literally perfect, and popular, and smart and funny, I don’t get it. You are just-“ A sob broke through. “I don’t deserve you”

They all hugged you, Remus cradled your head in his hands, he was so gentle, so soft, you had no choice but to melt into his touch. “I won’t tolerate hearing you talk so badly about yourself; all of this negativity will inevitably affect your perception of yourself and our relationship, and we can’t have that, now can we?” You shook your head. “Exactly. So next time you feel like that, you will come to us, we will talk it out and then cuddle, but you just can’t disappear on us! Not even the Gray Lady would do this!”

“Yeah, Moony is right.” You looked up at Sirius. “I know that avoided us seemed like the best option, but avoiding a problem doesn’t make it go away; and just for the record, not eating doesn’t make a problem disappear, don’t neglect yourself like that ever again, for the love of God”

Your crying quieted down during Remus and Sirius’ speech, now you were looking into Moony’s eyes, you felt his breathing getting slightly more laboured.

“Can I kiss you, baby?” You breath hitched, and you nodded slightly.

You felt his lips press on yours, softly, the scar on his upper lip rubbing gently against you. His hands started making their descent, first on your waist, then at the small of your back, the tips of his fingers on the upper part of your ass. You licked at his lower lip, making him moan.

Suddenly, his tongue was in your mouth, and his hands were squeezing your ass, making you whimper. He then started trailing kisses down your neck, making your legs wobble. Sirius came up behind you, his arms around your waist.

“You like what Remus is doing to you, doll?” You nodded, incapable of saying a word. “Yeah? What if I did this?” Starting at the base of your neck, he started kissing and licking the part of your neck unoccupied. You were so lost in the things they were doing to you, you didn’t realise that Remus was actually giving you hickeys.

You felt Remus going away, you were not given the moment to mourn his loss because he was replaced with James, who started kissing you, his hands directly on your ass, squeezing softly and pressing you more into him.

“Okay, I think it’s best to stop this before it gets out of control” You blushed, Sirius smirking down at you.

“I think we should go cuddle in our dorm” James gently massaged your shoulders. “How was our first kiss, love?”

You felt your ears burning. “G-Good. It was good, fantastic actually”

They all laughed, leading you to the Gryffindor tower.

[notjustjavierpena]

I have recently watched scenes from a marriage with oscar isaac and my mind which connects everything with hubby javi immediately went to this:

imagine wife’s and javi’s friends are going through a divorce, there’s cheating m, miscommunication etc and just a very hard time.

I feel like Javi and Wife would have a conversation about this due to the proximity of it happening to their friends. One about trust and if they’re happy. It’s not about insecurity or anything just them both communicating effectively and giving the other reassurance that this is not on the cards for them.

I just value their relationship so much.

Reassess

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked your request slightly to fit my version of hubby and wife. Enjoy ❤️ Thanks so much for proofreading, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !!!

Summary: You and Javier’s friends are going through a divorce, and it suddenly makes you wonder about your own marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, talk about divorce, talk about cheating, brief descriptions of piv sex with creampie, hurt/comfort, love!, mention of pregnancy and pregnant reader, cuddling, kisses, Javier is a great husband and you are anxious

Word count: 1.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54352768

Reassess

Jonathan and Mira are getting a divorce. The news had been announced to you by Javier when he entered the dimly lit living room on a Thursday night, looking paler than a ghost after what you had wrongly assumed to be a same-as-always phone conversation about football, work and going out for a beer in the near future. 

“No!” You had instinctively covered your mouth with your hand to suppress an animated gasp. Apparently, Mira had come clean about seeing another man a few days earlier and it only took shy of two days for their whole marriage to crumble. The thought was and is terrifying. 

It seems to dampen the mood between you and your husband significantly. There are more pregnant silences, longer stares, more hurried kisses, and worried faces in the middle of your daily routines that become opportunities for reflection when doing something mundane as folding laundry. However, the elephant in the room becomes most unbearable when Javier rolls off of you after making love to you a week after the news hit. 

He stares up at the ceiling and pants as he tries coming down from his high, reaching up to run his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. You shift on your side of the bed to turn your body towards him, and gently lay a hand on his chest, “That was really good.”

“Hm? What?” He replies, “Oh right, yeah.”

“Honey,” you furrow your brow, “I don’t think I particularly like having sex with you if you’re not here with me.” 

“Lo siento (I’m sorry),” his eyes find yours, his voice is genuine, “I can’t stop thinking about Jon and Mira.”

Your eyes soften at that. It is nice to know that he is as shaken by this happening as you are, and in such close proximity to your own marriage too even if it technically has nothing to do with you. It suddenly hits why it has been so hard to start up a conversation about it. 

“Me either,” you sigh and scratch his chest gently with your nails and lay your head on his shoulder. He takes hold of your wrist and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in soothing circles, “I can’t believe they ended up like that, who would have thought?”

“And Ava?” Javier sounds devastated and turns his head toward yours so he can rest his lips in your hair. 

“She must be so confused,” you mumble back, lost in thought. Ava is Mira and Jonathan’s daughter who sometimes has play dates with Inés, and to think that she has to deal with her parents not being able to work as a couple, especially since Mira apparently had to go sleep with someone else, is a scenario that you find nauseating when your brain automatically starts imagining your own children in the same scenario. You don’t think Lucas would ever forgive you if you caused that much hurt to his father, “I don’t know what Mira was thinking. Ava has to deal with her mom having hurt her dad. Why would she put her through that?”

“Jonathan said she’s in love with this new guy,” Javier argues. 

“I suppose sometimes you just fall in love with someone else,” you say without any emotion in your voice except for maybe a hint of disgust. 

“Are you happy? With me?” The question has been looming over the both of you since the news hit. It was only a matter of time before one of you would start reassessing your own marriage. 

You lift your head up to look Javier straight in the eyes, and even if you knew it was coming, you still feel taken aback by how much it makes your guts turn to even be told to consider it. The answer is so clear, “What? I—“

“That’s not an immediate yes,” he furrows his brow in concern. 

“Don’t be absurd,” you say back, “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“But do you ever worry about us?” He continues. 

“This is the part where you say you love me too,” you joke without much humor in your voice. 

“Are you kidding? I’m nothing without you,” he lifts the hand you still have on his chest to kiss your palm, “Te amo tanto (I love you so much) but I need you to answer the question.”

“I don’t ever worry about us, no,” you answer truthfully and Javier visibly relaxes, “I know you. I trust you. It doesn’t even occur to me that I could have anything different in my life, you know? It feels like I would always have found you somewhere else if not here.”

“Perhaps they looked for something else when things became routine,” he suggests, resting your hand against his cheek.

“It’s never routine for me to tell you I love you,” you tell him with a little smile, “There’s no going back to the way things were before you.” 

“The idea of having anything else but this,” he trails off for a second, weighing his words and reaching out for you with his free hand. He cups the back of your knee to pull your leg over his naked body, “It’s just not in the cards for me. I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you.”

“Is this code for you’re stuck with me?” You crawl closer to kiss him on the mouth and tighten the leg around him, “Hm?”

“Sí (yes), you’re stuck with me, baby,” he says against your lips. 

“Do you promise that?” You whisper after pulling back a little, smiling softly as you look down at his mouth. He initiates another kiss after nodding. 

You kiss for a while without rushing it, deeply until you share each breath in your intense embrace. Despite just having had sex with him fifteen minutes ago, you want him again in a way that has him as hard as when you first got together. He fucks you open slowly with you on your back, makes you come on his cock with an almost pained tone in your whimper. He is everywhere on you, soaking you in love. The way he gasps along with you as he comes inside of you has your heart pounding in your chest. 

“No quiero a nadie más que a ti (I don’t want anyone else other than you),” he says when basking in the afterglow. However, you have already gotten out of bed to get cleaned up in the bathroom. In contrast to your husband, your afterglow is replaced by anxiety that you have just promised isn’t there. 

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you say while peeing with the door open. Javier moves on the bed to be able to look at you. 

“We won’t, te lo prometo (I promise you that),” he is quick to answer. You try to give him a smile but he notices the way you falter, “Anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

“They used to be so happy,” you sigh deeply and get up after finishing your business. You move to the sink and start washing your hands, your back suddenly towards him, “Makes me wonder if we're strong enough to weather anything.”

You hear the weight of him shift on the mattress and a second later, the soft pads of his feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He is behind you, looking at you in the mirror. You feel grateful for the sincerity in his eyes.

“Baby,” he tuts, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. One of his hands goes down to lay on your stomach right below your belly button. You have just started to show, and the both of you have already talked about how early it is that your belly has started protruding but none of you have any clue why yet as you haven’t had your first scan. 

Javier kisses your bare shoulder, “This is my life, and I love it, and I would never hurt you… I trust you not to hurt me too.”

You silently turn off the tap to dry your hands but Javier doesn’t let you move. He lifts your chin so he can stare at you in the mirror, “I need you to trust me when I say that ten years with you have only made me want ten, twenty, thirty more. I love you. I choose you every day. Jonathan and Mira didn’t choose each other. We’re not them.”

“I love you too,” you shake your hands dry instead and then turn in your husband’s arms. You hug him close and he walks you out of the bathroom whilst still holding you tightly. 

“Three kids so far,” he reminds you whilst guiding you back to bed, “A decade down the line. We must be doing something right.”

“But what if—“

“You worry too much, mi vida (my life),” he says and smacks your ass as you crawl back into your bed. You glare back at him but he just snickers while crawling in too, “Get comfortable and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you say truthfully.

“Of course, you can,” Javier joins you under the covers. He lays down close to you and without saying a word, reaches out to gently and repeatedly stroke his hand over your hair. The warmth of his palm soothes your worry, each caress easing away the weight in your chest. 

You wonder if Mira left because Jonathan didn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Javier has done it for ten years. This fact makes sleep find you easily.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[ashtxrie]

oh no... am i falling in love? (sunoo)

PAIR. high school!sunoo x gn!reader GENRE. fake dating au, high school au, best friends to lovers, fluff WORD COUNT. 2.2k WARNINGS. none! NOTES. first post kinda nervous!! <//3 i need a sunoo irl he is truly the greenest of green flags

you and sunoo are those friends

you’ve got that type of friendship where something clicked and suddenly you were both attached at the hip for years

because apparently having the same clear muji pencil case with the holy grail 0.5 black muji pen at the beginning of middle school meant best friends ride or die in seventh-grade culture

like, someone who prioritized aesthetics in notetaking as much as you did? even in the confines of this crusty campus? crazy.

but anyway, with you being absolutely intent on making friends, sunoo couldn’t get rid of you if he tried but pls he could never survive without you anyway... who else would he trust enough to exchange his top-tier notes with?

and since then you’ve both been best friends for life! well, ever since the +6 with the introduction of sunoo's other friends [read: the rest of enhypen...]

and at first you were super happy because new friends!

but then they kind of stopped hanging out with you in the middle of sophomore year or so and went off into their own little world

and you were a little sad

ok maybe a lot sad. devastated, even.

but that was okay because that meant you were able to meet new friends and expand your horizons! you even got the chance to focus on yourself and join some new clubs, too!

who even is sunoo anymore lmao you don’t know him

but anyway

it was junior year and you were so tired of your friends bugging you to get a s/o

“[name], why don’t you date someone?”

“you’d really hit it off with so and so, don’t you think?”

“just put yourself out there”

ರ_ರ

ayo... excuse me

so one day you just can’t take it anymore

and maybe you should’ve thought this through but... nope

you don’t pause to think things through

because life is for living in the moment hell yes yolo gang

“umm guys i’m already dating someone!”

needless to say your friends go INSANE

like who tf is [name] gatekeeping from us they’re so fake /j

so like any sane and mentally adept person, you say the first name that comes to mind

“hahaha … sunoo!”

your friends stare at you. flabbergasted, shocked, stunned beyond words.

blink blink

“but … weren’t you guys just friends”

“NO”

you’re panicking but

trust

“we’re in LOVE”

ur friends are really like ok whatever, but go off

and that is how you find yourself dragging yourself over to sunoo's fifth period and placing your hands on sunoo's shoulders

“promise me you won’t freak out”

and ofc sunoo is already freaking out

bc why are you standing in front of the ap lang classroom with this crazily determined face and forcing him to listen to you

and this is how you get into this situation

with sunoo having a literal double take and you doing your best "pls help me out i beg of you" impression

“i can’t DATE you”

what

you give sunoo your best professional face even though inside you’re ???

bc um is it that bad to date you??

you are confused???

you’ve saved sunoo thousands of times in his high school career in both academics and social standing he can afford to pretend to date you ONCE

“WHY NOT”

“BECAUSE”

...

is he being fr rn

obviously you’re not getting anywhere and you turn around to walk away, kind of annoyed

“fine then, i’ll just find someone else to date me.” shrug (dies inside).

as soon as you say that, it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and suddenly sunoo is very concerned and almost a little upset

and when you don’t notice him contemplating something, he runs in front of you and nearly knocks you over

“second thoughts?”

sunoo scowls

although it looks more like a lil pout pushing at his lips and he crosses his arms

lmao who is this and what’s happened to sunoo

you shrug and start to leave for real until sunoo reaches out to tug at your arm

“NO, NO WAIT … I’LL DO IT”

you whirl around immediately and you are needless to say, very relieved!

｡◕‿◕｡

“perfect!”

but apparently sunoo hasn’t recovered from his fall from before

bc he can’t stop rubbing his hand against his neck and his face is all blotchy and pink

kinda cute, but in a best friends way.  like wowie my best friend looks kinda adorable look at that boy go

but ofc sunoo has to ruin the special moment because he offhandedly says, “shouldn’t we have rules or something?”

rules???

RULES???

this is fake dating sunoo wdyfm rules? that's so silly goofy

“huh?”

“like … things not to do? maybe one big rule is not ruining our friendship???”

ʘ‿ʘ

oh

he kinda smart for that

“ok easy then, just don’t fall in love with me”

apparently this is the WRONG thing to say?

sunoo is RED like boy is not pink anymore his cheeks are burning red

“you can’t just say that?”

????

you are confused bc what does that even mean

“why not?”

“that’s like ...  y-you you can’t just say that.”

you are, if possible, even more confused?

“okay and?”

sunoo blinks

pls this boy has the audacity to just shrug

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

u are dumb af sunoo bout to throw hands here

but he won’t bc he loves u <3

so fifteen minutes later you guys decide to make three big rules

sunoo had a whole list of like twenty but you narrowed it down to these:

1. don’t ruin ur friendship

2. no kissing

3. and ur paying for three rounds of mint choco ice cream after this is over

honestly you think this is kinda rude considering sunoo is richer than ur entire life but whatever, at least he’s not leaving you out to the wolves

so when it’s finally time to put this fake dating thing to the test, you tug sunoo over to your side of the table during lunch and make sure to swing his hand

which actually feels kind of nice??

like you’ve never actually thought about this before

but sunoo is comforting

his hand fits right in yours, and he’s so warm

and i mean haha it’s not like this is a new thing, you two hold hands all the time!! but adjkaldjkfl not in a dating way

ur friends are shocked. bamboozled.

like they never thought you’d actually show up with a DATE

and bc they’re all RUDE they grill sunoo

but sunoo is best boy

best bf

and answers all their questions like a pro

that's my man

i mean what???

ur so proud

you let ur head rest against sunoo's shoulder and BITCH

sunoo presses a kiss to ur forehead

YO........................ insane.

why are u so happy? what is this??

it’s just so gentle and soft and you feel your heart getting all mushy and warm

your friends all give a big collective aww because one, they’re annoying af and yes y’all are cute cute and this is cute

but ur going through some existential crisis

and later when you’re walking with sunoo to all your classes, you can’t stop thinking that hey, this fakedating thing isn’t that bad

but whatever it’s just cause u miss spending time with sunoo!

yes, that’s it!

you’re just sad that sunoo always hangs out with his new group and you don’t get to see him as much

so this is nice!

you’re just going through some bff nostalgia rn... it's just gonna take some time for [name].exe to start working again

anyway now bc of this fakedating thing, you and sunoo just spend so much time together

like you guys have always been best friends, but this feels different

sunoo will run over to you when he sees you and wrap his arms around your waist

the first time he did it, he had the cuteness to go “is this okay? are you okay? is this too much?"

and YOUR HEART WENT !!!!!

you might’ve blushed

okay you did

but you convince yourself it’s just because ur touch starved and bitchless

c’mon... get it together

but whenever you call sunoo and wave at him, his face just LIGHTS up

and you’re pretty sure yours does too

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

needless to say, you kinda don’t want this all to end

because somewhere in the middle of all this, your head has gone from calling sunoo your fake boyfriend to your real boyfriend

and you don’t really want to go back to just being friends if you’re honest

wait hold up

uh oh

UH OH CODE RED

INTERPOL INTERPOL.....

did you just admit you liked sunoo?? in a FOR REALS way?

UMMMMM

so like the only way you know how to deal with things, you avoid it!

you start to act really distant

and now whenever sunoo wraps his arms around you, you stiffen up

and sunoo like the angel he is pulls away so quickly bc ?? is his best friend upset? uncomfortable?

did HE make his best friend for life, his 4lifer, uncomfortable? omg this isn’t ok what is happening

everyone can tell something is up

ofc they can, what with you going to the extent of running away whenever you see sunoo and sunoo reacting like the entire light got blown out his life

and bffr sunoo may be innocent but he ISN'T dumb

he knows your schedule he KNOWS you’re ignoring him

and baby is upset

because lately you’ve been starting to feel a lot more to him

and now you’re just gone??

that’s not okay and sunoo isn’t just gonna sit around and be sad

if there’s something he can do he’s gonna do all he can to try to fix it!

he corners you one day and holds up an angry piece of paper

“excuse me but you broke rule number one which is, in case you forgot, don’t RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP”

“oh haha uh sunoo! hi uhh i gotta go 👉👉 ”

sunoo's face falls

and that was it

you just wanna hold his cheeks and tell him things are fine and that you love him

wait WHAT

but sunoo is still staring at you with that wounded look

like you’ve just ripped up his heart and torn it to shreds

bc that’s kinda what you’re doing

omg what’ve you done

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

“sunoo…”

his eyes lock onto yours so fast that you’re afraid he’s got whiplash

your mouth goes dry, and for a few moments it’s hard to talk

but you finally manage to tell him that “i don’t think we should fake date anymore.”

sunoo's face breaks

his eyes go wide, and it looks like he wants to stagger. and he almost does, just a little bit

“is it something i did?”

WHAT

this boy

kim sunoo is really gonna be the death of you

you’re shaking your head back and forth so fast because NO of course not of course this isn’t his fault

sunoo is Not Okay, and he looks so, so concerned for you. “because i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. if i screwed up just tell me and i can fix it, [name], please”

you shake ur head, already starting to panic.  “of course not.  it’s not YOU sunoo. i just can’t fake date you because--”

you clamp your hands over your mouth

“because?” sunoo prompts, his voice careful

you just shake your head, already starting to turn and run back to somewhere, anywhere because this is stupid and you’re scared

terrified, actually

but sunoo just takes your hand and tugs you backward a bit, almost like a scene from a movie

you do that little twirl back and are face to face with the one and only

“do you … do you like me?” sunoo asks

that’s it

it’s out

you’re ready for your entire friendship with sunoo to come crashing down

“do you?” he repeats softly

you try to pull away but sunoo isn’t having it

he’s still holding onto your hand, gently, of course, and his eyes are boring into yours

you’re too scared to look because you’re afraid of what you’ll find

but when you can’t take it anymore and finally tilt your head up you realize something important

because his eyes aren’t full of disgust

in fact, that’s further from the truth

kim sunoo is staring at you with the biggest heart eyes you’ve ever seen and you’re confused as to how you’ve never seen this sooner

it’s almost like you’re his whole world, and now you can’t fucking breathe

is this real? chat is this fr rn??

your heart’s pounding in your chest so fast and there’s something bursting at your lungs

you nod faintly.  “yes. i like you”

the huge grin that spreads across sunoo's face is everything

he rushes forward to pull you into a gigantic hug, even lifting you up a little as he spins you around and lets out a little happy noise

“i’ve liked you forever, [name], i can’t believe this is real”

what

so u could’ve been dating sunoo before??

“you dork why didn’t you tell me?”

“because you didn’t like me like that!”

BITCH WHAT

“well maybe i was confused” you pipe back

sunoo just laughs, burying his head in your shoulder.  “i’m so happy right now.”

and honestly ?

so are you !!

[getosbigballsack]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒑𝒆

𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇. 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒙... 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒖 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: 𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈: @venussyy and @legbouk.

𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆✰

𝑾𝑪: 9.7𝑲

𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚❤︎

It’s embarrassing, to say the least. But a part of you should have at least expected something like this from the man to whom you decided to give your whole heart and devote the rest of your life. 

He hated you. He loathed you. He told you that you’re useless. He told you that he regretted marrying a barren woman. So what sense does it make if you cry now? Crying won’t change a damn thing. Why are you wasting your tears on someone who cared little for your existence?

Oh! That’s right, the answer is simple, you loved him, and despite all that he had done to you, all the unforgiving nasty words he spouted to you daily. You loved him because he was all you had when you decided to leave your family in the States, just to have a fresh and new start in life. He took care of you and helped you complete your college degree in law all in exchange for being his beautiful wife who would bear him children in the near coming future. 

Yeah! You owed him that much. 

But sadly you weren’t able to give him all that he wanted from you. You were his wife yes, but a mother of his children? No, you failed to give him a child despite being pregnant by him a couple of times. Yeah, life just decided that it wanted to LIFE and took your kids away. 

No one could have prepared you for the multiple miscarriages that you had and even worse when you found out that you had fibroids (uterine myoma). You were devastated to know that the reason you were unable to have kids was that you had a tumor that had been growing inside of you. 

Life is just so funny at times. But anyway. Despite all of that being bad news, you were able to do surgery to have that fibroid removed and you were happy that you were able to have children again. But happy moments don’t always last forever. 

Ha! Life took its turn to be cruel to you and somehow you had to be diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. Yeah, what a fucking life you had. So now you had to get all your eggs removed and as a result of that, you were unable to have kids. 

We all know what happened after that right? You fell into depression, you felt as if you had nothing else to give because not only did you fail as a woman, you failed as a wife as well. And your husband made that statement pretty clear to you. 

Because once he found out that you weren’t going to be able to have kids, his attitude toward you changed. And instead of loving you, consoling you, and assuring you that what happened to you wasn’t your fault, he made it a daily mission to remind you that you were useless to him.

He made it his duty to remind you that you were a failure. 

He made it his goal to remind you that you only had one job to do to repay him for all he had done for you, and you failed. 

You failed him as a wife. 

You failed him as a woman. 

You failed to become the mother of his children. 

The children that you never had. Yeah, he blamed you for that too. He blamed you for all your miscarriages, he told you that you killed his kids. Such shame. You’re lucky he never served you with divorce papers. Wow!

As a result of this, he distanced himself from you and buried himself in work just to stay away from you. And despite how badly you were hurting, you still cared for this man. 

You still managed to play your part as his wife and smile throughout the pain just to show him that you still appreciated all that he had done for you. 

That’s all you can do, accept his cruelty and show your appreciation hoping that one day, things or life would be better for you. But instead of getting better, it got worse because now you had to sit in front of the television inside the new apartment complex you moved into a few months ago, watching something that will forever haunt you for the day to come. 

“Now for today’s hot topic. District Attorney Saijo Takeda was Caught having sex with a stripper inside xxx strip and it is said that he allegedly got this stripper pregnant. WOW! Who would have thought that the self-proclaimed family man who does something so scandalous and distaste behind his wife’s back? I feel so bad for Saijo Y/N.” 

Life just kept getting worse for you. 

… 

“How could you do this to me?” you screamed at your husband who was just sitting around the kitchen bar swirling the whiskey around in his cup. “You cheated on me and got a stripper pregnant?”

He scoffed, “So what if I did that hm? What if cheated and got another woman pregnant? How is that any of your business?” 

“It’s my business because I am your wife, Takeda. I’m your wife.” you cried. You could feel the slight sting in your chest, your heart aching and tearing up inside from all the regret and betrayal that you’re feeling. 

“Whatever,” he responded, not caring if your cheeks were flustered, eyes swelled from the number of tears you cried, and how much your lips trembled. He turned his back to you and continued to sip on his whiskey. 

You were in pain. “I know you hate me. But you didn’t need to do this to me. After all that I’ve been through. Losing all four of our kids and having to carry that burden on my own. I don’t deserve this.” 

“And whose fault is it?” your husband screamed, tossing the empty cup towards you and it shattered at your bare feet. “Who’s damn fault, is it? You killed all four of my unborn children with that useless body of yours.”

“I’m not useless,” you cried. “I’m not useless. I don’t deserve this. I tried my best.”

“Oh for fuck sake,” he chuckled as he stood up from around the kitchen island and walked towards you. “You useless fucking bitch. You tried your best my ass. You know, instead of complaining, you should be happy you know.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, you should be happy that I finally found someone capable enough to give me a child,” he said, smiling down at you. Your lips quivered as you stared up into his unremorseful eyes. “Unlike a certain someone.” 

“Don’t say that to me,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I don’t deserve to be treated like this Tak…”

“Shut up. It’s your fault I cheated and there’s no taking it back now hm?” He said before lifting his hand to pat your flustered cheek. “Now clean this up. Have dinner ready by the time I come back and while you’re at it, I suggest you read a couple of articles online on how to care for a pregnant woman. I have a baby on the way,” and with that said he left. 

He left you standing there with your thoughts and his final words. It was then you knew that your husband truly hated you. He cheated on and did not have one ounce of guilt in him. And then he dared to blame his infidelity on you and lastly, he told you that you were going to have to take care of that woman he got pregnant. 

You felt defeated and so small. You were done, life had finally won. It took everything that you had. 

“Why me?” you cried as you bent down to pick up the broken glasses from the floor. “I don’t deserve this.”

Meanwhile, 

Your neighbors who heard the entire argument sighed heavily as they walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. 

“Bastard,” The youngest of the pair mumbled as he sat on the sofa and ran his thick fingers through his long black mane. “Damning Bastard. How dare he cheat on his wife and then blame it all on her.” 

“He has no shame! He has a whole ass sex tape out in the public and he got a stripper pregnant. Shameless bastard.” The eldest one of the pair cursed as he took his place on the sofa as well. “I just want to slap the holy fuck out of him.”

“I want to cut his dick off and maybe pluck his eyes out because it seems as if he had no use for it.”

“Sugu?” 

“What, Satoru?” he asked. His friend gave him a knowing look and he sighed. “Whatever.”

“Do you think we should call her?” the eldest one asked. 

“No,” the youngest said while shaking his head. “Give her a bit of space. The last thing she needs right now is for her neighbors to see her like that. You know how Y/N is.” 

“You’re right. Well if she needs us she’ll call us right?” 

“Maybe,” Geto said. Just then he heard his phone ringing on the coffee table and when they both looked they saw your name flashing on the screen. “I guess she needs us then.” 

“Answer it!” Gojo said and Geto did. “Hello?”

“Suguru-Kun, can you and Satoru-kun come over, please? I need you.” 

…

Geto Suguru: 22 years of age. He’s quiet and a bit shy. Then there’s Gojo Satoru: 23 years of age. He’s a bit loud and he’s a great listener. 

You may be wondering what the relationship is between Gojo, Geto, and Y/N-chan. Well, there isn’t too much to say about how you met because the meeting wasn’t anything special. You just happened to run into them a week after you moved into your new apartment. You just happened to be struggling with the groceries that day and they just happened to be coming home from school to see you struggling to take the bags out of the trunk while your husband sat in the driver’s seat impatiently waiting for you to hurry up. 

They realized that you needed help and offered it to you. You took it and promised that you’d pay them back one day and eventually, you did.

You just happened to cook a meal for you and your husband that day, but instead of coming home, he told you that he had a business dinner and he wouldn’t be home until the morning. You remembered sighing heavily that day because you were feeling a bit sad and you honestly did not want to eat alone. So you invited them over to have dinner with you and let’s just say you three became extremely close. 

They’d come over to keep you company when your husband’s not home. They would offer to take you out to the supermarket to help with groceries on the weekend. They’d comfort you whenever you argued with your husband. They were just there when you needed someone to be there for you. And as the months past you three have gotten so close, you’ve kinda started to feel a bit needy whenever they were in your presence. But you didn’t think too much about it because you were married. Sure they were young, hot, and very much good looking, but you’re a whole married woman. 

You loved your husband despite him hating you. 

You didn’t want to betray him, even as your desires for them grew stronger for them. You loved your husband. But now, betraying him doesn’t seem like a bad idea. 

… 

After answering your call, Geto and Gojo rushed inside your flat to provide you with the comfort you required. You threw yourself into Geto's arms as soon as they entered your apartment, crying your heart out against his chest. Geto wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug before lifting you in his arms and walking to the sofa, with Gojo close behind. 

“I just can’t believe that he would do something like this to me,” you cried against Geto’s shoulder as he held your frail and worn-out body in his lap. “I… Can’t believe it. I tried my best Suguru-Kun. I’ve done nothing but be right by him. But no… my best is not enough. In his eyes, I’m nothing but a worthless woman and maybe I am.” 

“Don’t say that about yourself Y/N,” Gojo hushed in a soft tone as he edged closer to Geto and rested his hand on your back in an attempt to comfort you. 

“But he's right!,” you screamed against Geto’s shoulders. 

"And I'm telling you that he isn't," Gojo stated, moving his hand away from your back and pulling your head away from Geto's shoulder to look you in the eyes. "Your husband is a worthless piece of garbage. He cheated on you." 

They both watched as tears streamed down your puffy flushed cheeks and your lips quivered as you said, "But I'm the reason he cheated. He wouldn't have cheated on me if I could become pregnant."

“Y/N?” 

"He cheated on me because I murdered our children. I killed our babies," you squealed, collapsing onto Geto's shoulders. "He's right! With this useless body of mine, I killed all four of our unborn children. If I could only..." 

“Enough!” Geto eventually said something. He hadn't said anything since you pushed yourself into his arms. He believed it would be best to remain silent while you sobbed, but he couldn't stand hearing you talk so badly of yourself any longer. He'd had enough of it. “What a fucking dickward!” he cursed. 

“Bastard!,” Gojo mumbled. 

"For someone smart, he's much dumber than I think. Allow me to tell you something. It is not your fault if you lost your children. It's not your fault you can't have children anymore," Geto murmured, pulling you away from his shoulders. “You didn’t ask for any of that did you? Instead of blaming you for all your miscarriages Y/N, he should be thankful that his wife survived cancer." 

Oh, yeah they knew about this. You've told them about it.

"Exactly! So what if you're not able to have children anymore? It doesn't make you any less of a woman," Gojo butted in. "Besides, if he wanted a child so badly, I'm pretty sure they're plenty of adoption centers here. And if it is that he wanted to have a blood-related child then maybe he could have had a conversation with you about getting a surrogate instead of going behind your back and getting another woman pregnant." 

"He's an ass Y/N and clearly he doesn't understand that what he's doing to you is cruel. I agree with you, you've done your best and your best is enough," Geto said smiling before using his thumb to wipe the tear away from your cheek. 

"But it's not enough for him," you whispered. 

"And who fucking cares?" Gojo asked. "All that matters is that you've done your best. It might not be enough for him but it is for us and for anyone who saw that you tried your best. Four times is enough and I'm here to tell you that you did a good job trying."

Somehow you managed to crack a smile. 

"You're beautiful Y/N. Your husband doesn't even know how lucky he is to score a beautiful woman like you," Geto whispered as he pulled you into a tight hug. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Agreed!" Gojo whispered. You both sat down in silence for a while until Gojo spoke up. "You should divorce him. You don't need trash like him in your life anyway. You deserve someone who has nothing but sweet words to whisper in your ear." 

"You deserve someone who will hold you in their arms," Geto chimed in. "You deserve a man who'd respect you and treat you with nothing but kindness." 

"You don't need a man who dares to embarrass you like that. The bastard has no fucking shame. He has a whole sex tape and got a woman pregnant. Divorce that shameless bastard."

"You deserve to be treated like a queen. Satoru is right, you should divorce." 

It's true, you knew that that was the best option, but you knew who your husband was. 

"If only getting a divorce was that easy," you said in a soft tone. "My husband is the one who took care of me all these years. I don't have money to get an attorney for a divorce." 

Gojo and Geto sighed heavily before exchanging glances. 

"Besides, even if I had money to get a divorce it probably wouldn't be in my favour. Please remember that my husband's pretty famous and even though he's trash I'm pretty sure his attorney would back him up to the very end. He would win the case and I would lose everything," you said, sighing heavily as you laid your head against Geto's chest. "I just wish my life were easy." 

There was a long moment of silence; both Geto and Gojo were deep in their thoughts just thinking about what you just said about your husband and getting a divorce. They knew that getting a divorce won't be easy. 

Getting a lawyer to help you file a complaint against your husband will be simple for Gojo, but he also understood that what you claimed was accurate. Even yet, your husband would find a way to triumph. If only everything were that simple. I wish it were that. 

"Wait Y/N, I think I know how I can help you with your divorce," Gojo said as a smile slowly crept up on his face. 

"Really?" You asked. 

"Yeah. You may not like the idea but it's probably our best shot. And it'll be fun for you, Sugu, and myself," Gojo explained before turning to look at Geto once again. 

"I wanna hear it then." 

"Let's make a sex tape." 

… 

A sex tape of your own. That was Gojo's idea. You were a bit upset that he suggested that created a sex tape to get back at your husband. You didn't want to follow in his footsteps, but when Gojo sat down and explained himself to you, you started to figure out why making that tape made sense to him. He even went as far as to explain that if you went along with the sex tape, he’d take care of everything that happens after he passed the tape on to your husband.

Plus he admits that he wanted to be with you for a while. He told you that he always wanted to have sex with you, especially when you accidentally told both of them that your husband hadn't had sex with you in a while. 

Geto also admits that he too wanted to be inside of you, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to make that move because we'll you're married. 

You were shocked, to say the least, but you weren't that much better than them. You too had desires to be with them. 

Anyways, you still didn't like the idea of sex, but after thinking it through… you agreed to it and that's how you ended up here naked on your bed with a camera filming you three having the most amazing sex ever. 

Present Timeline. 

Their hands felt hot and warm against your skin. Calloused hands roughly groping your breast and your butt; their lips hungrily biting and sucking against your skin while just laying there with lips slightly parted and your eyes staring dead at the camera.

You allowed a soft moan to escape your lips when Gojo bit onto your perky nipple - his warm and wet tongue licking around your areola while his finger slowly crept down and rested above your pussy. 

“Shit,” you whispered, your head turning slightly to see Geto smiling at you while he slowly untied the string of his sweatpants. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked as he slowly pulled down the waist of his sweats and underpants to free his aching cock. He watched as your eyes slowly averted their gaze from his eyes and to his cock. “Hm?”

“She’s excited Su!” Gojo said before pulling away from your nipple and slowly kissing his way up to your lips. “She hadn’t gotten any dick in months. You must be excited not to be only getting one but two. Isn’t that right, pretty mama?” 

You bit your lips and batted your eyes at him before shaking your head yes. He chuckled and teased your lips with light kisses that were driving you mad. “Satoru-Kun, please kiss me,” you begged. 

You could feel his hot breath on your lips as he laughed at you for begging him to kiss you. But you're adorable, and adorable females deserve to be adored. With that said, his lips fell on yours, kissing you slowly and passionately. His lips slid between yours as if they were intended for each other, slowly sucking out every last breath you had until you were left with none. 

His kisses were so intense that it felt as though he wanted you and him to be closer, sharing a single breath and drifting away into everlasting bliss. Your cheeks began to feel a bit heated as his tongue slipped between your lips to caress your tongue with his. Fuck! That felt fantastic, you thought as you drew away from his lips, tilted your head in another direction, and swiftly latched your lips on his again, allowing his tongue to brush the inside of your mouth in a delectable and thrilling manner. 

“Mhm… I’m getting jealous,” Geto whispered into your ears. You didn’t even feel him switch from his seated position until his fingers were under your chin, slowly pulling your lips away from Gojo's lips and then turning your head towards his. “I want to kiss your sexy lips too,” he whispered before roughly capturing your lips. Unlike Gojo, it felt as if Geto wanted to own your lips and claim them in every way possible. 

With your mouth open, his tongue slipped into your mouth; his tongue hungrily exploring what you had to offer him. Your hand flew up to grip his long, silky-smooth black hair between your fingers to keep him pressed against your lips. Your tongues sparred back and forth like wrestlers, but he was quick to dominate you, overpower you with his rough, yet passionate kiss. 

Your body felt hot all over and God, you loved that feeling. On the other hand, as you continued to kiss Geto, Gojo busied his lips on your body. His mouth leaves butterfly kisses on your neck, your chest, around your breast, then slowly moving down to your tummy until his mouth was directly on your pussy. 

“Fuck it,” he said as he grabbed your legs spread them apart, and went to lay between them. He then tossed both legs over his shoulders and licked his lips while he lined his face up with your cunt. “You gotta keep that pretty mouth of hers full while I eat her out Su!” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Geto said in between kissing your lips. “Just do what you do best.” Gojo chuckled a bit while he kissed both your thighs before his tongue laid flat on your clit, moaning out loud from how good your pussy tasted. “Taste good Toru?” 

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against your cunt. Gojo’s tongue swiftly licked your cunt, as he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you steady as he prepared himself to feast upon you, the woman he had his eyes on for a while. “Too bad her husband won’t get to taste you anymore hm?”

“Once he sees how much of a good girl you are for us, he’ll probably have to ask us to fuck you again,” Geto whispered as he pulled away from your lips, trail kisses down your neck, and onto your breast to suck on your pretty boobs. 

Meanwhile, Gojo's tongue dragged between your folds, collecting your secretions on his tongue as he moved his tongue fast on your cunt before grasping your clit in his mouth. "Mh mm feel so good," you cried as your hand reached out to play with Gojo's hair, and he hummed in response to your compliment.  

The sound of Gojo eating your pussy was so lewd, but you couldn't help but listen as his tongue gilded against your moist cunt, or as his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit that was beginning to swell in his mouth. He sounded like a hungry man who was eager to feast on you. 

You tried to ride your pussy on his face, but the grips he had on your thighs kept you in place as his mouth and tongue mapped out your pussy, memorising your sweet folds and engraving it within his memory. 

“Looks like you're having too much fun with Toru, sweety,” Geto whispered in your ear before grabbing your chin with his rough hand and turning your face towards him. “I wanna have some fun too.” 

“What… Do you want… ugh me to do?” you moaned out at the feeling of Gojo’s wicked tongue finding itself buried deeply inside your hole. 

“Open your mouth,” is all Geto said before sitting up on his knees, grabbing his dick, and giving it a few pumps before pressing the angry red leaking tip on your lips. “Open up and suck it for me, like the good girl we know you are.” 

Who are you to disobey him? After all these past few moments he treated you better than your husband ever did. So this is the least you could do for him. So you opened up your mouth for him and allowed him to thrust his thick heavy cock inside your hot little mouth. 

“Fuck, Geto hissed and tossed his back; his hand finding purchase at the back of your head to keep you steady while he gently rocked his hip to move his cock in and out of your mouth. “Yeah, that’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” 

Gojo's lips quickly detached from your cunt, but his fingers took their place, plunging deeply inside your cunt to keep that sensation he built up with his mouth going. “I wanna fucking see this,” Gojo said, a smirk dancing on his lips as he stared at your pretty mouth stretching so beautifully around Geto’s dick. “As sweet as your pussy is, I wanna see you choke on a big fucking dick.”

You hummed around his cock as he continued to thrust his hips in and out of your mouth, watching as your throat slowly expanded to take as much of his cock as possible. He was fucking huge, and your jaw started to ache from how much he was stretching your mouth open. You tried to pull away, but the grip he had in your hair kept you in place, Ain’t no freaking way, you were about to lift your head from his cock. 

“No… no, bad mama,” Gojo said before pulling out his finger to pinch your clit. “Be a good girl yeah, and let him use your throat,” then he thrust his finger back inside your cunt and began applying pressure to your freaking g-spot. 

Geto on the other hand was over to fucking moon, his head filling up with pleasure that he was receiving from your mouth. “So fucking beautiful. You sucking my cock so well.”

“Mhm,” you moaned around his length when you feel his cock stretching your mouth even impossibly wider. Your eyes began to roll to the back of your head once more, and tears began to flow from them. His low groans and gentle moans told you how lost he was in pleasure as he used your lips to lubricate his cock. 

"Put your tongue out," he urged, removing his cock from your mouth. You opened your mouth for him blindly and put your tongue out. "Just like that," he murmured as he touched his cock on your mouth and saw saliva drip from the tip of your tongue. He rubbed his cock against your tongue before pushing your head forward and shoving his balls inside your mouth. 

You sucked long, forceful lips on his massive sack, muttering. Your tongue crept up carefully, licking the line between his balls. "Fuck, baby," he murmured as he pumped his cock and watched you suck on his balls beautifully.

“Your so beautiful mama,” Gojo whispered as he continued to soak in the sight in front of him as he continued to stretch you open with his fingers. His mouth watered, penis twitching beneath his underpants as he watched how your tongue worked itself on the underside of Geto’s cock. Giggling whenever he hears those gurgling choking sounds spewing from your mouth. “So fucking beautiful with Su’s cock stuffed inside your mouth. 

A choking gasp from your lips before you began to gag hard around Geto's cock as his hips sped to piston his cock deep into your throat. Each time he drew out and shoved back into your mouth, his thrust became rougher. He sighed as he looked down at you, seeing your iris roll to the back of your head. Only your sclera was visible to your eyes. 

His cock twitched violently inside your mouth, and he felt his ball tighten. He was almost there, but not quite there yet. Not until tonight, when they had you cumming from their cocks. So he quickly withdrew his cock out of your mouth and watched as saliva escaped from your mouth and formed a tiny puddle on his lap. 

Your eyes widened and you were desperately grasping for air at the feeling of Gojo’s fingers thrusting even faster than he was before. “Oh fuck… oh fuck,” you cried. 

"Gonna make you cum before I fuck you," Gojo whispered as your pussy wrapped around his fingers. They weren't as thick, but they were long enough to feel deep inside your stomach. Gojo suddenly thumbed at your pussy clit while inserting another finger into your gaping hole. Your body stiffened, with heat and pressure filling the pit of your tummy. "You gonna cum for me, mama?" He inquired as his thumb circled your clit at an undeniable speed. 

Your arousal began to flow down his hands. Your stomach began to burn and strain against the increasing pressure and heat. Your orgasm is just waiting to let loose. 

“Fuck, Imma cum” you screamed as your pussy gripped tightly onto his fingers. 

"Let me have it!" The low pitch of Gojo's voice was all the encouragement you needed. Your climax was approaching. You yelled, your body gripped, painfully arching your back from Geto's lap and slumping back on his shoulders. "Oh fuck... look at that slutty pussy squirt for me," Gojo cooed as he watched the translucent liquid spurt from your pussy. He then removed his fingers from your cunt, laid on his tummy yet again, and started sucking on your clit to make you squirt a little more. 

Your thighs were shaking like crazy beside his head, fingers digging into the mattress and somehow on Geto’s thighs. You’ve never felt this freaking good before, your body felt like it was floating into an eternal bliss of euphoria, ain’t no way you could look to your cheating husband for sex. 

“Mhm… fuck gonna squirt all over his face baby?” Geto teased, his fingers finding leverage on your nipples. Your head nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence from your mouth due to your mind being numb with pleasure. 

Gojo chuckled against your pussy, his fingers pumping inside your pulsating hole once more. “More,” he muttered against your wet flesh. “More…. Give me… oh shit,” he quickly pulled his head away from your cunt. “Yes… I bet your hubby can’t make you squirt like we do huh?” Gojo chuckled as you squirted all over his chest. He pulled his finger from your cunt yet again, and he unexpectedly slapped your clit, not once, not twice but three times before pulling back to look at his fingers that were coated with your pussy juice. 

“You're so sexy. Cumming for us like that, all slutty over Toru’s fingers” Geto muttered before leaning forward to kiss your lips. A chuckle escaped Gojo's lips as he licked his fingers clean as his other hand quickly removed his underpants. Geto, on the other hand, drew you up off his lap and pressed your back against his chest. He then grabbed both of your legs, spread them wide, and forced your knees against your chest. 

You gulped as you watched as Gojo ran his fingers through his hair. He gently stroked his cock as he stared down at your dripping, aching cunt and whispered, “You gonna be a good girl and take this cock mama.”

“Come on, Satoru! Can’t you see how much her naughty pussy is clenching and dripping with her arousal, just waiting for you to fuck her?” Geto asked as he stared down at your pretty pussy. “Don’t keep our baby waiting, Toru.”

And with that said he wasted no time, moving closer to you held on to the back of your left knee before slowly plunging his aching cock into your hole. 

"Ugh fuck Satoru," you hissed, feeling every vein of his cock brushing against your spongy walls as he continued to plunge deeper inside your fluttering cunt. Your lips trembled, fingers gripping onto Geto’s thighs when Gojo finally bottomed out. "Full…" you muttered. 

You've never felt so full in your life; even your ex-boyfriends before your spouse never did fill you up like this. Let's face it, your husband's cock wasn't the best, but as his wife, you did your best to accept what he had to offer because, after all, he'd been taking care of you for 5 years. 

Now that you've had a taste of Gojo's cock, you're wondering what else you've been missing out on in life. You didn't have much time to consider when the girth of Gojo's cock stretched and ripped your pussy wide when he pulled out and plunged back in. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, nail digging deeper into Geto’s muscular thighs as the raven hair man spread your trembling legs a bit wider for Gojo to see the damage he was about to do to that pretty pussy of yours. 

"Do you like that mama?" he questioned, sighing as he started stroking his cock at a frantic pace, the tip of his swollen cock head kissing your cervix, his heavy balls slapping against your moist cunt with every deep and sharp thrust of his hips.

"So... fucking good," you exclaimed, licking your lips as your eyes rolled back to look at Gojo, who was already staring at you. "So deep." 

This is such a new experience for you. 

You had your young and undeniably hot neighbors into your house on the bed you shared with your husband, with a camera at the end of the bed filming you being fucked by them. Your body felt like it was on fire, all the pleasure you were feeling from Gojo pouring into your mind at once. 

You could feel him, his thick meaty cock snuggling up against the wet soaking wall of your cunt feeding you that pleasure that your body had so longed for. The tip of his swollen cock, pressing down onto your g-spot with every pull and drag, felt as if you could cum at any moment now. 

You felt amazing, your body and your mind swimming in the clouds right now. Having sex felt good and it’s a pity that you never knew that sex could have handled this well. 

You moaned out, Geto cooing at the sweet sound that escaped your lips and your eyes rolled to the back of your head yet again and smiled. “Oh fuck you love this aren’t you?” Geto asked as he released your left thigh, leaving Gojo to apply more pressure against your leg while his nibble fingers went to play with your nipples. 

“Her pussy is so fucking wet and warm too,” Gojo grunted before leaning forward pushing all your body weight against Geto to kiss your lips. His wet muscle pushed past your lips, licking up all that you had to offer to him while he swallowed up your moans. your back arched; moaning when you felt Geto’s fingers pinched at your nipple, slowly rolling the aching bud between his fingers.

Then you felt Geto's lips against your ear, nibbling at the lobe then he whispered, “Mr. Sajio never fuck so good before huh?” 

“No… no…” you answered without even realising that did so. This made Gojo smile as he was quick to pull away from your lips and used his right hand to wrap around your neck to keep you locked down on Geto’s chest. He raised his body slightly to tilt his cock to thrust deeper than he was already. You screamed, your hand moving from Geto’s leg to wrap around Gojo’s neck and your head suddenly tilted to get a view of Gojo’s cock working your cunt deliciously. Your spouse had never been this deep within you before, and it felt amazing. 

Sweat poured from the sides of your brows, tears streamed down your fat cheeks, and your teeth bit harshly at your swollen lips. "Put her legs up on my shoulder," Gojo pleaded, and Geto obliged. When his cock made your pussy tremble, you screamed once again. Your toes curled under, and your thigh muscles spasmed.

Fuck! You felt like you were in sex heaven. 

“Look into the camera mama,” Gojo whispered and you were so quick to do as you were told. “That’s it, let him see. let him see how much my cock has you weeping like a whining slut.” Then he kissed your forehead before averting his gaze to Geto who was just smiling at him. 

Gojo then groaned, eyes still piercing into Geto's when felt his cock coated with your juices trickling from your quivering hole, and the bed sheets underneath you. "So good," you exclaimed as your pussy gripped and sucked him back in any time he tried to pull away. "Fuck me harder please!"

“Anything for you mama,” Gojo whispered, thrusting even harder and squeezing your throat a bit to get that feeling and pleasure rush straight to your head. White lights began to obscure your eyesight as you exclaimed loudly. Your body lurched from the bed once more but was swiftly dragged back down by the hand around your neck, and he thrust more fiercely.

“Yes, that it fuck… mhmm... Fuck,” you cried your heels digging into Gojo’s back to keep your hips grounded as you tried to move against him to meet his every thrust. 

A low chuckle from his lips as his hand tightened around your throat and he pushed his lips against your cheek as he slowly drew out, "Let me do the work. If you keep moving like that, I might have to breed you," he said as he slammed back into your bruised hole.

Another scream was pulled from your lips as your body spasmed beneath him, your pussy squeezing as you creamed around his shaft. "Don’t stop, keep going. I’m gonna cum soon," you yelled, your thighs quivering as he delved deeper, but he didn't stop, instead speeding up.

The sound of his balls slapping against your wet pussy increased your arousal, and your pussy continued to flood with your sticky, allowing him to slip deeper within your warm hole. "Mhmm," he muttered, his mouth coming down to meet yours, tongue shoving past your lips, kissing you haphazardly. 

With each deep, powerful thrust, your body twitches. Your tits are bouncing well for them. Even in your current state, you're breathtakingly lovely. “Yes… so good!” you babbled breathlessly. Gojo smiled against your lips and pulled to rest his forehead against yours. 

"Fuck, mama, keep squeezing me like that and I'll make you cum all over my cock," Gojo said in hushed tones. He grunted as he snapped his hips at an unnaturally fast pace, causing the bed to creak and knock against the walls. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and he could tell that you were about to cum too because you were tightening and creaming even more around his cock.

Your wrist and fingers tightened around his neck, your eyes closed, and you exhaled, "I... cum." He grunts, his hand leaving your neck and rubbing his finger across your aching nub, nudging you closer to your climax.

You screamed losing your mind entirely as you lost yourself in the sheer delight of your climax, and he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his hips never slowing down as he chased his. "Ah, yes, keep coming like that, I'm almost there," Gojo murmured, looking up to see Geto buried in his pleasure.

“Hurry up and fucking cum Satoru,” Geto purred and that alone was enough to send Gojo off the end. His cock twitched as the spurt of his thick cum painted your walls deliciously. He kissed your swollen lips yet again as he continued to release his semen inside your hole. 

“Fuck… that was good,” Gojo moaned as he pumped slowly inside you. “Mh… You gonna let Sugu fuck your pussy now with my cum still dripping from you while I get your ass ready?” 

“Yes… Hurry,” you whined against his lips. 

He was fast to back away from you, softly removing his cock from your cum filled pussy. Before you could even think, you were laying on top of Geto's chest, your legs at each side of his hip and his cock poking at your cum filled entrance. "I'm sorry, baby... But I can't keep waiting much longer. I've been waiting for this," Geto sighed as he grasped both of your ass cheeks, parted them, and slowly impaled you with his cock. 

Your eyes bulge out of your head, your jaw sagged, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as pleasure and pain surge through your body. Your body collapsed onto his, your face quickly hiding in the crock of his neck as the younger of the two slowly lifted your hips by using your ass to gently ease you off his cock. You could feel it, those thick prominent veins on his cock and his mushroom tip sliding against your walls. 

Your body jolted onto his, and another wave of delicious pain washed over you, unable to keep the moan you'd been swallowing since he impaled you with his cock, out. You were moaning and wailing his name as he gently brought you down till he was firmly buried into your soaked pussy. 

You gripped the sheet with one hand beside his head while the other hand moved to cup the back of his head and your fingers buried into his silky black mane. You began moving your hips against his, slowly rocking back and forth on his cock just to get your pussy used to the size of his cock. If you thought Gojo was significant, then you had another thing coming with Geto. 

He was not the same length as Gojo. But the girth doubled, if not tripled, Gojo's size, which is not to suggest Gojo didn't have that much girth, because he did. 

But, in any case, you managed to lift your head from his neck and immediately press your lips to his, savouring his beautiful moans while he savoured yours. And as you kissed him, you managed to bend your knees and push your breast against his chest even more and create an appealing rhythm. "Look at that ass go..." Gojo groaned from behind you, his right hand smacking into your left ass cheek.

"Slap it again..." you groaned against Geto's lips, and as Gojo was ready to perform the honour, Geto smacked his hand away and grabbed the flesh of your ass, squeezing the plump cheeks in his hot calloused palms before delivering a slap. “Fuck… that’s it.”

Geto only hummed, his tongue too busy exploring every corner of your mouth. “Gotta get a view of this,” Gojo said as he hopped off the bed and went for the camera. “Just look at that, Saijo Takeda. Your beautiful wife is taking my best friend's cock so well,” he taunted the camera as he brought the camera closer to where you were joined together with Geto. “Look at ass jiggle as she bounces on his cock. Does it feel good mama?” 

"Yes... yes so good," you moaned, tugging at Geto's hair. Both of his hands grip your ass again. Your stomach began to heat up when you felt him spanking your ass not once but two more times before spreading your cheeks apart to give Gojo and that camera a view of that puckered hole that had been clenching and unclenching. 

“I can make it feel even better you know,” Gojo hissed, enjoying the view of your ass clapping against Geto’s thighs. “I can feel so much better if you let me put my cock inside your ass.” 

“Yes… please I want it…” you cried. 

“Oh shit…’ Geto finally spoke, his hand resting on your hips to slow down your pace. “You heard our baby Toru… come on in… see it’s all spread out nice and just waiting for you to come in.” 

“Oh shit…” 

“Don’t keep the lady waiting. Go put the camera down and get the lube from my bag and come prep her little ass.” 

Gojo didn't need to be reminded again because he was already out of bed, immediately mounting the camera on the tripod and grabbing the lube from Geto's gym bag.

…

Your body, or more accurately, your ass, felt strange. Perhaps it was because you were still high and drunk from sex, or perhaps it was because Gojo had squirted a generous amount of lubrication inside your ass. "Shit feels... weird," you complained as you tried to grind yourself on Geto's cock, but his strength had you pinned to his shaft while Gojo worked his fingers to loosen your puckered hole a bit, or just enough to be able to handle his cock inside your hole. 

“Almost there pretty,” Gojo groaned while leaning forward to kiss both of your perfect globes. “Ah… I think you can handle me now,” and with that said, Gojo pulled his fingers out, resting both hands on your ass to spread your cheeks apart while he lined his cock up with your asshole. “Going in now.”

“Deep breaths baby,” Geto instructed as Gojo began to push past the tight ring of your ass. You began whimpering, your hands falling from Geto’s hair and body to clutch the sheet next to his head. 

“Fu… Fuck,” Gojo cursed and hissed under his breath as he took in the sight of your tightly little hole being stretched out by his cock. “You about to break my cock off, mama?” Gojo asked, squeezing your butt in his palms as he continued to sink further into your wet heat. It burned, it stung like hell, but you wanted him to keep going, to bruise your little butthole. "Fuck, your ass is squeezing me, so fucking good, ohhh fuck yeah," he groaned as he plunged himself fully into you, his hips slamming into your ass.

“Oh… fuck baby…” Geto groaned, feeling your pussy gripping his cock tightly. “Fuck…” he whispered yet again, his eyes rolling back a bit as he took in the feeling of being so close to his best friend. His cock brushed up against his. If it wasn’t for the thin sheet that separated your ass and pussy then maybe, just maybe their cocks, would have been brushing against each other. 

“Fuck… I don’t think I can stay still any longer Su…” Gojo moaned before pulling his hips back a bit to slam into your ass again. Geto was next to follow; his hand held you still as he pulled out of your pussy and thrust back in.

They were both developing a rhythm, sliding, grinding, and sinking into your little holes, your mouth hanging open once more, and your tongue lolling out of your lips, saliva pouring from the pink tip. You urgently gulp for air, feeling trapped between two gigantic men, both of them just happened to be younger than you and also your neighbours.

“Look at the camera mama,” Gojo said as he grabbed your chin from behind and turned your face to the camera like he did earlier. “Let him see how beautiful you looked getting railed like a good fucking slut. Are you a slut?”

“Don’t be mean, Satoru,” Geto warned as he sat up on his elbows to capture the swollen nipple between his lips. Gojo was about to whine and complain while still being balls deep inside your ass, however, what you said next caught them off guard. 

“Yes… I’m a slut.” 

Gojo grinned and pulled your head back against his shoulder and kissed you sloppily, then whispered, “Yeah, are you a good slutty waifu?” 

“Yes… I’m a slutty waifu…” you cried. 

“And for who?” 

“I’m a slut… for you… and Suguru.”

“That’s right… A good fucking slut for… just look at her, Mr Saijo. You won’t get to fuck and make love to such a pretty… fuck… such a pretty face anymore,” Gojo said to the camera. His lips then latched on to your ears, whispering naughty words that were driving your arousal, coating their cocks with your creamy slick. The sounds of two members pushing in and out of you at increasing speeds, and with perfect accuracy and rhythm, were the most hellish of all - but your groans were second.

Geto peered over your shoulder to see Gojo staring at him as he whispered profanities into your ears as he plunged deeply into you. Geto's teeth dug deeper into your breast as he held Gojo's stare. There was no need for words because they both knew that simply looking at one other gave them pleasure. There was an underlying need for passion between the two, but none of them considered making the first move.

But maybe, just maybe tonight will be the night, especially with how good they both looked fucking your creamy pussy and your ass. Yes, just maybe they’ll do it but not until they have you cumming on their cock more times than they can count. 

Anyway, Geto finally broke eye contact to gaze at your lovely, then down to look at your pussy, back up to look at your tits, your face, and then back to Gojo's eyes. Geto’s hand then reached up and grabbed Gojo’s hand pulling both you and him down on his chest. Geto then grabbed your head and pulled you in for a hot needy kiss while tangling his fingers into Gojo’s hair to keep him there.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum,” Gojo groaned, his hand slipping between your bodies to play with your clit. Your stomach was getting hot, and you were having a developing pleasure. "Come on, mama, wrap your cream around our cock, and we'll pump you full of our cum." But your brain barely noticed any of that as the scorching pleasure inside of you escalated. You began whimpering, but the sound of your whimpers was drowned out by the manly grunts from Geto's lips and the loud moans from Gojo's mouth as your body trembled violently between theirs as you eventually reached a forceful climax, losing consciousness entirely as you release yourself into the ecstasy of your orgasm.

“Yes… yes,” you cried, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. They fucked you through their climax while chasing theirs, and it wasn't long before their balls tightened, their cocks swelled immensely in your holes, and when you clamped around them both, they both emptied their seeds inside your holes. Gojo drew your head back to kiss your lips as Geto gasped as he quickly gripped your breast in his mouth and sucked on your nipple. "Fuck you, baby, fuck."

"So full," you murmured, resting your head on his shoulders. You could feel their lips kissing your body. It felt great, their delicate touches felt nice, and oh fuck, you just had sex with your neighbors, to spite and get revenge on your cheating husband.

Soon after, Gojo pulled out of your home, removed you off Geto's lap, and placed you on the bed. You lay and sat silently for a while, reminiscing on your wonderful time. That is, until Gojo asked, "Would you like to do that again, mama? This time, without the camera." 

You looked over at him and back at Geto who was lazily stroking his cock. He smiled at you and you giggled. “Ok, but give me a moment to cool down.” 

Gojo chuckled as he hopped off the bed to go turn off the camera. “While we wait on her to cool down,” Gojo began as he turned around and licked his lips before looking over at Geto then he continued, “Do you wanna maybe make out with me?” 

Your eyes widened, your head snapping back and forth between the two of them. Geto on the other hand chuckled before replying, “I want to do more than make out with you. But that’s if you're down with me topping.” 

“And what if I wanted to top?” Gojo asked as he slowly made his way over to the bed. You were still in shock, but you managed to move over to give them a bit of room.

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I have no problem with you being the top,” Gojo responded as he moved to straddle Geto’s lap. 

“Well fuck then,” you whispered under your breath while watching the two of them smiling at each. “I’m going to enjoy this…” 

… 

A few Days Later… 

“Today’s a good day,” Gojo said to himself as he walked into the law firm in which your husband worked with the edited sex tape and your divorce papers in his hand. 

“Good Morning sir, how may I assist?” the lady at the front desk asked. 

“I’d like to have a word with Saijo Takeda.” 

“Is he expecting you?” the woman asked. 

“He’s not,” Gojo answered truthly, “But he’s going to want to have a conversation with me. Well that’s if he wants to continue working here. I have no problem getting him fired from this establishment.” 

“I’ll take you to him,” the woman spoke quickly before excusing herself from the front desk and leading Gojo towards your husband's office. Once they arrived at the door, Gojo thanked the woman before opening up the door to have a conversation with your husband. 

“I’m quite busy at the moment,” your husband said as soon as Gojo stepped inside the office. 

“Good Afternoon too Mr. Saijo.” 

Your husband perked up, eyes almost bulging from his head when he saw the son of Mr. Gojo is the owner of multiple law and technological firms in Japan inside his office. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Eh! I’m just here to sort some business out with you,” Gojo said as he took a seat in front of your husband. 

“What kind of business?” Your husband asked. Gojo smiled as he rested both the sex tape and your divorce papers in front of him. Your husband brow raised in confusion as he picked up the papers that were in front of him. “What’s all of this?” 

“Are you blind?” Gojo asked, scoffing as he watched the excuse of a husband picking up the thumb drive that had the sex tape. 

“Divorce papers?” 

“Gosh you’re so stupid, but let’s cut to the chase. You are going to do yourself a favour and sign these divorce papers. Y/N, or should I say my woman has already signed most of these papers. Fill out the rest.” 

“What?” your husband said with a shocked look on his face and as he was about to say something else, Gojo was quick to shut him down. 

“It’ll be best to sign them while I’m being nice.”

“And what if I don’t?” your husband asked as he rested the papers on the table and folded his hand under his chin. Does this kid know who I am?” Your husband thought. 

However Gojo chuckled then spoke, “Suguru and I fucked your wife and made a tape of it. You have it right there in your hand.” His confession shocked your husband to the core. “Now I want you to listen to me carefully. There are two copies of the tape. You have one and my baby Y/N has the other copy. You see if you don’t do what I’m asking you to do. I’ll ruin your life with this tape.”

“I’m not the one on the tape though,” your husband fired back at Gojo. 

“But I am,” Gojo said while smirking. “Now imagine what the public would think if they found out that you leaked a sex of me having sex with your wife from this computer right here,” Gojo said while tapping the computer that was on the desk. “I can already see the headlines. Saijo Takeda was caught in another scandal and now the company is seeking to release him from the company.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Gojo laughed and added, "Oh but I would. I would. So please don't put me to the test. Saijo I make pledges instead of just making meaningless threats. I advise you to follow my instructions. Accept the terms of the documents by signing them. You have 12 hours to complete the form and send it back to me. If you don't do it, I guarantee that your life will never be the same again. Enjoy your day. I have to hurry home right away so I can fill Y/N's pussy. Oh, and you might pick up a few new skills after watching the tape. It's good practice.”

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌?

@getosbigballsack 2023

[darkpetal16]

Do you have any head canons of what a relationship with dust after the resets would look/be like? How he shows affection, his struggles, etc,?

Yep!

It takes a long, long time for him to not think this is all one big fantastical dream. There are several moments where he’ll stare at you, or Papyrus, or Toriel as if he’s not certain he believes what he sees.

He’s jumpy. Not in any obvious way, but he has to sit closest to the door, he has to have full view of windows, he cannot have an open space behind him, children laughing makes him tense, etc. It’s really only a change noticed by Papyrus, since he was already like this when you met him.

He doesn’t tolerate human kids. He doesn’t hate them, he just. . . Avoids them.

Sometimes his pranks/jokes go too far. His sense of humor has significantly darkened from the repeated deaths & resets so at times he’ll slip up and say something that makes others in the room uncomfortable or upset. A lot of his humor is centered around death, murder, and gore now. This is most concerning to Papyrus who doesn’t understand what brought this change on.

He evades. Doesn’t matter how often or how sincere someone (ie Papyrus or Toriel) asks about him. . . He won’t give them a straight answer. He’ll deflect, sidestep, or outright ignore their questions.

If in a romantic relationship with him, he’ll sometimes answer you honestly about how he is. You know the full story, so when he says he’s having an off day you know not to ask why. . .

It’s easier to be with you than others. He didn’t kill you, so he isn’t haunted by that image every time he looks at you. They don’t understand the full magnitude of their freedom, or what it cost him.

He’s too tired to be grateful they’re alive. Maybe one day when he’s not so. . . exhausted. . . He can look at the monsters without feeling uncomfortable.

He doesn’t initiate often, but when he does he clings. When he goes to you for affection it’s not a want, it’s a necessity. He needs to touch you. He needs to hear your heartbeat. He needs to feel your arms around him. He needs you to stay put with him where he can see you at all times. He needs to hear you say that you’ll stay with him.

Some days he thinks back to how you literally abandoned everything to be with him and he looks at you like you’re insane. Then he grins. Because he’s insane too. You both make a pair, huh?

He stargazes. He stays up past midnight each and every night to admire the view. He soaks it all in. A part of him is anxious that everything will be RESET and he’ll never see the stars again. He has to admire them now and as often as possible.

He gets jealous easily.

He knows he’s. . . Well, he’s pretty fucked up. He knows you’re nothing short of a saint for not only going back for him and willingly entering isolation, but for patiently dealing with him during that time. He knows he is was an ass.

He doesn’t understand why you want to stay with him. He’s happy and grateful and he cares for you as much as he possibly can. . . But like. . . You can do better. He knows that. The right thing to do would be to let you go so you can find someone who will treat you well.

But he can’t. He can’t bring himself to do that. He selfishly wants to keep you and any hint that someone else might sweep you away has him seething.

He wouldn’t stop you from leaving but. . . It’d devastate him. You are the only one who can understand him, and if even you can’t stand him. . .

. . .

Dates are causal and quiet. Movie nights, stargazing, picnics—he really enjoys picnics, fishing, even scrapbooking. Just as long as it’s quiet and low-energy. He gets too stressed in loud / high paced environments.

He’s very good about reading between the lines / picking up on nonverbal cues so he can consistently read your mood well. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll keep you company. He may not know what to say but he’ll sit with you. He’ll listen, if you want to talk.

Papyrus won’t question you moving in with them.

But you also can’t question it when Papyrus moves in with you two. Sorry, they’re a packaged deal.

PLAY IF DUSTTALE HERE FOR HIS ROUTE

MASTERLIST

[cookiescribble]

Show Me How To Be Whole Again

A/N: hi everyone! This is the fic I've been working on for eight months 😮‍💨. I hope it came out as well as I hoped it would 😅 - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer is abducted, you rush to the team to make sure you're there when they find him. After you get home, Spencer's behavior starts to get more and more concerning, and you're desperate for answers. (based on 2x15 and the aftermath of that episode)

Word Count: 7.1k

CW: Mentions of abduction, violence, drug addiction, withdrawal, arguing. some angst in the middle but i am incapable of writing something without a happy ending.

~~~~~

The call came early in the morning. They said they called you as soon as they could. 

If you were thinking rationally, or if you could stand being alone for 5 minutes after hearing the news, maybe you would’ve stayed home. But you couldn’t stay put knowing Spencer was in trouble. 

You quickly threw a few days’ worth of clothes in a carry-on bag and took the first flight out of the nearest airport. You were trying so hard to keep yourself together and not break down crying on a crowded airplane, but the thoughts just kept rushing in your head. You were so worried about him. 

When you landed, you called the team and told them you were going to the police station and you were going to stay there until they found him. You wouldn’t let anyone argue with you. You wouldn’t be able to calm down until they found him anyway, so being anywhere else didn’t make sense. 

You didn’t really think of what you’d do when you got there. You’d just been on autopilot since you got the call. You were hoping someone would meet you there. 

When you frantically burst through the doors of the police station, JJ was standing there waiting for you. You dropped your bag and hugged her tight. 

“It was my fault,” she choked out, sobbing. “We were together and… we split up… I shouldn’t have split up…”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, you’re not the one who abducted him. It’s not your fault.” You were also sobbing now. You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but all you could think about was what could possibly be happening to Spencer right now. 

You calmed down enough to ask, “Where is everybody else?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath herself. “We set up at the unsub’s house. He took Spence to a secondary location, and Garcia set up there to get to his computers.” She looked down. “I really should be getting back there.”

You nodded while she talked. “I’m coming with you,” you announced. 

She looked at you, concerned. “We can’t risk you-“

You cut her off. “I am coming with you. I’m staying with you until we find him,” you stated forcefully. 

She didn’t argue further. She could see the desperation in your eyes, you’re sure. Even someone who didn’t analyze behavior for a living could see that. “Alright. Let’s go.”

…

You arrived at the house. You couldn’t tell how long the car ride took; every second felt like an hour. 

When everybody saw you, they took turns giving you a hug. You could tell they were concerned that you were here, but they could see how devastated you were. You think they understood. 

You hung around while they all did their jobs and tried to find Spencer. You sat next to Penelope and watched as she tried to do whatever she could to help find him. 

Time passed. The team was coming in and out of the room as they needed to. Derek was probably in here the most, giving his moral support to Penelope. 

Suddenly, the monitors in front of you lit up. 

“What‘s happening?” Derek asked. 

“I… don’t know,” Penelope answered. 

Your heart dropped as an image popped up on the screen. 

It was Spencer. He was sitting in a chair, his hands tied together. He was wearing the clothes you watched him pack on the morning you last saw him. 

He looked so scared. 

“Guys! Get in here!” you heard Derek yell. 

You couldn’t look away from the screen. 

The rest of the team rushed in, faces dropping as they saw what was happening. 

Someone was talking in the background of the stream. You couldn’t hear them. Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. Spencer was replying to whatever they were saying. Through your loud heartbeat, you could hear his trembling voice. Your eyes started to water. 

After a few moments, you heard someone near you say something and suddenly you were being pulled away from the screen and into another room. 

When you realized what was happening, you looked up to see Hotch holding your shoulders, pushing you away from the horrific scene unfolding on the monitors. 

You started sobbing. “I have to see him,” you tried to say, but your voice was cracking. 

“No. You saw that he’s alive. That’s all you need to see.” he said firmly. He was protecting you from seeing something that would truly break you. 

You couldn’t argue. What you saw shook you to your very core; you couldn’t go back in there. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded. “You’re going to find him and bring him back safe.” It wasn’t a question. You knew they’d find him. They had to. 

You took a step back, telling Hotch he could go back to the team in the other room, and that you were okay out here.

You sat at a table, laying your head down and covering it with your arms. You had started crying, and you couldn’t stop. How could they do this to him? He’s never done anything to hurt anybody. All he does is help people. How could someone look at him and feel anything other than warmth, comfort, and love?

You heard footsteps come into the room. The girls came in and sat around you. You picked your head up to look at them, your eyes already swollen from crying so much. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically. Your heart was racing again. 

“He’s okay,” Emily said quickly. “He’s alive. The unsub… made him choose a victim to keep alive, but there’s going to be more victims… and then the camera cut off.” She took a deep breath. “It looked like making that decision let him live.”

You buried your face in your hands. This was so cruel. you knew he dealt with bad people every day, but… this was so heartbreaking. How could someone feel so little remorse for other human beings that they force an innocent person to decide someone’s fate?

You took deep breaths to try not to cry again. “I can tell he’s in so much pain right now… He’s going to blame himself for all those people’s deaths. The guilt is going to eat him up inside. He’ll feel horrible even if he does make it out of this.”

Everyone took turns patting your back to reassure you. “He is going to make it out of this. He’ll be home soon.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to believe it. You had to believe it. If you didn’t believe it… you would break down more than you ever have before. 

…

You stayed in that room for what felt like an eternity. The team took turns keeping you company when they weren’t busy. They gave you vague updates to let you know that Spencer was still alive. They didn’t tell you details of what they saw. You didn’t ask. Seeing the somber looks on their faces told you all you needed to know.

Eventually, everyone came rushing out of the room, putting on their coats and practically running out the door. Penelope came to sit with you, her eyes wide and full of hope. “They found where he is. They’re going to him now.” She hugged you tightly. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears leaked out of your eyes again. This time they were happy tears. The immense rush of relief you felt was enough to render you speechless for a while, until you finally choked out, “They’re going to call us when he’s safe?” She nodded eagerly and you let out a huge sigh of relief. 

The wait felt like forever. You were still nervous. What if they don’t get to him in time? What if they’re just barely too late?

Finally, finally Penelope’s phone rang. She answered quickly, nodding at what she was hearing. Eventually she hung up and looked at you, smiling. “He’s with them now. The unsub is dead. They’re rushing an ambulance but his injuries seem minor considering… what’s been happening.”

You closed your eyes and took another big sigh of relief. “I’m going to meet the ambulance there,” you declared.

Penelope looked at you quizzically. “I don’t know if-“

“You said the unsub is dead,” you cut her off. “There’s no more danger. I’m going to him.” You saw keys to one of the FBI vehicles that was left over since they had multiple people to a van. You picked them up and tossed them to Penelope. “You know their coordinates. You drive.”

She caught the keys and nodded at you, unable to argue with your logic. You both rushed out to the van and sped over to the location. 

You saw the ambulance as you arrived there. You barely waited for Penelope to put the car in park before you were running out the door to where the ambulance had parked. 

You saw Spencer sitting at the edge of the back of the ambulance with a first aid blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was beaten up, but he was still conscious and alert. You were relieved his injuries weren’t worse. 

“Spencer!” you shouted as you ran towards him. He looked your way, his eyes widening as he saw you. 

You threw your arms around his shoulders when you reached him. His shock quickly turned to something softer as he relaxed into your arms, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You nestled your face into his neck for a few moments, unable to stop your sobs of joy. “Oh, sweetie…” you cooed into his ear. 

He moved so his forehead was touching yours. Tears were streaking down his face. “I’m sorry…” he started. 

You shook your head vigorously. “No apologies. You’re okay now.” You kissed him on the forehead gently and threaded your fingers in his hair “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He nodded and tightened his grip on you, kissing you firmly. He kissed you for a long time before finally pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled warmly, whispering back to him. “I love you, too.”

You stayed like that for a few moments before everyone started pushing Spencer to get in the ambulance so he could go to the hospital. You rode with him, of course. You held his hand the whole way there. 

He wasn’t in the hospital for too long. They were able to treat his wounds relatively easily. The team waited in the waiting room while you followed him into the examination room. 

When you came back to the waiting room, hand in hand, everyone rushed to greet you before you all headed to the jet. 

You sat in the corner of the couch to the side of the other seats, motioning for Spencer to lay his head in your lap. He followed eagerly, curling up on his side and nestling his head in your lap. 

You ran your fingers through his curls as he began to fall asleep. He must’ve been exhausted. You couldn’t imagine him sleeping during any of that. 

You stayed like that the whole ride home, him asleep and you petting his hair softly. 

You gently woke him up when you landed. “C’mon, baby. We’re going home.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. You kissed his cheek before standing up, taking his hand as you went to the parking lot. He obviously wasn’t in any condition to drive, so he handed you the keys to his car and let you drive home. You insisted on stopping and getting some food on the way back. He said he didn’t feel hungry, but once he started eating, it seemed like he’d never stop. He must’ve been starving.

When you walked into your apartment, he grabbed you and hugged you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, relaxing into him. 

“I missed you so much.” He was crying again, sniffling softly. “I thought about you every waking moment. I knew I had to make it through because you were waiting for me.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. 

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes with a soft expression. “I knew you were going to make it back.” You hugged him tight again. “I didn’t see everything. The team… made sure I didn’t see anything that was going to hurt me.”

He nodded, leaning down to stroke your cheek gently with his thumb. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like that.” He touched his forehead to yours. “What matters now is that I’m here with you.” He kissed you slowly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

You kissed for a long time, slowly making your way to your bedroom. You smiled up at him after a while. “As much as I would love to continue this…” You gestured to the bed. “You need to sleep.”

As if to prove your point, he let out a quiet yawn. You smiled as he sat down at the edge of the bed. You grabbed his pajamas from the drawer and helped him get changed and settled into bed. 

He lay his head on your chest and you stroked his hair gently, just like you did the whole way home. “Go to sleep, baby,” you whispered as his eyes closed. After a moment you heard his breathing slow as he fell asleep. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head before relaxing to fall asleep yourself.   

…

After that night, things got… bad. 

Spencer wasn’t acting like himself anymore. He was… distant. Cold. He had never acted this way towards you before. Or anyone, for that matter. 

You had never had a problem with intimacy before, but suddenly he refused to touch you. Any time you would reach for his hand, or try to put your arm around him, he’d just shrug you off of him and move away from you. It always ended in you mumbling an apology and putting some space between you. 

He never explained why he didn’t want you to touch him. In fact, he didn’t talk a whole lot anymore. You often sat in silence, completely apart from each other. You always used to be able to count on him to fill these silences, but now he just stayed quiet. 

When he did talk, he was a lot more cold to you than he used to be. You had never fought before, but now it felt like any time he talked it was to argue with you about something. It felt like he was always angry lately. 

He didn’t even like to sleep in the same bed as you anymore. Most nights, if not every night, he slept on the couch. You started begging him, telling him that you would never cross over your side of the bed, but he shrugged you off saying he just needed to be alone.

All of this was really taking a toll on you. You tried not to show it, because you knew he was going through a hard time, so you only let your feelings out in places you could be alone. Which meant you spent a lot of time crying in the bathroom.

This went on for months. You thought that, surely, he had to tell you what was going on eventually. He had never hidden anything from you before, so you didn’t really know what to do, or how to handle this. You didn’t want to push him into talking about things he didn’t want to talk about, but something was very clearly wrong. 

After a particularly bad argument one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go to someone about this. For Spencer’s sake.

The next morning, you set an extra early alarm, quietly getting dressed and tiptoeing past Spencer, who was asleep on the couch, and silently leaving your apartment. 

As you got in your car and started driving, you started arguing with yourself in your head. Part of your brain was trying to say that this wasn’t going to help, and that this was just like being a little kid and tattling to a teacher. But the emotional part of your brain was saying that just telling anyone would be able to help Spencer. And that little shred of hope was all it took to convince you to do this.

You shoved open the doors to the BAU, hoping that Spencer’s stories about his boss barely leaving his office were true. When you looked around, you saw an office with a light on, making you breathe a sigh of relief.

You bound up the stairs, knocking on the office door, a little more forcefully than you had intended. Hopefully it would help get your emotions across.

“Come in,” a familiar voice ordered. 

You took a deep breath before opening the door, seeing Hotch sitting at his desk with a bunch of paperwork in front of him. You wondered just how much paperwork this job required, and if he was always here hours before everyone else.

He looked surprised to see you. He would probably be surprised to see anyone at this early hour, but considering you don’t even work for him, he probably wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of you coming here. “Is there something I can help you with?” He asked. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You didn’t really think this far; you just figured that surely someone who works so closely with Spencer had to know something, especially since he was a profiler. 

You thought about everything that had happened in the last few months, trying to find the right words to properly articulate your concerns. But all the thoughts about Spencer pushing you away and refusing your affection, mixed with remembering what your relationship was like before that fateful night of his abduction, overwhelmed your mind so much that you just couldn’t stop your emotions flowing out. Tears welled in your eyes before starting to streak down your face. Here you were, in Hotch’s office, completely unannounced and uninvited, and you were just standing there crying.

After a few moments of crying, and of Hotch looking very concerned at this scene playing out before him, you decided it didn’t matter that you couldn’t form the perfect words. You just needed to say something. 

Through choked sobs, you finally managed to blurt out, “What’s wrong with Spencer?”

Hotch looked at you, his expression as unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, too emotional to think about how you shouldn’t be saying all of this to your boyfriend’s boss. The words just started coming out in a rush. “Something’s wrong. We had never had a single argument before, and now the only time he ever talks to me is to pick a fight. He’s never present, he barely speaks, which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you is very strange behavior for Spencer. He never smiles anymore, he won’t let me touch him anymore, he won’t sleep in our bed anymore, he only sleeps on the couch…” 

You covered your eyes with your hands, trying to stop the tears from coming out. Finally, after some shaky breaths, you finished by saying, “I just wanted to know if there’s anything you could tell me about this. If you know why he’s acting this way. If there’s something he’s not telling me.”

Hotch hesitated before gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “Do you want to take a seat?”

You looked at the chair, and you noticed you were shaking. You nodded, and sat down in the chair, trying to calm down. But you couldn’t help being extremely restless, your leg bouncing rapidly while you sat.

Hotch leaned forward, moving some paperwork out of the way and placing his hands on his desk. His expression was slightly softened. “Working in this field, you go through a lot of traumatic things. Reid’s abduction was one of the worst things an agent can go through.” His voice was low and steady, which was a welcome contrast to how frantic your own words had come out. “Anyone would struggle after that.”

You sighed. “I know, but-”

He raised his hand to cut you off. “That being said, we’ve all been able to tell that Reid has been a little off.” He saw you raise your eyebrow and added, “Okay, a lot off.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We have some… theories, but we can’t know for sure what’s happening with him unless he tells us. And since he’s already struggling, we didn’t want to make it worse, especially since he’s technically just a subordinate or coworker. But if he’s not telling you either…” He looked at you sympathetically. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “... Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I came here out of the blue.” You stood up, taking a step forward as if you were going to hug him, but for once your rational thoughts took over and you stayed where you were.

He stood up after you. “You’re welcome. It couldn’t have been easy to come here and talk about this.” He reached out to shake your hand, and when you shook his hand back he put his other hand over yours and spoke softly to you. “I’m going to try to get through to him. I promise.”

His gentle hands and soft-spoken words were enough to reassure you, at least for now. You nodded, thanking him again before leaving his office. You were able to leave with a lot more composure than you came here with.

It was getting late by the time you left Hotch’s office, and there were a lot more people here now. As you came down the stairs, you looked up to see Spencer staring at you. He wasn’t angry, thankfully, but he looked… kind of dumbfounded. Which made sense. You had no reason to be here at all, let alone a reason to be talking to his boss.

As you walked towards him to get to the door to leave, he turned to you. “Hey…” he started, his voice soft.

You didn’t know what to say, his soft voice sounding nothing like what you’ve been hearing these past few months. So you just kind of waved to him awkwardly, pointing to your watch to indicate that you had to get to work, and you left the BAU. 

When you got back in your car, you took a few minutes to process everything that had happened. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to convince yourself that everything was okay. You believed Hotch when he said he’d help. It felt like Spencer was in capable hands.

…

Later that day, you had been in the bathroom when Spencer came home, and you didn’t hear the door open and close. When you came out, you saw him standing awkwardly in the front of your apartment. It made you jump a little bit. “Hi… I didn’t know you were home,” you muttered awkwardly.

He stood there looking at you, his eyes moving a little as if he was thinking of what to say. After a few moments, instead of saying anything, he walked over to you and hugged you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

You just froze for a moment, not sure how to react. But he kept his tight hold on you, as if you were the only thing keeping him up right now, and you finally started to hug him back just as tightly. You both just stood like that for a few minutes, holding each other.

Finally, he spoke up. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, and he sounded so fragile. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was starting to cry now, making soft sobbing sounds into your shoulder.

Hearing him cry broke something in you, and shortly you were also in tears. “Oh, Spence…” You squeezed him a little tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “It’s okay…”

He sniffled and shook his head, pulling back a little so he could look you in the eyes. “My behavior has been abhorrent lately. I’ve been struggling, and I’ve been bottling everything up. I didn’t realize just how much this was hurting you.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep up with his thoughts. “I guess I figured, if I didn’t tell you about my problems, then they couldn’t affect you. But I was wrong. It just made it worse.”

You looked at him sadly, one of your hands moving to gently stroke his hair. “You can always come to me with anything. I’ll always try to help you. You know that.”

Some more tears started falling down his cheeks, and you started to wipe them away with your thumb. “I guess I felt like… I didn’t deserve the help.” He took a few shaky breaths as he tried to calm down. “Like I didn’t deserve you being so nice to me.”

“Spencer…” you started, trying to make your voice sound as soothing as possible. “What’s wrong? What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t know if I can talk about it yet. But I promise I’ll tell you soon.” He looked at you determinedly. “Until then, I promise I’m going to try to be better to you.” As if to prove his point, he grabbed your face and captured your lips in a soft kiss, making your heart flutter.

After years of dating, you didn’t think you’d feel that flustered, shy feeling of butterflies in your stomach again. But, after these past few months of having no physical contact, this kiss almost felt like it was your first kiss all over again.

You couldn’t help but hold the back of his head to try to bring his face even closer to yours. You were craving his touch, and you needed his affection. On the off chance that this was a one-time thing, and that he would start to distance himself again after this, you figured you had to make it last.

He showed no signs of letting up, though, moving you both so you were laying on the couch, with him hovering over you. His lips never left yours the whole time, and his hands were moving around your face as if he was trying to remember what it felt like. 

He broke the kiss to look at you, before closing his eyes. His hands trailed from your face down to your neck, moving slightly under your shirt to your shoulders. He wasn’t just touching you, he was feeling you. As if feeling your skin would jog his memory of you. His breathing was soft and even as his hands moved down to your hips, his fingers gentle and slow on your waist as he started to lift your shirt up. 

Your breath hitched when you felt cold air suddenly hit your stomach. “Spence…” you spoke quietly, a soft blush on your face. 

He looked at you, his voice quick and reassuring. “I don’t want to do anything like… that. It would be a little too much for me right now.” He quickly flashed you that awkward little smile he had sometimes. “I just want to see you, to feel you.” His voice went a little quieter when he added, “I missed you.”

You looked at him sadly, reaching up to touch his face. “I missed you, too.” You leaned in to kiss him again. “I missed you so much.”

The soft, slow kissing resumed, and Spencer very carefully pulled your shirt over your head, his hands gently gliding over the newly exposed skin. You let out a dreamy sigh. You hadn’t realized just how touch starved you had been over these past few months. This is exactly what you had been needing. 

You just stayed on the couch like that for a while, his lips and hands on you, the gentlest of touches. After a little while longer, you started to unbutton his shirt, because you wanted to do the same to him.

He completely froze, sucking in a breath. You immediately pulled your hands away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, worried that you just ruined any progress that had been made tonight. 

He shook his head, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “It’s okay, I just… I don’t want you to see me with my shirt off.” He looked at you with pleading eyes, as if he was begging you not to ask about it. 

You hesitated, but instead of asking about it you tried to be a little more lighthearted. “I’ve seen you without a shirt plenty of times, Spencer.” 

He gave you a slight smile before the worried look came back to his face. “I just…” he started, “I can’t right now. Please understand.”

You nodded, taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze. “I understand.” You stroked his hand gently with your thumb. “I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can trust me.”

He squeezed your hand back, giving you another little smile. “I know you won’t. I do trust you.” He let out a little yawn and started to rub his eyes. 

You looked at the clock, not realizing how late it had gotten. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You should get some sleep.”

You worried he would still insist on sleeping on the couch, but he just nodded, his hand still tightly holding yours as you both stood up and walked to your bedroom. He grabbed his pajamas and headed to the bathroom to change.

You sat on the bed and watched him for a few moments before he closed the door. You started to get dressed yourself, wondering what this problem was about. He had been a little shy around you when you two first started getting intimate, but you thought he had gotten over that. Had these past few months apart made the shyness come back?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Spencer coming back into the room. You stood up so he could get in bed. He looked so tired; you could see just how bad the dark circles under his eyes were.

He crawled under the covers, curling up and closing his eyes. You got in the other side of the bed, gently rubbing his back to soothe him. You didn’t want to push any boundaries, so you pulled away after just a moment.

He turned around, looking at you with those big eyes of his, and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath, as if soothed by your touch. You smiled softly. He looked more peaceful than you had seen him in a long time. It made it easier to close your eyes and relax.

It was silent for a while, and you thought he had fallen asleep. But then, you heard him speak very softly. “I love you.”

You opened your eyes to see him looking back at you. You squeezed his hand gently. “I love you too.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead, making him smile. “Get some sleep. I can tell you need it,” you whispered.

He nodded and closed his eyes again, moving a little closer to you before wrapping his arms around you and nestling his head in your neck. You hesitated for a moment in shock before cradling him in your arms. You kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered to him. Soon, you could hear his breathing soften, and you just listened to the quiet sounds of him sleeping for a few more moments before falling asleep yourself.

…

Things didn’t magically get better after that, but they did improve. 

Spencer went back to sleeping in your bed, though he seemed to have a hard time sleeping nowadays. He was always tossing and turning, and you usually woke up in the middle of the night to either try to soothe him to sleep or to keep him company when he couldn’t sleep. 

There was a lot more talking, and a lot less fighting. You could have more comfortable conversations, and he would politely tell you when he didn’t feel like talking. It was a lot better than him yelling at you to leave him alone. 

There was still some arguing, but usually only when you were trying to get him to eat. He was always saying he wasn’t hungry, and you had to try to push to get him to eat, saying he needed some kind of nutrition. Sometimes he would snap at you, saying he would eat if he was hungry and that he didn’t push you when you didn’t want to eat. He’d always apologize, though, and try his best to explain that he was either feeling nauseous or he just didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. It seemed to get a little better after a few days.

He didn’t mind a little more physical contact. He wasn’t always up for it, but he didn’t seem to mind it as much. It was always trial and error, almost like trying to pet a skittish cat. You’d start by putting a gentle hand on his, and he’d tense up for a second, and he’d either pull away and explain he didn’t want to be touched, or he’d take your hand and hold it gently. A big improvement. It was just little touches: holding hands, an arm around his shoulder, a hug… it never went past that.

He didn’t talk about what it was that was bothering him at first, but you trusted that he would tell you when he was ready. After about a week, he was finally ready to talk about it.

…

You both were sitting on the couch, in one of your quiet moments. You were reading a book, like you usually did when Spencer felt like being quiet. The silences were starting to get more comfortable, making it easier to just do quiet activities next to each other.

After a few minutes, Spencer cleared his throat, making you look over at him. You bookmarked the page you were on and turned to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. He closed his eyes for a moment to put his thoughts together, before opening them again to look at you. He spoke very softly.

“When I was…” he started, swallowing and taking a deep breath to compose himself before continuing, “... When I was abducted for those few days back in February, a lot happened. The man who took me had dissociative identity disorder, and dealing with all his personalities was difficult. But there was one of his personalities that was… nicer than the others. More helpful than harmful.” He closed his eyes again, and you knew this was really hard for him to talk about. You placed a gentle hand over his, and he let out a breath, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. He continued on, his voice still soft and sad.

“Unfortunately, one of the ways that he helped me was to… give me something to help numb the pain the others were causing.” He closed his eyes again, and he slowly rolled up his sleeves for you to see his arms.

You stared in shock. His arms were covered in needle marks. You covered your mouth. “Oh, Spencer…” You looked back up at his face, but his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he didn’t want to face this. You squeezed his hand to let him know you were here to support him.

“He would come to me saying Dilaudid helped with the pain, and after a few times, it started to feel… good.” He took another deep breath, his eyes still closed. “After he died, I took the bottles he still had. And when things started getting hard to handle… all the flashbacks and memories of what happened to me, I just needed to numb myself. And it worked, for a while. But eventually, I just… couldn’t stop.”

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentle. “You could’ve come to me, I could’ve tried to help you-”

“I didn’t want that,” he cut you off. “I tried to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t wrong. That it was just medicine that was helping me. But, obviously, I knew that wasn’t the truth. And I knew that if I told anyone about it, they would say I needed help. But I didn’t want help. I just wanted to live in this unrealistic world where everything I was doing was fine.” He finally opened his eyes to look at you. “That’s why I was lashing out. I didn’t want anyone to help me, and I also felt like I didn’t deserve anyone being nice to me.”

He looked at you very seriously. “I thought, if I didn’t tell you any of this, it couldn’t hurt you. I know how sensitive you are to other people’s emotions and problems, so I figured if I didn’t tell you, you couldn’t worry about me. Obviously, I was wrong, and that was a naive way of thinking.” He reached out and gently touched your face. “When I saw you at the BAU, I knew it was because you were worried about me, and I saw that you looked like you had been crying. And it just snapped me out of this false reality I had created for myself. And that’s when I came home and apologized, because I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep hurting you.”

You listened to him silently while he talked, letting him get out everything he needed to say before responding. “Why didn’t you tell me that day? Or the few days after that? Why did you wait until now?”

He nodded as if he was waiting for this question. “I read that withdrawal symptoms peak within 12-48 hours, and that it usually takes 5-7 days for the symptoms to resolve. So I wanted to wait out those 7 days just to make sure.”

You gave him a sad look. “But if I knew you were having withdrawal symptoms, I could have helped you. I really wish you would have told me.”

He sighed. “I wanted to do it on my own. To prove to myself that I could do it. That I wasn’t just going to quit halfway through and relapse.”

You nodded sympathetically. “Well, I’m really glad you told me now. We can get through this together.” You gave his hand a little pat. “You know this isn’t the end of it, right? It’s not just over when withdrawal symptoms stop. You still need to work out these issues that made you start this in the first place.”

He nodded. “I know. I want to try to get help now. I… I think I’m ready. I want to look into going to therapy, and maybe some support groups if I need them.” He squeezed your hand again. “I know I can make it through this, because I know you’ll be by my side.”

You smiled softly at him. “I’ll always be by your side.” Your hand trailed up his arms, looking back at the needle marks. “Do they… hurt?” you asked softly.

He shrugged. “Only when they first appear. They don’t hurt right now.”

You nodded, and you gently touched the marks on his arm. You looked at him, and you slowly brought his arm up so you could give every little mark a gentle kiss, to let him know that everything was going to get better soon.

He looked at you with big, loving eyes, and he started tearing up a bit. He pulled you in for a tight hug, sniffling as he buried his face in your neck. “I love you so much,” he said with a shaky voice.

You held him tight, rubbing his back to comfort him. “I love you too, Spence. Everything is going to be okay.” Your voice was calm and soothing. “I’m here now.”

…

Things started to get much better after that. Spencer was way more comfortable telling you when things were feeling more difficult than usual. Typically, it would be when he came home from a particularly emotional case. You were always there to hold him and to soothe him. There was no more aversion to your touch or need for extended silences. He felt comfortable in your arms, and he knew he could talk to you when something was bothering him.

He started seeing a therapist, and you always went there with him. Usually, you just sat outside the office for his sessions so he could have the one-on-one help he needed. Sometimes, if he was having a particularly rough week, he would bring you in with him for extra support. And you were always there when he needed you.

It took a bit of time, but you learned how to help with whatever he needed you for. If he needed a distraction, you could always come up with some activity to get his mind off of things. You played a lot of board games, and started learning to bake so you could just pull out a new recipe to try and he could focus on getting everything just right. When he just needed someone to listen to him, or a shoulder to cry on, you didn’t mind being that person for him. And sometimes he just wanted to be held, saying that the physical touch grounded him. You were always happy to hold him. 

Over time, things got easier and easier to deal with. Eventually, things seemed to be fully back to normal. You both knew that this was always going to be a struggle that could come back, but you knew how to handle it now, and you were certain that you could get through any struggle that ever tried to get in your way.

[l0stglitch]

Imagine Y/N acts so kind and caring to the cat but then when it comes to the lost boys they act distant and emtionless

I can definitely see this happening. Like after finding the cat, you’d definitely start acting like yourself more… just not around your dads. Marko and Paul would literally watch you playing with the cat from behind a corner because you refuse to speak to them when they enter the room.

David finds it ridiculous that the others are literally tip toeing around you. If you’re gonna act like a brat, then fine, but don’t expect him to change his behaviour to accommodate you. Surprisingly, he also isn’t really that bothered about having an animal around the cave, so long as it stays out of his way.

Dwayne on the other hand, hates it.

He’s never been the biggest fan of animals, so the fact that he’s now basically been replaced by one, is for lack of a better term… devastating.

Like, this man looks physically hurt when he sees you with the cat. Every time you hold her close, or nuzzle her sleek black fur, Dwayne feels this sickening pit of jealously and resentment stir from within. He’s not used to having to fight for your attention, as generally Dwayne has always been your first choice when it comes to just about anything. Now though, you barely look at him. It’s no surprise that he wants that cat gone.

It’s sort of ironic how none of your fathers are able to recognise how their obsessive behaviour has been mirrored by you onto the cat. The control, the confinement- you’ve experienced it all before. It only makes sense that you would slowly grow to become more like the vampires who raised you.

If you continue to act cold and distant towards your fathers, they won’t hesitate to threaten the safety of your cat. Perhaps you need a reminder that the only constant in your life will be them. Everything else is temporary, so you shouldn’t get too attached to anyone, or anything outside of the pack.

They don’t like the thought of robbing you of something that brings you joy, but they’ll still do it if it means you’ll be forced to find comfort in them.

After all, you do belong to them. Any pleasure or happiness you experience is only because they have allowed you to. Without your fathers, you would have nothing.

[pitchsidestories]

hate that I love you II Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1759

a/n: we hope you enjoy reading the oneshot, we'd love to hear your thoughts on it. <3

warnings: slight smut in the middle, a bit of angst, but with a happy ending.🖤

“Ana!”, Keira shouted the name of your former Barca teammate, after the English midfielder has spotted the Swiss woman in the crowd.

The Champions league final was over, your team has won the title a second time in a row. But the celebratory mood you were in just a few seconds ago was gone at the sight of your ex-girlfriend. It made your blood turn cold.

“Ale, what the hell is Ana doing here? Who even invited her?”, you asked your captain furiously.

In an instant, she noticed your change of mood, that was why the midfielder replied cautiously:” I think some of the girls did or she just came to visit.”

“Oh, wow.”, you huffed, trying to get as far away from your former lover as possible. Seems like you weren’t that lucky this evening in Bilbao, she already had set her eyes on you, calling your name.

“Hi, y/n.”

“Ana. Sorry, but I got to go.”, you lied, while walking into the direction to the changing rooms.

“Where’s she going?”, Ana questioned as she was slowly following you..

“Isn’t that obvious? You broke up with her.”, Alexia reminded the taller woman.

“She still didn’t have to run away.”, the Swiss player mumbled, the hurt was written all over her face.

Meanwhile Keira who has been quiet after hugging her enthusiastically, joined their conversation with a low voice:” No but you ran away first, remember?”

“I didn’t. It was better that way.”, Ana corrected the English woman, before she headed into the changing room where you were standing all by yourself. The party was heading somewhere else already.

You heard her last words loud and clear: ”No, it wasn’t, you’ve chosen the cowardly way after almost four years of being together. You acted like that time meant nothing to you.”

Finally, you got the chance to tell her how devasted you were about her sudden move to Madrid.

“That’s not true. It wouldn’t have worked out long distance and you know that.”, the Swiss player disagreed.

“No, I don’t know that actually, because we never tried it!”, you protested.

“Yeah, sure. You were pouting because I left the team.”, Ana rolled her eyes annoyed at you.

Her behaviour only fed the anger you felt inside.

“Yes, because you told me those transfer news a day before you left for the capitol.”

“Because I knew you’d be pouting.”, she shot back, almost stumbling over the empty champagne bottles which were left on the ground.  

This moment felt almost like a symbol of your failed relationship as it started golden, perfect even, with your first ever champions league win during the covid period, and the following wins, which abruptly ended in shattered hopes and dreams.

You tore your gaze away from the champagne bottles and looked straight at Ana.

“Oh.“, you said, your jaw set. “Sorry that you meant something to me. What a fool I was. Hope you’re happy now.“

Anas face changed from a slight moment to confusion to immediate annoyance: “Oh my god, you can be so damn dramatic!“

“Why are you even here? You ruined a perfect final with your presence.“, you spat back.

Anas eyes sparkled with furiousness: “Oh I’m sorry. Sorry that my friends are still here and that this team still means something to me!“

You were taking aback by how loud her voice had gotten but you kept glaring at her: “Fine. Go and celebrate with them. But leave me alone!“

All of a sudden, you felt Anas weight on you as she pinned you against the wall of the changing room. You had to suppress a surprised shriek.

Ana tilted her head, her lips curved in the smallest hint of a smirk: “Or what?“

“Get your hands off of me!“, you said through gritted teeth.

“Make me.“, your ex-girlfriend challenged you.

In a heartbeat you leaned forward, pressing your lips onto Anas. Just when she started to return the kiss, you bit down hard on her lower lip.

She pulled back: “Hey!“

“Can I go now?“, you asked impatiently.

“No.“

You locked eyes with her again. Your voice was pure ice when you replied. “I hate you so much…“

Anas hand found its way into your ponytail, pulling on it roughly.

You hissed.

“Say that again.“, Ana ordered.

“What? I hate that I still love you…“

Anas grip on your hair loosened. “I know you do.“

“What about you?“, you asked. You hated that your voice still sounded so hopeful when you only wanted to despise the woman in front of you.

Your ex ignored your question deliberately. “You need to shut up now.“

“Go on.“

“I’ll.“

And suddenly, her lips were on yours again. Her body pressed so hard against your own that you could feel her heat on your skin. You kissed back with hunger while Ana shoved her thigh between your legs. Biting back a moan, you began to move against her.

Anas hands, in the meantime, had slipped under your jersey, exploring your skin with the lightest touch.

You knew you should not but you could not stop yourself. It was as if your body had taken control, taking what it had craved for so long.

Ana was in the motion of finally pulling your jersey over your head and your body tingled with excitement, when the door to the changing room was opened.

“Girls, we’re going to party!“, Keiras voice announced, before stopping herself. “Oh, seems like you already started.“

“Come back later.”, the Swiss woman told the midfielder in a casual tone as if the redhead couldn’t see the messy state, you two were in.

“See you girls.”, she muttered and closed the door again much to your own relief.

“Oh my god, that was embarrassing.”, you mumbled against the older player’s chest.

“Whatever. As if she cares.”, Ana shrugged.

“Right, Laura will distract her from what she just saw.”, you smirked while you thought about the happy couple.

“I’m sure.”, the blonde nodded.

“Thank god.”, you sighed, forever gratefully for the Austrian footballer.

“She came in at the worst time though. I was just getting into it.”, the older woman whispered into your ear, although you couldn’t see her face you could hear from her voice that she was smiling.

“Need a reminder where we stopped?”, you looked up to her, eyes sparkling.

“No. Come here.”, Ana shook her head, before continuing what she started, her touches even hungrier than before.

In between you put your hand on her body middle to stop her, asking the one question which was burning hot on your tongue:” Did you miss me in Madrid?”

“Of course. Every day.”, the Swiss player answered truthfully.

 “When why didn’t you say everything? You were multiple times in Barcelona.”, you pressed on.

“You know why.”, she responded quietly, while tucking in a loose string of the hair behind your ear.

“Because it would have made it worse.”, you replied.

“But it was worth to wait.”, Ana said winking, alluding to the fun you had only minutes earlier.

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”, you laughed at her playful mood.

“Maybe I’m.”, she admitted seriously.

“To be fair so am I.”, you confessed, remembering how the blonde was till able to make your legs go weak.

“Looks like we both are.”, the Swiss woman smiled sadly. There was a melancholy air surrounding your ex-lover and you which couldn’t be waved off.

“Yes, seems like it.”, you agreed.

“So.. want to continue making out or..?”, Ana quickly distracted you from the thoughts which tinted everything sepia coloured like it was a moment from the past, but actually everything what happened was in the present.

“No, let’s stop talking and continue kissing.”, you decided, while turning your words into actions. She gladly obliged to your decision.

In the morning you awoke to Alexia’s cheerful voice, of course your captain was already up:” Y/n, wake up, we got to go!”

Your heart sank when you turned your head to Ana whose eyes were still closed, her arms wrapped around you:” Ana? I’ve to leave.”

“Okay, Barca needs you, I understand that.”, she responded, although the older woman hasn’t let you go yet.

The light of the sun fell through the curtain and gave everything it touched a warm glow including her.

“You can sleep a little longer.”, you offered her heavy-hearted.

“No.“, Ana said. Her voice was still a little hoarse from the sleep but she sounded determined.

“No?“, you echoed.

Ana pulled you closer, whispering into your ear: “I’ll think that I only dreamed this.“

“But it was real.“, you replied, studying her face thoroughly.

With a sigh, she finally let go of you. “Visit me in Madrid.“

A slight smile tugged on your lips as you crawled out of bed: “I’ll. See you there.“

Ana watched you while you got dressed: “Hopefully soon.“

“Promise.“, you said before you grabbed your bag and were out the door.

You could feel her gaze linger on your back as you left.

Alexia was already waiting for you. You were unable to interpret the look on her face but she was eyeing you cautiously as though she was searching for a hint.

When you approached her, she only let out a breath: “You girls.“

You rolled your eyes: “Don’t say anything, Alexia.“

Your captain remained unimpressed by that. Instead, she shrugged with a smirk: “I have to.“

“Fine but quick.“, you gave in. All you wanted to do was go home to Barcelona and sort your thoughts.

Alexias smile grew wider: “You’re the same kind of idiots.“

“Rude.“, you said, more amused than offended.

“It’s true.“

“Maybe a bit… She asked me to visit her in Madrid.“, you admitted quietly.

Your teammate nodded slowly, seemingly unsurprised: “She means it. You two miss each other.“

“I hate that I love her…“

“You can hate it all you want but you need her.“, Alexia replied calmly.

“You’re right.“

You had to finally admit it, your captain knew you better than anyone else on the team. Maybe she was right. Maybe all the hatred and pain you had felt had been unnecessary. Maybe there was an easy solution to this ache you felt in your chest.

That was how you found yourself in Madrid on your next free day. Your heart thumped against your chest as you waited on Anas door step.

Finally, the door opened and her face appeared in the gap.

“Hi.“, you said softly.

A smile of pleasant surprise appeared on Anas lips. “Hi. Come in.“

[moonstruckme]

Hello my lovely!! Could I have a cute thingy with Remus getting the reader flowers, but plot twist she has never gotten flowers 🤔🤔 I feel you would do amazing with this 💕 kinda like outspoken but shy about affection reader

Thanks for requesting my love! (haha get it?)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 593 words

Remus tries not to take it personally when you open the door and your eyes go straight to the flowers bunched in his hand rather than his face. 

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting up to his. You look surprised, but the happy kind, and Remus smiles. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

He almost wonders if he’s gotten the time wrong. “I, um, I thought we were going for coffee about now.” 

“Yeah.” Your smile turns bemused (still happy, though, so Remus tries not to worry about it too much). “I was just about to head out, I thought I was meeting you there.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy miscommunication. I figured I was picking you up. You look very pretty, by the way.” 

It’s a simple truth, but you go shy nonetheless, looking up at him through your lashes as your shoulders come up almost imperceptibly. Remus wishes he could squeeze you. “Thanks. So do you.” 

He knows you’re just returning the compliment, but if he thinks about you calling him pretty for too long he’ll get as bashful as you and then no one will do the talking. “Thanks, love. These are for you, by the way.” He draws your attention back to its true object, holding the modest bouquet of daisies up for you to take. 

“For me?” You manage to seem genuinely surprised, as if Remus might have come to pick you up for a date and brought flowers for somebody else. You take them delicately, bringing them to your nose for a sniff. Remus winces (they don’t smell like anything, he checked), but you don’t seem to notice, beaming at him. “Remus, this is so sweet of you!” You go inside, motioning for him to follow. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say.” 

“It’s no problem.” He stands awkwardly by the door as you find a vase in one of your cabinets and start filling it from the tap. “Standard date rules, you know?” 

You shake your head, smiling down at your hands as you snip the ends of the stems off with scissors. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you say, softly enough that Remus could almost miss it, that he wonders if you’re even talking to him.

He blinks at you. “Seriously?”

You give a little shrug, seeming almost embarrassed by your admission. “Yeah.”

There’s an odd conflict between pride and dismay happening in Remus’ chest. It’s sort of devastating to know that no one’s ever done something as simple as this for you before, but he’s happy to be the first.

“If I’d known these were your first gifted flowers,” he says, somewhat sheepish, “I would’ve gotten you something better than just whatever they had at the grocery.” 

The look you give him as you emerge from behind the counter, flowers arranged carefully in your vase, borders on offense. “Remus, these are gorgeous,” you chide. “I really love them, thank you so much.” 

He still feels you deserve better, but he can’t possibly argue with you when you’re being so lovely. He’ll have to make it up next time. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Are you ready to go?” 

You nod cheerily, and it doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t shy from the endearment like you usually would. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the smile still lingering on your lips from the surprise of the flowers, but Remus works up the courage to reach for your hand after you lock your front door behind you. When he gives your fingers a little squeeze, you squeeze back.

[calypsocolada]

THE GREATEST | s. gojo

synopsis: the greatest has taken in interest in you. authors note: hello. rough two weeks huh. there are no spoilers in this for chapter 261 fyi. ive decided us gojo stans should just steal him from his creator. Who's in? also i am pretty sure this is the longest fanfic I wrote. I was continusly writing for almost a week after that last chapter. OH AND the song the greatest by billie eilish is about gojo and its devastating. this fic is loosely based of the song. cw: ANGST, light smut, happy ending (he deserves it), no spoilers, death impications, fem reader wc: 6.1k

click here for my masterlist

--------------------------------------------------------

Gojo had never once questioned his fate. He’s known since he was able to think for himself that he was the strongest. That he was the monster people could turn to to fight the other monsters. He never minded. Not much at least. He knew it was grossly unfair. Knew such a fate pressed on anyone else would have him up in arms but… no one was up in arms for him. No one stood between him and the monsters. No one could. That should’ve hurt him and if he was being completely transparent and honest… it used to. When he was a teen and wasn’t able to hide his emotions as well as he could now. He was a weapon to everyone in the jujutsu society. A weapon and a monster and a savior and the greatest that ever lived. He was revered by his fellow colleagues. Was cheered by his students. He was the greatest weapon to ever live. 

But not to you. Not in the ways that mattered to most at least.

A measly second grade sorcerer with little to no battle experience. One that spends her time mostly in the background. Wasting away with Ino. Annoying Nanami. Steering clear of the greatest. When you first came around Gojo was sort of intrigued with you. You were quite pretty, smart and had a smile that made others smile. Gojo liked that about you. He’d do his usual routine… It usually worked. Usually… Gojo would annoy you, he’d try and charm you, he’d flex his powers in front of you and buy you sweets you didn’t ask for. Nothing worked.

When he flirted you’d make this face and although he liked the face you’d make he knew you weren’t impressed with him. It was like you saw right through his bravado. Saw right through the mask he wore, right down to the raw center of him. He knew you saw something sad. He tried to ignore it. Tried to misdirect your intuition but god you were persistent. You were smart. Smarter than anyone he’d ever known. And empathic as hell. It was frustrating. Not a single soul saw him the way you did. And it was all for nothing. You didn’t like him the way he’d come to hopelessly like you. And it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Gojo really tried to make you laugh but you never laughed when he wanted you to, never laughed when he made an effort to. You only laughed when he least expected it. Never when he was loud and boisterous but rather in quiet moments. Moments when he forgot to act like the greatest. Moments when he was Gojo Satoru and not the greatest. That’s how he knew you saw right through him. 

There was an instance when you completely threw him into a crisis. It was after a particularly gruesome fight. After all was said and done people clapped him on the back, congratulating him on another easy win. Gojo approached you, hoping for that same kind of hollow congratulations but you didn’t give it to him. You asked him if he was alright. Gojo remembered just standing there, remembering the full ache in his chest, the way you looked up at him with concern. No one ever was concerned for him. He replied something jovial. “Of course, don’t you know who you’re talking to?” And he smiled. But you didn’t return that smile as though he reassured you, you smiled sympathetically and replied.

“Must've forgot.” And then you slipped away. Gojo watched you walk away. Watch Ino run up and grab you by the shoulders. Watched you laugh freely and shake your head at something he said before the two of you left. 

A week later Gojo had conned Nanami into having some drinks with him. They sat beside each other, Gojo talking to fill up the dead space and Nanami chugging his third drink. 

“Are Y/n and Takuma dating?” Gojo had slipped into the conversation. Nanami gave him a sideways look. 

“I don’t know.” Nanami replied after a moment, it sounded more like ‘I don’t care’. 

“You’re with them all the time.”

“They’re with me. They bug me.” Nanami sees straight as Gojo sighs. 

“So they bug you. But do they do it together?”

“What a stupid question.” Nanami admonishes, shaking his head. “Why are you asking?”

“Just curious.”

“About Y/n?” Nanami asked and Gojo couldn’t help but look over at him. Nanami wasn’t much of a gossiper, he listened but that was the extent of it. Nanami softly chuckled at the older man’s response and shook his head once more. “No.”

“No, what?”

“They’re not together.”

That was all Gojo needed. He’d never felt threatened before but after seeing you and Takuma together the other day it made him wonder. Well, more than wonder if his lack of sleep the night before proved anything.

The next time Gojo saw you, you were having a quiet lunch in the courtyard. You had a book held lazily in your hand, the other popping grapes into your mouth. Gojo sighed, he’d tried talking to you many times before but his showboating kept you further than arms length. But if he didn’t have his ego to hide behind… What did he have? 

“It’s creepy to watch girls eating from afar.” You called over your shoulder. Gojo startled at the sound of your voice, his heart thumping unsteadily in his chest. You turned and when your eyes met his knees almost buckled. He thought for a moment, after his cheeks flushed red, that you smiled. It was a small smile, the corner of your lips barely turning up before you turned back away from him and to your book. He’d talked up many girls. But none of them made him stumble like you did. Nevertheless, Gojo walked forwards to you. 

“Thought you were out on a mission?” He asked as you flipped the page of your book, not meeting his eyes. 

“Keeping tabs on me?” She asked lazily as Gojo felt his throat tighten. He cleared it and shook his head. 

“Just something I was told.” He says and you scoot over, patting the spot beside you. Gojo stood there stuck for a moment. You usually couldn’t get away from him fast enough but here you were, inviting him to spend a moment with you. You looked up when he didn’t take your offer and cracked a brow up.

“Are you busy?” You asked. Gojo instantly shook his head, coming out of his little stuttered trance. He sat down beside you and reached for some of your grapes without asking. You didn’t say anything about it, just placed your bookmark in your book and sat it down on the blanket you’d spread out. “I wanted… to ask you something?” You said after a beat. Gojo’s eyes flicked to yours and up this close he noticed two things, your eyes had specks of gold in them and there was the lightest dusting of freckles across the top of your nose. He realized he was staring at you too long and recovered by grabbing more grapes. 

“Hmm, what is it?” He asks as he pops a few in his mouth. 

“Do you like sorcery?” The question hung in the air for a moment. Gojo was silent. He’d… never thought about if he liked it before. Never thought about whether these powers he possessed was something he truly wanted or if it was something he needed. 

“Why- do you ask?” Gojo asks, his eyes fixed straight ahead rather than on you. 

“Just curious.” You said softly. Gojo couldn’t help but look over at you now. 

“Of course I like it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He answered and the words tasted sour in his mouth. And just like before you gave him that look, just a small squint of the eyes, your lips pursing barely. He could tell straight away that you heard his lie. You hummed as though intrigued and shifted your stare to be less piercing. 

“What’s so great about it?” You asked as Gojo swallowed. 

“I’m good at it. I’m the strongest.”

“Yes… everyone is aware you’re the strongest, Satoru.” You brushed off, slightly playfully. Gojo couldn’t get over you saying his name. Saying it that way, with the tiniest emotion in your voice, what he hoped was affection. 

“Are you?” Gojo asked. You raised a brow, cocking your head just slightly. 

“Am I what?”

“Aware that I’m the strongest.” He says as you blow out a laugh. A laugh, he made you laugh. He recorded it in his mind. He knew he’d probably not get another one of those in a while. 

“You don’t let anyone forget it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You go out of your way to prove it. You kill curses that other sorcerers can easily take care of. You put yourself in harm's way over and over again just to get a slap on the back. Of course I know you’re the strongest.” 

“I don’t do it for a slap on the back.” Gojo dismisses. 

“Why do you do it?”

“Because I have to.”

“Because you have to?” You echo and Gojo nods his head. You stare at him for a moment, before responding. “Cause you’re the strongest.” You didn’t say it as though it was a good thing, you said it as though it was his burden. Something heavy that weighed on his shoulders. It hit him deep. You knew him too well. He felt overexposed at this moment. 

“I don’t see anyone else riding my level.” He says, hoping he sounded level, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him. 

“No one’s doubting your skill, Satoru.”

“You seem as though you doubt it.” 

“I doubt your intentions.”

“My intentions? What do you think I’m secretly going to let curses in to kill all of you?” He laughs sardonically, a little bitterly. Bitter that she saw him in a worse way than he originally thought. You laughed again, it was more of an exhale through the nose but it was another laugh. Two in one day. 

“No. I don’t think that.”

“What do you think?” Gojo couldn’t help but sound the smallest bit desperate. This is the most you two have kept up a conversation and he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to talk to you all day, maybe all night, although that was entirely too much to ask for. It's not like he ever asked for anything for himself before. But he wanted this badly. A normal conversation with someone who seemingly didn’t hold him up on a pedestal. 

“I told you already.” You said, reaching for your book. It was like an unspoken end to the conversation. But Gojo didn’t want it to end. 

“Please, don’t,” He says suddenly and your hand pauses on the spine of your book. You looked over at him and Gojo knew he wasn’t fast enough to cover the desperation. You swallowed and fixed him with a look. 

“I think you’re the strongest sorcerer to ever live.” You spoke as though any louder and someone would overhear you. Your voice soft and eyes piercing into his. His heart stuttered at your words. To know you did think of him. He glanced at your lips as they parted to speak another sentence. “But that’s all you think you are. Just the strongest weapon. Not a person with thoughts and feelings.” You say and Gojo can’t help but stare, can’t help but know he never tricked you, not one bit. 

“That’s… dark.” He tried to laugh, and tried to lighten the mood. You gave him a smile, one that stuttered his heart. 

“Sure is.” You affirmed. Your hand let go of your book as you reached in your cooler and grabbed two drinks out, offering him one. Slowly he took it. “Or maybe I’m wrong.” You say before taking a sip. “Maybe it’s not that deep.” Gojo takes a sip of his own drink and stays silent. Unsure of whether to bear his heart to you or keep quiet. The strongest would keep quiet. He’d bottle things up, after all being strong means you can take care of yourself. But Gojo found himself wanting to spill his darkest secrets to you. The cunning sorcerer that calls him out. The one he can’t look away from. 

“Maybe.” He says finally and the moment is over. He feels hollow. Especially with the way you glance at him, as though somewhat disappointed that there wasn’t more to him but a smiling face and quick witted words. The age old question came back to him. 

Are you strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you are the strongest? 

Was strength a part of his identity or was his entire being centered on strength? He certainly didn’t want it to be everything he was but that’s all most people saw when they looked at him. Gojo drank another drink and leaned back on his hands. 

“Do you ever think of what you would be if you weren’t a sorcerer?” He asked suddenly. Your eyes cut over to him as you lowered your drink from your lips. It was clear you weren’t expecting that question but at the same time you knew exactly what to say. 

“I’m a shit sorcerer.” You said self-deprecatingly. “So I think about it all the time.”

“You’re not so bad.” He says as you turn to look at him. There was a hint of a smirk on your lips. 

“Liar.” You admonished jokingly, barely shaking your head. “I know my flaws.” 

“What flaws?”

“Alright, sweet talker.”You laughed and Gojo could swear he saw a hint of red on your cheeks. You shook your head as though to keep yourself from laughing more. So this is what it was like? This is who Takuma got to sit and joke around with all day long? Gojo felt sickly jealous when that thought crossed his mind. That he’d wasted all this time trying to flirt with you when he could’ve just talked to you. Sure he still wanted more than what you’d probably give him but this slightest bit of attention could probably keep him afloat for months. You ran a hand through your hair and sighed. “You know… I haven’t told anyone this but… I’ve been thinking of quitting.” You said. Gojo couldn’t help but react. Quit? Is that something you could just do? 

“And do what?” 

“My parents own a coffee shop back in America, they wanted me to work there out of high school but… you know this seemed more exciting. Now the prospect of fixing someone's coffee seems more exciting than facing some horrific curses.” You explained as Gojo smiled softly, nodding his head along to your words. He thought about it. Thought about coming into work, you waved him over as you explained some gossip about the other workers. Him tying your apron on and kissing your cheek, you ruffling his hair and smiling up at him. Fixing coffee for a living. Would he be the greatest at that? “I think…” you started, snapping him out of his reverie. “I think I might do that.” Gojo’s brows shot up. 

“Hmm?”

“Fix coffee. I was good at it in high school. And… I miss my family. I’ve lived too far for too long.” You said, a dreamy far off look in your eyes. Gojo can’t help but feel sort of lost. You leaving was something he never expected. People didn’t leave the Jujutsu world unless it was in a body bag. Gojo didn’t know there was another way. 

“You’ve never told anybody else this?” Gojo asks as you look over at him, the ghost of a sweet smile on your lips. 

“You’re… easier to talk to than I thought.” You said and Gojo raised his brows. 

“What do you mean?” He asks softly. 

“I just mean… easier to talk to than before. Before when you’d flirt with me incessantly.” You joke as Gojo reddens. He thought you hadn’t even noticed his attempts but not only did you notice but you avidly avoided him. Gojo bites hit to, cheeks blushing in embarrassment at this revelation. 

“I’m… sorry.” He bleated, shaking his head. You laughed, biting your lip. 

“I didn’t necessarily say I didn’t enjoy... some of it.” You said and when Gojo looked over at you, eyes hopeful Takuma called out across the lawn. You looked at the other man as he pointed to his watch and waved you over to hurry. “Oh shit. Sorry, Satoru. Gotta get going.” You said jumping up. Gojo followed, helping you gather your stuff up. When he handed you the blanket your hand brushed against his sending chills across his body. You gave him a kind smile and waved as you went to meet with Takuma. Gojo stared for a moment before his feet moved on their own. 

“Wait… Y/n,” he called out as you slowed, turning. “If you leave… to go home. I’d like to visit… sometime.” He stumbled through his words, you made him feel like a teenager again.  You gave him a look, an amused look, eyes lighting up. 

“Anytime, I’ll fix you my favorite.” You said and then you turned and met with Takuma. 

Gojo thought about that day all week long. Your voice swimming through his mind. How pretty you looked when he made you laugh. He didn’t flirt, or crack jokes the entire time. He just talked to you. And you seemed to like that. You seemed to like the real him. Not the him he plays up for everyone else. He thought himself into a hole so he got out of bed and winded his way through the hallways towards the lounge, a nice cup of hot tea might help him settle down. When he pushed the door open there you were. Sat at a table, sipping from one of Nanami’s cups. Gojo couldn’t help but show surprise on his face at seeing you up this late. You looked up and when your eyes met Gojo’s words died on his lips. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked as Gojo cleared his throat, nodding his head. “Me neither.” You remarked with a gentle shrug of your shoulders. Gojo fixed himself a cup of tea and sat down across from you. 

“Why can’t you sleep?” He asked. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. 

“I got a flight in the morning. I’m sort of— uncomfortable with flying.” You said as Gojo couldn’t help but softly smile at you. It was endearing to him that you’d lose sleep over something like that. You gave him a look and barely smirked, shaking your head.

“Where you headed?” He asks. The smile on your lips slightly falters. 

“You didn’t hear?” You ask as Gojo’s brows furrow. He shakes his head. “I did it. Like we talked about a week or so ago. I’m headed home.” You say and Gojo can’t help but let his lips fall open in surprise again. Thinking about it was one thing but doing it so soon had his stomach in knots. You stared at him, drinking in his minuscule reactions. “Today was my last day.” You added as though that would soothe the pain in his chest. He couldn’t look up any longer so he let his eyes fall on his steaming cup of tea. 

“Oh.” Was all he said. Anything more would’ve been too revealing. 

“I— meant to tell you but… you’re so busy all the time.” You said and Gojo looked up then. You didn’t owe him your apologies. 

“It’s fine. You— we talked about it. I just didn’t think you’d want to leave so soon.”

“I’ve been itching to leave for months.” You said with a small turn of your lips. “This job isn’t for the weak and although I’m not entirely terrible I’m not exactly good either.” You laughed. Gojo shook his head, he disagreed with that both times you said it, but he didn’t voice it this time cause it seemed you understood. “It might be childish but I just miss home.” You sigh as Hojo shakes his head immediately. 

“It’s not childish.” He says and finally your guys' eyes meet. You’d be gone in the morning for good and Gojo hadn’t so much as gotten to know you passed a few brief talks. He felt slighted. It was his fault of course but he couldn’t help the bitter feeling that left him wanting more. 

“I… wish we could’ve talked like this sooner, we could’ve been friends.” You said and it was like the nastiest stake to the heart. He knew you didn’t mean it to hurt him because you didn’t know how he felt and he couldn’t only blame himself for that. 

“I do too.” He said softly. You two couldn’t look away from one another. Something dangerous growing, some tension that kept you rooted in this moment. Gojo was the strongest but you never really saw him with anyone. Sure he’d occasionally have drinks with Nanami but for the most part he was alone. It felt stupid to feel anything now, with you leaving in the morning. And unbeknownst to Gojo you had something that formed over the few years you knew him. He intrigued you, he was so strong so sure of himself one moment but there was this look in his eyes. Like a scream for help. He was constantly sent on missions alone, he’d come back battered and bruised and smiling, a smile so fake to you but so real to the others that couldn’t see past it.

You tried once, pathetically, to ask him if he was alright and stupidly gave up when he kept that mask up. You just didn’t want to step over a line and push him further away. But the years you spent here you were unknowingly doing it anyways. Dodging his obvious attempts at flirting because you weren’t sure if they were sincere or not and you couldn’t stand the thought of getting hurt. But here you were, hours away from never seeing this man again. You lied about being afraid of flights, you flew many times. The reason you couldn’t sleep was because of the ‘what if?’. What if you had flirted back years ago? Would you be hurt and jaded towards him? Or wouldn’t you have cracked through something deeper? Would you two be together? Would you be here? Watching him being used by a society that doesn’t care for him or would you steal him away from all this? Take him home and have him fix coffee at your side. Would he be happy or would he be bored? Gojo’s eyes glanced at the clock on the stove.

“It’s getting late. You should try to sleep so you don’t miss your flight.” He said, drinking the last of his tea. 

There was some sort of finality to that. You nodded your head, drinking the rest of yours as well. You stood up and walked to the sink, running water and washing your cup. When you turned the water off and dried your hands, Gojo approached. He sat his mug in the sink. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating something then spoke in an almost whisper. 

“Fuck it.” Before you could begin to ask he turned, hands sliding over your cheeks and bent to press his lips gently against yours. You froze. The kiss was unexpected and stomach achingly tender. Gojo kissed you as though he loved you. With gentleness and persistence. He stepped closer, your body trapped between his own and the counter. 

No, no, no… you thought. 

Why kiss me when I’m leaving? 

But there wasn’t a bone in you that didn’t want this and the revelation was anything but not obvious. You’d know with startling accuracy that you wanted this to happen. You just wished it would’ve happened sooner. You felt the kiss deepen. Gojo ducking his head ever so closer. One hand trailing down from your face, light fingers dancing down your shoulder, past your arm around your hip, fingers gripping and pulling you flush against him. You made a soft noise, your stomach bottoming out as Gojo’s mouth cracked yours open. His hand slid beneath your butt and with ease he picked you up with that one hand and sat you carefully on the counter. The hand on your cheek slid behind your head so you didn’t bump against the cabinets. You two stay like that for a while, feeling out the boundaries that were breaking by the second.

Gojo brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and trails kisses from your lips to your cheek to your jaw and neck. Your head falls back and to the side, your hands softly gripping the front of his shirt, something to keep you the least bit grounded in the moment. You needed to be grounded while Gojo was absolutely drunk on you. He couldn’t believe this was happening, all he knew was that he wouldn’t squander this moment. When you left he wanted you to remember him. You shiver at the sudden more feverish kisses and slide your cold hand beneath his shirt. Gojo doesn’t even jump, he makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

His grip on your hip tightening just slightly before sliding around your back, his warm fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. You arched closer to him as he moved his lips back to yours, you met his lips with the same fevered kisses as him. You gently tugged Gojo’s shirt up and he moved away from your lips temporarily to let you tug his shirt over his head. His body was scared and lean, you traced a few of his scars with a light tip of the finger and when you looked back up at him he was looking at you with a curious expression. You cleared your throat. 

“Do you want to do this now? Here?” You asked, gesturing to the dimly lit lounge. 

“Do you?” He turned it back on you, his voice wrecked with wanting. You could see the answer clearly in his eyes, he didn’t care where you two were. He’d want you regardless. You thought about it. Was it meaningless to do it here? Would it be better to take him to your room? You were leaving for good in the morning, would it be a mistake to have a one night stand with the strongest? But the wording of one night stand seemed cruel, seemed so unlike what you two were actually doing. It felt deeper. And if it was deeper, were you going home tomorrow with a torn heart? Your hands were still on his stomach, still pressed near a scar. You did want this… but you couldn’t want it. That was the thing all along. Satoru Gojo was going to get himself killed one day. Sure he was the strongest but you could see him wearing down. The scars weren’t healing, he looked tired. Getting involved with him was insuring yourself of a broken heart. You sighed and shook your head. 

“We… shouldn’t.” You said and you couldn’t look up at him. You didn’t want to see how he would react. If you did look up at him you’d see just how much two words could break Satoru Gojo. He couldn’t mask it anymore. He wanted so badly to mean more to you. He wanted to be bare in front of you and for you not to flinch away. But you were flinching away and he knew it. It made him sick. Gojo grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. Your hands fell away from him as you slid off the counter top. 

“Can… I ask why?” He said and you knew it wasn’t about sleeping together. It was the deeper sort of question. 

“Cause you’d break my heart.” You answered simply. Gojo looks at you. Break your heart? He’d rather die than do that. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his voice soft, he wasn’t angry, just wanted to understand. 

“You’re… Satoru Gojo,” you gestured. “You’re the strongest. The greatest sorcerer. You… don’t make time to be anything but that.” You say, eyes meeting his for the first time since your rejection. And then he understood your meaning. 

“What if I did? What if I left it behind?”

“What if?” You asked back. “You’d need something more fulfilling to fill in the gap.” You supplied. 

“I found something like that.” He says suddenly.

“Like what?”

“You.” For a moment you two stare at each other. 

“I can’t… I don’t want to stay here.”

“I’m not asking you to stay. I— I’m asking you to let me come with you.” Your eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. You were shocked by his words. Spoken with such conviction. 

“Satoru…” you said, unable to quite grasp this statement yet. 

“I mean it. I… I could go with you. Work beside you… be with you… if you’ll have me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am deadly serious, Y/n. I’m not willing to sit here and pretend like you don’t mean everything to me. You’ve consumed my every waking moment. You’re all I can think about, all I dream about. I— I fear if I stay behind and don’t take this chance… I might as well just end up dead.”

“Oh...” But his confession was breathtaking. Your heart was in your throat, beating and causing words to falter. 

“I’ll be your friend if you want. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Just,” he takes a step closer and you have a sick feeling he’s never wanted something for himself as much as he wanted you at this moment. “Take me with you.” Your throat went dry as you gazed up at him. The things you were afraid of, of him choosing to stay, of him fighting alone and fighting to his grave had vanished in an instant with his words. So he was willing to choose between you and sorcery. Not only willing but had made his choice long ago and just now felt confident enough to let you in on it. Not to mention he’d made this decision long before your two’s lips even touched, that was a whole other story to unfold. His feelings for you were much deeper than you previously thought. Those dreams of stealing him away from the people that used him had dropped, real and tangible, in your hands. Your mind swam. 

“Don’t… you think you’d get bored?” You asked, but your head tilted and there was the ghost of a smile on your lips. All the tension that had been wrecking Gojo’s body soothed right at that moment. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“No. I really don’t think I would.” He answers earnestly. That ghost of a smile turned into a full formed apparition of a smile as you laughed. 

“We’ll see about that.” You said and you barely got the words out before he was kissing you again. No warning, all urgency. To feel you again. “Should we go back to my room?” You whispered as the kiss grew slightly more heated. 

“Mhm hm.” Gojo hummed, picking you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise as he walked towards your room. 

“You’re an idiot.” You laughed quietly. 

“What? You’d think I’d let you walk all the way there?” He asks teasingly as you dissolve into quiet giggles. 

“All the way there,” you mocked with a shake of the head. “Like I don’t do it everyday.” 

“Not on my watch.” He says, rounding the corner to your room. 

“What— what the hell?” You heard Nanami’s voice then and your face went bright red. Gojo didn’t sit you down, just tipped his head to the blond man and kept walking. You on the other hand covered your face and silently cursed Gojo out. 

“You have a filthy mouth.” Gojo said as he rounded the final corner, your room steps away. 

“Set me down you idiot.” You groaned. And he did but the moment your feet touched the floor his lips were back on yours, pressing you into your closed door. The kiss was needy. He must’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you in the first place. Those first two kisses were something but this one was different. It was like he’d rather kiss you than breathe as you fumbled with the lock and opened the door.

You two tumbled inside, Gojo catching the door in his hand and pushing it shut behind you two as you stumbled towards the bed.  Gojo couldn’t go another day without choking out what you meant to him, without showing you. He could feel it in his shoulders when he breathed, feel it in the uncomfortable twist and flip his heart would do around you. Could feel it swirling around in his sleepless nights. He was going to show it to you. Going to convey exactly what he felt.

He pressed his kisses harder, pushed you against the bed. Kissed any surface of your body his lips could find. Savored the noises you made. You spoke muffled against his neck, his name, the sound so sweet and utterly perfect on your lips. He never cared much for his name until he heard you speak it. He exhales sharply, his breath shuddering. He feels your deft fingers slide beneath his shirt again then to the waistband of his pants. You pause and when he speaks a shaky please you slip the pants down past his hips and he kicks the useless thing fully off. He does the same for you and suddenly you both are undressed. Equal, more or less. He kisses you a few more times to hide his nerves and just for a moment lets himself slip into the role of the strongest. He takes the lead, his hands parting your thighs as he trails kisses to your neck. He lines himself up, your hand just barely guiding him, there’s not much thoughts that go into his brain when he enters you. You both make a sound in the dark. Your hands sliding around him to his back, nails digging in there. 

“Satoru…” You whimper and he has to will himself not to come right then and there. He goes slow at first, letting you get used to the size. Your bodies are pressed together, he’s practically crushing you beneath him but you wouldn’t have it any other way. One of your hands grabbed his chin, yanking his lips against yours as he picked up his pace. He swallowed your moans and vice versa. He ground his hips against yours, loving the hitch in your breath. He did it again and again until you couldn’t kiss him back anymore and he couldn’t keep his head up, it fell into the crook of your neck as you came together. you both pull back, exhausted and Gojo’s surprised when you start laughing. He stares at you open mouthed, never once after doing something like that with a girl had she started laughing after. “S-sorry,” you giggled, shaking your head. He smiles despite not knowing what you found so amusing. “That was… well I’m sure you know you’re good.” You blushed. “I just— it’s a bit unbelievable.”

“Hmm? What is?” Gojo asks as he pulls the cover up to shield you from the cold of your room. 

“I was just… very wrong about you. For a long time. That’s all.” You said as you sat up, grabbing your night clothes and slipping them back on. Gojo does the same and expects that you’ll kick him out to sleep in his own room. “Hey,” you call out, patting the bed next to you. “Stay the night.” You say. You don’t have to tell him twice, he’s already practically back in your bed by the end of your sentence. You pull him close, laying your head against his chest as his arm winds around you. “I’m a clingy sleeper, just so you know.” You say and Gojo lets his eyes fall closed, a content smile on his lips as he kisses the top of your head. 

“So am I.” He whispers back to you, slightly turning to pull you closer to him. He feels you hum a laugh. For the first time in years Gojo fell asleep with ease, he didn’t have to be haunted with visions of you because you were real and tangible against him. And he’d never felt more fulfilled, more excited to leave all this bullshit behind and not be the greatest for once.

[machveil]

https://www.tumblr.com/notsomellowarchiveofchaos/763543186075467776/sweetheartunhingedghost-anyone-twkidnapping?source=share

Ummm 👀👀

I SAW THIS WHEN IT WAS POSTED mhm, mhm, mhm - that’s the good stuff

I don’t condone this behavior - it’s just an interesting scenario. I’m just building off the original post, definitely recommend reading that and coming back CW: glossed over kidnapping, manipulation, well-meaning actions turned obsessive, big fat dose of angst

Simon lacked control growing up - his father was a constant threat. joining the military and becoming a Lieutenant gave him the control he sought, he didn’t think it’d carry into anything else. sure, his home was something he could control, the condition of his car, his body, how people saw him, those were within his grasp too

but never you, and he was okay with that. you’re your own person, an adult that doesn’t need him to be controlling - you have control over your life. I think he’s proud of that, maybe something he can subconsciously bond over. but something outside of your control— outside of his control that takes you away? he’s devastated

I’d imagine you’ve been captured, presumed MIA/KIA - maybe the 141 found a recognizable piece of your gear. I’m leaning towards KIA for the angst of it because when you come back? Simon’s shattered over your appearance, battered and bruised, but still alive. his concern starts normally, keeping an eye on you as you recover, making sure you don’t have to lift a finger

but it starts to develop - and Simon is aware it’s becoming a problem. he wants you to start sharing your location constantly, if he knows where you are he can stop something from happening. he wants you to call him when you get somewhere and leave, he’ll know you can speak, can tell him you’re okay. he wants you to start bringing him with you— but he doesn’t say that yet. he knows that’s going a bit too far, you’re still your own person… but he needs to know you’re okay

it eats at him, the feeling that you could be taken away again. he’s had a lot taken away from himself, his early life, his family. he wants you to be able to go out and do things - he’s happy you feel safe enough to after what happened, but his head is messing with him. and it clicks, the dread of it making his shoulders tense a little, he can’t control your safety

for as big and strong as he is, as feared and respected, the world doesn’t care. there are people that don’t know Simon, that don’t care who he is, that could see you and make you disappear again. that haunts him for weeks. any time you’re within his view he’s moving next to you, behind you, anywhere he deems he needs to be. it’s for them. those three words run through his head when you look up at him, smile at him, cheek still a little bruised

it’s for them. that’s what he tells himself when he wraps an arm securely around your shoulders. it’s for them. looming figure shielding you from what he can. it’s for them. following next to you when you move, brown, nearly black eyes staring as his chest tightens. it’s for him

he’s sitting up at night, eyes staring dead forward at his wall. his phone, clutched in his calloused hand, illuminates his face. you’re home. you’re safe. but are you? what if someone is there? what if you can’t reach your phone? what if your phones dead? what if you’re—

tired eyes drifting down to his screen, his thumb grazes the screen as it dims, snapping it back to full brightness. your location is at home, where you should be asleep, should be safe. but all Simon can do is run through scenarios where you aren’t, scenarios he has no control over

maybe that’s why he asks you to move in with him. he doesn’t care - if you have a roommate, if you have a lease, if you feel safe. if you’re with him he can control your surroundings at home. he’ll know when you come and go, that everything is locked at night, that he can protect you. he’s not— he’s not controlling you, just— the environment. he’s controlling the environment, making sure you can rest easy at home, his home. that’s what he tells himself, hand on your back and cracking a smile when you give in

his rent is cheaper, that was a selling point. a quick walk to the store, near a gas station, the building itself was okay. “Are you sure you want me moving in? I’m fine at my place.”, your words are in one ear and out the other as Simon shrugs, “Safer, ‘sides, I’ll drive you ‘round, yeah?”. so you pack your things under the guise he just needed help covering rent, like hell, he makes enough

but that’s okay, you don’t have to know this is for Simon, his peace of mind. you can come and go as you please, but he knows where you’ll be sleeping, that he can protect you. Simon can control this - his job, his home, his appearance

it quells his fear for a week, he can sleep easier at night knowing you’re in his flat. until it isn’t okay anymore. you were both out, a friendly lunch when Simon’s gut twisted. his front door was open, splintered around the handle. whoever broke in was long gone, but that was enough for him. was it sudden for you? Simon telling you that’d you move out to the country? extremely

you argued this could’ve happened to anyone, nothing too valuable was taken and you both safe - a little frazzled, but physically okay. but Simon? he tuned you out, deaf to your complaints as he ushered you out the front door. for your safety, staying the night in a hotel where could he stay up and watch the door. better than staying at his flat for now, better than sleeping in a car

and, as much as he wants you to have your own control, another phrase worms it’s way into his mind. you’re his, no matter what your relationship looks like, you’re his - and Simon has control over what’s his. his job, his appearance, his teammate. he’d sooner set the world ablaze than let harm come to you again, and someone breaking into his apartment was the last straw. as much as he sees you as his, he also sees himself as yours. and maybe he’s become too loyal, too protective, too overbearing

it strains his heart when you tell him to let you go, that you want to leave, but the world is scary. as much as Simon wants you to be safe, that he tells himself this is for you, underneath it all?

Simon Riley is still just a scared little boy, rough hands grasping for stability. he pushes that down, focuses on what he can control, and right now - right now Simon has to protect you. if he can’t? then it all comes crumbling down