#anyway one more night. ten minutes maybe. we’ll see

[patheticpuppyboyslut]

sooooo i have to move into a new apartment and if i keep being a horny fucking cockslut its gonna be kind of disastrous. i think im gonna let myself cum tonight and maybe take the week off from touching myself. as if that were possible. i’m at least gonna have to limit myself. somehow. idk man im one month on T and im already dripping all over myself touching myself for strangers on the internet. where do i go from here 🫠

[bluemari23]

dazzling light || kim hongjoong

summary: your soul bond activates at a concert and you seriously doubt your actually going to be able to meet them, not when they are on the stage and more than likely can't see the soul light that surrounds you.

pairing: kim hongjoong x autistic reader

genre: soulmates, soul bonds, soul marks, fluff, some light angst

warnings: autistic reader, overstimulation, some slight panic,

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

---------------------------------

Despite your love for music, sometimes it could be too loud. Your ears ringing and sometimes you swore your brain actually shakes in your skull. The way you listened to music almost every second of the day was a surprise to some people, seeing as you were easily overstimulated and when too many things were happening at once, you used your noise canceling headphones for peace. 

You thought that a concert would be an isolated incident; Somewhere where you could only focus on the music and not on anything else. Where you could just feel the music and let your body sway to the rhythm. 

Finding out you had a soulmate at a concert was not on your plan for the night. 

And looking down at your wrist to see the gold letters building the name of your bias was also not on your plan for the night. 

For soulmates, soul bonds only activate when you are in the same room, gold letters representing the soul spell out the name of your soulmate. A gold light also surrounds the people within the bond so you could find your other half easier. 

But you knew who your other half was, and you doubted they could see you from the stage. 

You were seated near the front of the stage, a front row seat in the first part of the seated section. You had felt beyond lucky to get the seat, knowing how quickly the seats go and how easily the concerts sell out tickets. Now, you wonder if it was fate bringing you here. 

You anxiously sat, waiting for some kind of sign that he also sees you. But Hongjoong seemed to look almost everywhere but where you were seated. That was until he glanced at your section during Guerilla and seemed to do an obvious double glance. Everyone around you was screaming, thinking that he was looking at them, but you know differently. 

But then he didn’t look your way again. 

You couldn’t help but to think, maybe he doesn’t want a soulmate?

Did he see your soul light?

He probably isn’t interested in having a soulmate. Another person to depend on. It’s probably for the best anyways, with your disability anyways. You couldn’t always control your brain or the way your body took in stimuli. 

Seeing reason, you tried to just enjoy the rest of the concert, listening to Answer and then Crazy Form, which was one of your favorites. You followed the crowd and moved your light stick along with them. You even got up and danced for as long as you could handle. 

When the concert ended, though, you couldn’t help but to wait a couple minutes. You told yourself it was because you couldn’t handle the crowds trying to leave the stadium at the same time, but you knew it was because you hoped that he did want you, even the tiniest bit. 

After waiting about ten minutes, you gave up hope and started to grab your things. It was disappointing, but nothing you weren’t used to. Being a burden was unfortunately something you felt a lot, and this was nothing different. 

After grabbing your things, you began to make your way down the small walkway that led to the inner hallways of the stadium, out into the main concession area. You pass through the entryway only to bump into a large man in a stadium uniform. 

“Are you Ms. Y/n L/n?” The large man was imposing and his voice was deep and intimidating, making you hesitate for a couple of seconds before nodding your head, not wanting any trouble. 

“We’ll need you to come with us then.” You heard another voice, and someone pushed past the large and intimidating man to stand in front of you. 

This man was shorter, but still nonetheless intimidating. He wore a stern expression and his glasses reminded you of an old professor you had in college who loved to yell and throw things across the classroom when someone was talking during his lecture. It was safe to say you were now shaking in your shoes. 

The ma wore no indication of his position with regards to the stadium, and you were thoroughly confused now to what could be going on. 

“Is there something wrong, Sirs?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted to push out, showing how uncomfortable you were. 

The men just turned around and started walking, not even looking to see if you were following. But you did, entirely scared and uncomfortable and feeling entirely intimidated to do anything but what the men say. 

You followed them through a different hallway, one with the words “CREW ONLY” plastered to the front. You now went from being scared to freaked out. Your thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour until you ended up in front of a set of double doors that had the word “ATEEZ” printed on a sheet of paper and taped to the right-side door. 

Now, now you were completely frozen.

You swear your heart actually stopped. 

“Please.” The short man gestured you forward, knocking on the door for you without giving you a second to move. 

Before you could catch your breath, someone opened the door, a casual smile on their lips and a baggy but comfortable looking t-shirt with the new Ateez designs on it. You assumed this was one of the managers as he shook the smaller man’s hand and thanked them for bringing you here. 

“Hello, you must be Ms. Y/n?” The man then turned to look at you, his bright eyes centered on you and then your wrist where Hongjoong’s name resided in gold ink.

You just stared at the man, your obvious nerves showcased on your face, still completely frozen as you look up at him. 

“Please, don’t be nervous. Hongjoong is actually excited that we were able to find you still here and might actually start freaking out if we leave him in there with Wooyoung and Jongho’s teasing any longer.” The man cracks another warm-hearted smile at you before holding his hand out for you to take, a nice gesture. 

“How about we go and introduce you to your soulmate, hm?” The man, who still didn’t introduce himself moved behind you, hand hovering against your back as he opens the door again, the noise from inside becoming completely silent as you slowly moved inside. 

You saw Hongjoong first, his eyes catching yours as a large smile grows on his lips, his cheeks pushed wide as he does so. You then catch Wooyoung actually hanging off of the captain, Seonghwa trying and failing to get him off until you appear, both men slowly moving away from their leader. 

The soul light slowly dims until its gone when you are now only a couple feet apart. You could feel your body slowly relaxing as you got closer to your soulmate, something you’ve never felt before. Relaxation and peace were always hard to come by when your body always seemed to take in more stimuli that you could handle.

But you felt at ease, now an arm’s length away from the person you were destined for. 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Hongjoong spoke softly as if not wanting to break the moment between you. 

“Hi.” You smile a little, wanting to show him that you were okay, that you were okay with everything. 

“Why don’t we sit, get to know each other better.” He asked you, motioning to the now vacant couch behind you, big enough for the two of you. You also noticed the sneaky glances that the other Ateez members sent each other. 

“Okay.” You smiled at the boys as you passed by them, each of them introducing themselves to you as if you didn’t just attend their concert. 

You sat down, and before Hongjoong could pick another place to sit, every single other spot than the one beside you was taken by the boys. Hongjoong just took it in stride, sitting beside you as he dramatically shakes his head and sighs at his members actions. You couldn’t help but to let out a little laugh at their actions, trying to play matchmaker between soulmates. 

It was as if they all started speaking at once, the younger members just yelling out questions for you as you sat next to Hongjoong, Seonghwa trying but failing to reign them in, even if it was a half-hearted attempt at doing so. 

You didn’t even attempt to answer, seeing as you couldn’t distinguish a single question. Instead, you just took the hand that your soulmate offered you, shyly holding it in your grasp. 

“They’re always like this. I promise, they like you already.” Hongjoong leans down and whispers into your ear. You could hear the smile and adoration in his voice, something that made you smile again. 

“It’s okay. I can get used to it. I promise, I like them too.” You whisper back, looking up at him and watching as the look of adoration switches from his members to you. 

[xoxochb]

Hi!! It’s like my first time requesting so please prepare for the amount of times I type out ‘like’😭 I hope you have/had a good day!!

So percy is kind of like the person that everybody has had a crush on at least once, right?

Basically, percy likes the reader and let’s also say that they’re one of the most nicest people on camp but, today they’re kind of irritated because they had a bad day. To add onto it, percy tries to talk to reader but they’re like so irritated that they accidentally raise their voice at him and reader apologizes to percy. But this leaves percy kind of sad and he’s overthinking, reader—a few days after the incident—goes up to percy and apologizes, they give him like a small gift bag(??). Percy, having feelings for reader, is ecstatic/giddy because of this and is also kind of taken aback from this, he plays it off and acts all nonchalant about it but he somehow makes it so painfully obvious as well. So the whole day, he just kind of sits around and admires the reader.

But turns out that the reader also likes Percy and their siblings kind of tease them about the gift basket. The reader also admires percy whenever he’s not looking at them. (This can just be a little bonus!!)

If you need specifics, can the reader be from cabin 10/Aphrodite’s cabin (but like it’s up to you!!😭) and uhm maybe fem!reader (?)

Anyways, have a nice day!!🫶🫶

⋆·˚ ༘ * looking at you got me thinking nonsense

warnings: none

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

you were the camp sweetheart, a pure soul. everyone admired you and your generous demeanor, but today you were in an irritated mood from being packed with camp duties along with a few personal favors

it started this morning when you had gotten up early to the screaming of your siblings (they had been rudely accusing each other of stealing their clothes), then you had to help set up a breakfast double-date, archery practice after, you didn’t have time for lunch because one of your friends needed urgent love advice, then you had offered to wash the dishes after lunch, and now it’s four in the afternoon, you haven’t had any time to relax

even now when you were supposed to be relaxing you couldn’t find your favorite lipgloss so you had to tear up the cabin to find it, which you didn’t, because that’s what your still doing after twenty minutes of searching

but soon enough your search was interrupted by your favorite son of poseidon, percy jackson

you usually would have been happy to see him but today every little thing- even the smallest thing- would add on to your irritation

“I haven’t seen you all day” he states

“yeah, well, I’ve been busy. I don’t always have time to see you, you know?” you open one of your siblings drawers, disappointed to see your lipgloss was not there

percy knows something’s up because you never talk to anyone like that- especially him “are you alright? have you eaten today? I know you’ve been busy”

“I’m fine! If you really knew that I was busy you would leave me alone” you snap

he frowns at the tone of your voice “oh… I’m sorry. I’m gonna go, we’ll talk later?”

“whatever” you mumble

percy leaves cabin ten with a sad demeanor. what had he done to anger you? he lays awake that night wondering what he did so wrong to make you- the nicest girl he knew- out of all people so frustrated with him

little does he know, you lay awake also wondering why you snapped at him. he was only trying to be nice. he was concerned for you, he cared for you more than anyone and you treated him terribly

how could you make him forgive you?

💌

for the next few days you think of how you’re going to make it up to percy, he deserved more than just a simple ‘I’m sorry’

as your skipping rocks on the water you realize what you have to do. you quickly stand up and rush to the edge of the water, where you search for as many tiny seashells as you can find and once you get back to your cabin you begin making your present

when you finish it you put it in a small box with a pink bow on top- your specialty

unfortunately for you, you were caught by silena with the box in your hand

“what’s that?” she smirks

“it’s nothing, I have to go do something, sorry” you try to rush past her but she stops you

“who’s it for?”

“nobody”

“you’re not leaving until you tell me”

you sigh knowing this information was indeed true

“It’s for percy”

she nods with a victory smile knowing she’s got what she wants

“go get him”

you thank her before rushing to cabin three, which you find him exiting

“percy!” you run over to him “can we talk?”

“of course”

“great, uhm, so first I wanted to say that I’m so sorry for the other day, I was so busy and I had nothing to eat, not even a cup of coffee! you know how I get when I don’t have coffee. but anyways I was so irritated with everything, and you came in right when I was in the middle of looking for my lipgloss and I was getting angry because I couldn’t find it and I just took anger out on you, and I swear it had nothing to do with you, I lov- you’re my best friend, I would never mean to hurt you on purpose” you ramble “I made this for you” you hand him the small box

If you were anyone else percy would’ve hated getting a present with a pink bow on top, but since it was you he could never hate it

“as much as I love you giving me a gift… why are you giving me this?”

“I felt bad about the other day, you deserve more than just an apology”

percy was trying to act chill about this but it was you! the most gorgeous girl at camp- but if you asked percy he would’ve said in the universe.

and you were standing in with him in front of his cabin giving him a gift, looking at him with a loving look!! he swore his heart was about to explode out of his chest any moment

but besides his heartbeat, his face was adorned with a bright red hue “thank you” he tries to fight a wide grin, he didn’t want to appear as a lovesick fool (although the was)

“you’re welcome” you smile and plant a kiss on his red cheek “will I see you later?”

“yes! yeah, definitely, of course” he stumbles over his words

“great! you can come to my cabin after dinner, I’ll see you then!” you kiss his other cheek before giggling and skipping your way to the dining pavilion

💌

at dinner percy couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. how could he? that can’t be possible! you looked beautiful laughing with your siblings, and the sound of your laugh oh gods, it was oxygen to him, truly.

and your smile? don’t even get him started because he’ll never finish, he could go on about your smile for eternity

your voice? as soft as a newly washed blanket, he wanted your voice injected in his veins if that was even possible, which he was sure it wasn’t, but if there was a way he would do it

and over at aphrodite cabin you snuck glances over at percy whenever you could (which was whenever your siblings weren’t looking, they would tease you forever)

however every time you looked over his eyes were already on you, then you would both look away quickly trying to pretend you never made eye contact, but you both knew you did

the same way you both knew that tonight you would’ve gave percy the kiss he had been longing for since he first saw you under the twinkling moonlight

[hobie-enthusiast]

WITHOUT YOU !

— ‘hobie × reader angst where the reader doesn't know that hobie is spider punk and doing all these multiverse missions and is hurt by hobie having to flake out and miss dates or hang outs, hobie wants to reveal who they are but maybe saw a multiverse where that didn't end well?’

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— lots of angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, little blurbs and then a longer one

— duty calls hobie at the worst times, and you start to get weary of how he’s acting

— i had an inner debate with myself on ‘should i write a happy ending or sad ending’ so i compromised and did a poll (directly reuploaded from my old acc @/hobieenthusiast)

The first time Hobie Brown skipped out was three months into your relationship.

He wanted to take you to a local diner his friend owned. Hobie always wanted to support his fellow anarchists and friends in however they battle the corrupt world. And what better way than bringing his partner on a lovely date there?

He promised to meet you there. That he had something to take care of before he came.

You assumed maybe he was bringing a gift or had to change at his apartment beforehand. You know it would be okay, Hobie wouldn’t flake. Right?

Right?

You stood outside the diner in the cold air, waiting for Hobie to arrive. You had some paper flowers you created in your hand to give to him when he arrived (since of course you couldn't ever buy into capitalism). He was already about five minutes late at that point, but surely he had his reasons.

Five minutes turned into ten. Then ten to an hour. You went inside at some point to sit and wait for him, asking for some water and a coffee for when he got there. But after two hours, you lost any hope. You stood, paying for the undrunk coffee and tipping the waiter for dealing with you not ordering food.

Wasn't like you were hungry anyway.

As you were walking back to your apartment, you finally got a call from him. The adorable photo of the two of you along with 'Hobes <3' popped up, and you could only sigh as you picked up.

"Hobie?" You call out, holding the phone to your ear.

"[Name]!" He spoke on the other end, his voice sounding a little more upset and out of breath. "Sweetheart, 'm so sorry-"

You cut him off, shivering slightly. "Where were you? Actually, scratch that. Where are you?"

“Somethin’ came up, darlin’. ‘m so sorry. I called as soon as I could.”

He sounded genuine in his apology. You sighed, rubbing your eyes and keeping quiet for a little while. This stung, for sure. But if it was out of his control, could you blame him?

Hobie sighed on the other end. “I’ll make it up to ya, a’right? I’ll come ‘round tomorrow, we’ll go then, promise. That a’right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You respond, taking a deep breath. “Yeah that’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobes.”

You both say goodbye and hang up soon after. Hobie stayed true to his word and came by the next day with some hand-made gifts to apologize, taking you out to the diner. It turned out okay, you were grateful for that much. Surely that was a one time thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The second time Hobie Brown skipped out was on your four month anniversary.

The two of you agreed to not do much, just stay in and hang out. He even agreed to teach you some guitar! To say you were excited was an understatement.

He promised to come over around seven and spend the night. Hobie even wanted to make dinner together. Something you were again looking forward to.

His promise was genuine, so surely him being late wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

Right?

You put on a record onto your record player, one of the shared favourites between you and Hobie, playing the music throughout the apartment. You sat on your couch, fiddling with some of the pins Hobie gifted you as you awaited his arrival.

Eight pm. Hobie still hadn’t shown up.

You shot him a quick text, asking where he was. No reply. Surely everything was okay. He was Hobie Brown, he knew how to take care of himself. With little worry in your mind, you focused on starting dinner, hoping Hobie wouldn’t mind.

Nine pm. No sign of Hobie.

You finished making food, setting a plate aside in the microwave as you ate your portion in silence. The music accompanied you, but not like Hobie does.

Ten pm. Hobie Brown was nowhere around.

You could only sigh in frustration, upset he flaked, again. No call this time either. You had sent close to six texts within those three hours, none of which were responded to. You were upset, that much was certain.

A knock on your door startled you. You rush over, opening it quickly.

Hobie stood on the other side, clutching his arm with his hand covered in blood. Some cuts and bruises littered his face.

“Hobes, oh my- get in here.” You say in worry, bringing him in and guiding him to your couch. “Sit.. hold on please just.. crap..”

You rush to grab some medical supplies, lying them down in front of him. You take a towel, soak in some hydrogen peroxide, raising it to his arm. Your hand shakes as you make contact with Hobie’s skin, but his hand stops you.

“Aye, look here..” He says quietly, looking down at you. “You’re shakin’. Deep breaths, ‘right? ‘m totally fine.”

“But you aren’t! You blow me off then show up three hours later all beaten up! You can’t do that Hobie!”

He’s silent as you shakily clean him up. He could tell you were upset, and he felt guilty for being the cause. This was yet another instance out of his control, but Hobie didn’t feel it was right to excuse himself while you were so nervous.

You finish cleaning and bandaging before sighing. “I’m sorry I just.. you scared me, Hobes.”

“I know, sweetheart..” He responds, pulling you into a tight hug. “Won’ happen again. Promise.”

Funny enough, that’s what he said the first time.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The third, fourth, and fifth times Hobie Brown flaked were enough to make you pissed.

He continued to promise he couldn’t flake again. He said he wouldn’t get hurt and that he would show up. That he wouldn’t be late.

Lies.

You sat on the rooftop of your apartment building, legs dangling over the edge. You knew Hobie would come. You said it was urgent. That you had to talk.

“Careful. Don’t needya fallin’ down.”

You chuckle at the familiar voice. Hobie comes to sit next to you, noticing the somber expression you’re wearing.

He sighed, looking over the building. “Everythin’ alright?”

“As much as I want to say yes, no.” You respond, not daring to look at Hobie’s expression.

There was a heavy silence that hung between you two for a little while. He knew what this was about, but he had no intention of telling you the answer.

—

Hobie let out a small breath, sending the anomaly back to HQ. This one put up a fight, that was certain. And that universe’s Spider-man? Well he was dealing with another villain not too far from there.

He decided to swing over in case anything went wrong, settling for observing for now. But something about the enemy did catch his ear.

He kept talking about how he was going to make Spider-man pay, they were sworn enemies, blah blah the same spiel like always. But this one was saying.. more than that.

‘You’re gonna pay for keeping [Name] from me!’

‘How do you even know ‘em?’

‘Oh Spider-man, I know all. Just like how I know you revealed your identity to them. Wrong move, Spider-man. Or should I say, Hobie Brown?’

Of course Hobie knew this wasn’t his universe, but hearing it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. He watched as the fight raged on, even seeing this universe’s you suspended on the top of a clock tower.

He watched the moment go on. Watched as this Hobie Brown stopped the enemy, fixed any falling pieces, then went to save his you. But he didn’t make it. The clock tower piece snapped from damage, releasing the hold it had on his you.

Hobie couldn’t watch anymore. He swung away from the scene, far as possible, before taking off his mask with a heavy sigh.

He was debating with himself for so long. He owed it to you to tell you about his identity. He knew that. But after seeing that.. he wasn’t too sure he truly could.

His heart was heavy as he pulled out his phone, seeing a dozen texts from you asking where he was. Hobie felt so guilty, keeping this secret.

But he had a duty to protect you, even if that means hiding it.

—

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, drawing your knees to your chest. “You continue to flake on our dates and hang-outs. Your bandmates have said you don’t come to rehearsals. And you randomly show up hurt or worse. I can’t understand what’s happening.”

Hobie sighed. “I know. Haven’ been very present. ‘m sorry.”

You shake your head. “I’m not looking for an apology.” You say, glancing at him. “I’m looking for an explanation.”

“Well..”

Hobie stops his words, unable to continue. It’s like he’s back in that moment when he witnessed your death. Well.. other universe you. But it still stung the same. Would that be the consequence if he told you who he really was?

He knows Spider-man can’t save everyone. So what does he do?

“Can’t tell ya..” Hobie finally says, looking out onto the city. It was always so beautiful at night. “‘s for your safety.”

“My safety? Hobie you can’t be serious.” You say, a sad expression crossing your face.

He shakes his head in turn. “I just.. need time. I gotta make sure ‘s safe to tell ya.”

You’re silent as his words, unsure of what to do. You trusted Hobie, you truly did. But this was hurting the both of you. That much was obvious.

“Okay..”

You lean your body on Hobie’s arm, taking a deep breath of air. “Take as long as you need. Just.. promise you’ll stay safe. Please.”

Hobie wraps an arm around your shivering body, planting a kiss on your head as he combs through your hair. He’s grateful, oh so grateful, that you understand. This wasn’t easy, he knew that of course. But you were the best person who possibly could understand, even when so in the dark.

“Promise..”

His voice carried into the wind of the night, sealing the words between the two lovers.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

“you can call me on my phone i’ll run to you, you won’t ever have to Sleep Alone”

“but if you want it you can have it, you can have me in full”

synopsis// the lines between platonic and romantic become even more blurred for you, if possible, when you realize your best friend truly would do anything for you.

pairing// maki zenin x gn!reader

word count// 1.8k

contents// ages arent specified but everyone is adults, angst if you squint maybe, ooc maki/soft maki, hurt/comfort?, mentions of nightmares

notes// YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER WATERPARKS SONG LMFAOOOO. i cannot be stopped but cmon its sleep alone!! sleep alone supremacy!! my fav!!! also also this was supposed to be wayyyy more light hearted n then it suddenly got kinda deep for a moment idk how that happened... anyways do ppl even read maki ff?

Nightmares were nothing new to you; you had them quite frequently, if not all the time, and your best friend had repeatedly told you to call her when they occurred, and she would be more than willing to come and comfort you. But how could you do that? You couldn't for two reasons.

The first being that your best friend was Maki, and she wasn't much of a touch person (or really a people person in general), which is all you wanted in those moments: to be held. and two, that your best friend was Maki. the girl you are quite literally in love with. Is it silly to be in love with the oh-so independent girl who demands to do things herself? Yes, very much so, and you know that considering you’re the exact opposite. Neither of which is a bad thing; it just makes things difficult— well it would if you two were dating, you think. 

Tonight was just like any other night: you got yourself comfy in bed, scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before texting a sweet little goodnight to Maki, who quickly replied back, wishing you sweet dreams; it was just like any other night, nightmares included. which is why you woke up in a cold sweat, practically panting; the only thing illuminating your room was the moon.

Once you had slightly calmed down, you sat up and grabbed your phone. You flinched away from the bright screen until your eyes could adjust, finally seeing that it was around two a.m. You sighed as you unlocked your phone and called Maki. You constantly refused her offer of coming over at times like this, but you always accepted her offer of calling; you’d take what you could get— which could be quite literally everything you want, but alas, you’re not aware of that yet.

Maki hums over the line. “Hey, you ok?”

You hum back. “nightmare.”

Maki clears her throat. “I’ll call you back in, like, ten minutes, maybe, ok?”

You go wide-eyed at her statement, and you can feel your heart drop a bit. Were you bothering her? “I'm sorry, are you busy?”

“Yeah, something like that, but i promise we’ll talk ok?" Maki says goodbye almost too eagerly before hanging up. 

You sigh and practically throw your phone back onto your side table as you flop back down in bed. You knew this day would come, where she’d get annoyed with how you called almost every night, with how you weren’t as self-sufficient as she was, and besides, what could she be doing at two in the morning? You don't know how long you lay there staring at your ceiling, feeling like you wanted the world to swallow you whole, but you know it's been awhile. You probably would have stayed like that until morning if it hadn't been for the knock on your front door bringing you back to your senses.

Your feet dragged as you begrudgingly made your way toward the door, opening it only to see Maki there with a slight tired smile on her face as she held a bag full of things you couldn't quite make out in one hand. Standing there in your pjs, you suddenly felt very vulnerable; yes, she's your best friend, but you didn't want her to see you like this, see you as a person? It would complicate things, complicate your feelings even further. Your face feels hot and blue as the two of you stand there in silence for a few moments. 

“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks flatly with a slight tilt of her head. 

You don't say anything; you just move out of the way and let her in, and she walks toward your room as if she'd been here before, which she hasn't.

“Maki, what are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief as she sits on your bed. 

“Well, I had a feeling you’d call, and I don't know; I thought it would be better for you if I was actually here, right?” She speaks so softly to you, which isn't much of a surprise; Maki was softer in general with you than she was with other people, and it always leaves you with butterflies, it always leaves you with a hope you know you shouldn’t entertain for your own sanity. 

“You could’ve told me,” you huff as you sit next to her on the bed. 

Maki laughs slightly. “Why, so you can tell me not to come? Yeah, right," she says jokingly.

You hum in agreement; she’s right; you'd never willingly let her come. “So what’s in the bag?”

Maki looks at the bag in her hand briefly before placing it on your side table. “Just some snacks; I wasn’t really sure what we’d do when I got here…”

You hum sleepily; you weren’t sleepy a few seconds ago, so why now? Why does just being around Maki soothe you like a lullaby? 

“Or we can lay down,“ she adds when she realizes how droopy your eyes are getting now. 

You don't try to protest her suggestions; you're too tired at this point, and your sole wish is just to lay down with her. You nod and get up to turn off the light you had turned on earlier when you heard the door. While you're up, Maki gets herself comfortable on the far side of the bed, and you quickly join her. The two of you lay there stiffly on your backs, and although you were sleepy and happy in her presence, it's not enough; you need to feel her, be held by her. 

“Maki?” you question meekly. 

“Yeah?” she hums.

“You can totally say no, but, um, do you think you could hold me?” You ask nervously as you fidget with your hands. 

Maki turns her head to look at you and doesn’t say anything; she just smiles sweetly at you while she lifts her arm, which you can see from your peripheral vision; she’s giving you access to lay on her. You look at her wide-eyed briefly before practically scrambling to get your head on her chest, your arm draping over her torso as she brings hers back down to rest on your back. You two lay still for a few moments before she starts to rub her hand up and down your back soothingly, an action she never thought would come naturally to her, yet here she is, and she has to say it might be the best feeling in the world—even better than proving her “family” wrong. 

"Y/N, how come you’ve never let me come over before?” She asks out of the blue, fingers still trailing up and down your back, which, along with the question, sends shivers down your spine that you hope she can’t feel. 

“I don’t know. I guess I’m embarrassed?” You murmur against her. 

“Embarrassed?” she asks, clearly confused. 

You groan slightly. “Haven’t you ever noticed how different we are?” 

Maki tilts her head down slightly to look at you, eyes and eyebrows narrowing at you in confusion. “what?” 

“You’re so self-sufficient, so independent, and I’m what? can’t go a night without a nightmare? need you there for me every night?” You respond back almost bitterly, disgusted by your own needs. 

maki scoffs. "Y/N, you might be more “independent” than I am.” 

“what? "How—I mean, look, you're here because of me!” you exclaim. 

“Did you ask me to be here?” she asks. 

you frown. “well no but-“ 

She cuts you off. “Have you ever asked me to be here?” 

“no…” you reply quietly, unaware of where she’s going with this. 

“exactly! You deal with all your shit by yourself, even when I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m more than willing to be here for you. maybe you aren’t independent because you want to be, but you’re still independent,” she states matter-of-factly. 

“Isn’t being independent a good thing?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking slightly.

She shrugs slightly, as much as she can with you on top of her. “To an extent, but you can be independent and still let me be here for you; they aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You nuzzle your face into her and sigh. This is nice—nicer than you could’ve ever expected. Cuddling with Maki while she rubs her hand up and down your spine, comforting you in more ways than one, is something you could only dream about, but your dreams don’t even come close to this; the real thing is so much better. and suddenly you're clutching her shirt as words fly out of your mouth faster than you can keep up.

“Maki, I like you,” you murmur against her considering your face is practically shoved into her, almost like you're trying to become one with her, which to be honest, you kinda are.

She stifles a laugh. “i know.” 

You shake your head and reiterate, “No, I like you.” 

She hums and repeats, “I know.”

You blink a few times before you abruptly lift your head to look at her. “wait what?” 

She nods and smiles at you. “Oh yeah, I’ve known for a long time.” 

“How?” you exclaim. 

“You’re very obvious,” she replies nonchalantly. 

“And- And you’re okay with it?” You ask nervously, this was not how you were expecting your night to go at all. You were expecting to just call Maki for a little bit until you inevitably felt like you were bothering her and hung up, but not before she tells you she’s more than willing to go over, but you say no, and then you’d stare out your window until you eventually fell back asleep and maybe or maybe not get woken back up from another nightmare. That’s how you were expecting this night to go.

“Of course I’m okay with it; I like you too, moron,” she replies back playfully. 

You try to stop your mouth from dropping open, but to no avail; you’re absolutely shocked. You would have never guessed that she liked you back—okay, maybe you could considering how soft she was with you compared to everyone else, but that’s just how best friends are, right? Oh my god, are you seriously trying to convince yourself that she still sees you as just a friend when she just confessed otherwise? you’re insane.

Sometime while you were lost in thought, staring at Maki with your jaw dropped, she brought her free hand that wasn’t caressing your back up and shut your jaw for you, her hand on your face quickly bringing you back to earth.

You clear your throat and blink a few times before stumbling over your words, “So, uh, um, what now?” 

She hums and pretends to think for a moment. 

“Well, I think now you won’t ever have to sleep alone.” 

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“If you tell anyone about me cuddling you, I’ll kill you, by the way,” she adds on not even a few moments later. 

You giggle before littering kisses on her face, speaking through the kisses, “Yeah, I know.” 

© LITTLEXBIMBO

[riahlynn101]

could you keep doing fluffy schmelly fanfics?? i’m in in love with those 🥹

Of course :D!! I'm thinking of making these a series.

Have these two goofballs being overly competitive!

--

Vanessa beats Mike to the pizzeria. Not by much, as he pulls in right after her, but Vanessa takes her victories where she can. She pretends not to notice how his face seemingly lights up when they both get out of their respective cars. 

“Slow night?” He asks, sounding exhausted as always. She stands next to him, watching as he struggles to unlock the front door. 

“Not slow enough.”

They make their way into the lobby. The animatronics are still on stage, which makes sense given that it’s only ten. 

“So, you’re here early,” she says, taking off her jacket. The inside, for once, isn’t freezing cold. Maybe the owner finally realized that there’s actual people inside? 

“The babysitter got to my house earlier than expected,” Mike explains, starting his routine check of making sure everything is still in place. He peeks through the curtains, using a flashlight to check on each of the animatronics. “And Abby was already in bed.”

“....And you didn’t want to hang out any longer than you had to.” It’s not a question, but Mike answers anyway. 

“No, if I have to sit through one more minute of Max scrutinizing every little thing about how I parent Abby, I’ll scream. More and more, she reminds me of my Aunt Jane.” 

“What’s wrong with your Aunt Jane?”

Mike finishes up looking behind the curtain, and gives her an annoyed look. 

“Come on, she can’t be that bad. Right?”

“She’s actively trying to get Abby taken away from me. That woman has had it out for me since I was a kid.”

Vanessa hums. “Well, at least she isn’t here.”

“Small mercies,” Mike says in a monotone voice.

“Exactly.”

He groans, sweeping his flashlight across the various arcade machines. 

Vanessa shrugs. She looks over all the different games. “I used to love playing these games,” she murmurs. “I had the highest score on a majority of the cabinets.”

“Really?” Mike asks, sounding genuinely impressed. “Which one did you have the highest score on?”

“Pac-Man.”

“Pac-Man?”

“Pac-Man,” Vanessa repeats. “What about it?”

“I just….that happens to be a game I also got the highest score on. Not here, obviously, but I think it’s kind of cool that we….” Mike trails off, returning to his nightly task of making sure nothing’s broken. 

“Heh, bet my score was higher.”

“Was not,” Mike shoots back. Realizing how childish he must sound, Mike composes himself. “I guess we’ll never know.”

They both look longingly at the arcade cabinet. It’s powered off and covered in a layer of dust, likely due to not being used for years on end. 

They exchange a glance at one another. 

“I’m going to turn the power on for the arcade!” Mike shouts, sprinting towards the office. 

In the same breath, Vanessa shouts back, “I’ll start cleaning the machine off!”

-x-x-x-

“Wow,” Mike says, watching Vanessa play over her shoulder. “You are pretty good.”

She scoffs playfully. “Just pretty good?”

“Eh…goodish,” he teases. To which Vanessa takes her hand off the joystick to smack his shoulder. 

Her attention wavers for just a second, but in that second, Pac-man dies. “Noooo,” she groans. “Thanks a lot.”

Vanessa sees him smirk out of her peripheral vision. This only fuels her insistent need for competition. The last time she felt this strongly about beating someone was before her brother died. 

She grits her teeth and focuses even more on the game. 

“....You know-”

“Shut up,” Vanessa mutters, refusing to allow anyone to distract her. 

“But-”

“No.”

“But I-”

“Shush.” She waves a dismissive hand in his direction. 

“Hmpf.” Mike crosses his arms, looking almost like a petulant child. If she weren’t so set on getting the best high score, Vanessa would laugh. 

Eventually, though, she makes a mistake, and she has to move aside to let Mike play. Although, seeing her score (albeit briefly) makes the ten minutes of constant stress well worth it. Vanessa doesn’t want to think less of Mike, but there’s no way he can beat her score. 

“Soooo,” she starts, in the same conversational tone that Mike did, “you come here often?”

Instead of shushing her, Mike just side-eyes her. “Unfortunately. You?”

“Same,” Vanessa sighs, dramatically.

Mike snorts. “Well, you don’t have to. You know that right? Unlike me, you don’t get paid for being here.”

Vanessa gives an even more dramatic sigh, whirling around so she’s facing towards the lobby. “I can leave if you want.”

“What?” Mike asks, sounding actually terrified at the prospect of her leaving. “Wait, Vanessa, I didn’t mean-”

The arcade game goes into a game over screen. 

Vanessa grins, turning back to face Mike. “Ha!”

He rolls his eyes, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face. “Whatever. It was bound to happen anyway.”

“Uh, huh, sure.”

They glance over their scores, taking the time to appreciate them. Vanessa’s last score from over a decade ago is nowhere near their scores from today. 

Mike stares at the screen in disbelief. “We-” 

“Tied,” she finishes. 

“How?”

Which is a very good question, and one that Vanessa can not possibly answer. By all accounts they should not have tied. And not because she’s a sore loser or anything, but because Vanessa’s fairly certain they were both on different levels when they lost. Not that there’s any way to prove that.

“We need to break the tie,” Mike says, a finality in his tone. 

She nods. 

They look around the arcade. There’s five or six different arcade cabinets, a few (probably rigged) claw machines, and….

They look at each other. 

“Skee ball,” they say in unison.

-x-x-x-

In the corner, unseen, two boys watch over their respective, overly-competitive siblings. 

“She’s always been like this,” Cassidy mutters. “Used to sock me in the arm when she lost.” He rubs his arm. “Hurt like a-”

“Mikey has always been competitive too. Though, he didn’t hit me when he lost.” Garrett watches the display with interest. “I’m just glad he’s having fun. I haven’t seen him smile since…”

“Her either. It’s…kind of nice. I’ve missed seeing her smile.”

Watching is the best they can do (well, that and occasionally messing with the arcade machines), but for now, that’s all they have to do. For once, their siblings aren’t in pain or danger. 

And for now….

….that is more than they can hope for.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Chipper and Romi, A Love Story (and page update w/ Springin’ Chip)

Heya Tumblr folks, its page mascot Springin’ Chip here, and its autumn! And I’m in loooooove. Met a young woman. Her name is Romi. Young love is painful, folks. It’s supposed to teach you lessons that’ll help you adjust as an adult. And let me tell ya, there’s lots of pain in this relationship! So far, Romi and I enjoy playfully fighting in the park, late-night sleepovers, and deep talks about our future and the nature of the universe. It’s good to find something positive in 2024! I hope you had little specs of happiness this year as well. ANYWAYS, onto the brief page update.

So, folks, we’re going to be taking election week entirely off, maybe two weeks. When we get back, we’ll have three more songs to post and a few more paintings/drawings in 24’. Why take election week off you ask?? Well, primarily because partisan politics completely ruined Tumblr this year. It literally sucked all the fun out of everything and turned some usually normal people who we follow(ed) into shrieking, insufferable, irrational, pants-shitting dipshits. There’s nothing more useless than keyboard activism, and when we log in to Tumblr, we’re mostly looking for something that helps us mentally escape the harsh reality we’re living in. I mean, folks, as a dog, I really couldn't care less how you vote. What you do in the voting booth, just like in your bed, is none of my damn business. I followed your blog because I think you create exceptional art, or take excellent pictures, or generate excellent poetry, or make quality sounds, or because you have some hidden X factor, or because I think you’re a goddamned bona fide genius. I do NOT come to Tumblr for politics for several reasons, but mostly because… no one on here is a political expert and I’d rather not know how you vote at all. I’d rather you keep me guessing at how you vote and keep that to yourself. If for no other reason, because your politics matter to you, and I appreciate a bit of mystique.

Th3-0 wants me to tell you he early voted in North Carolina today. He said it was easy; he showed up early, he’d done his research beforehand, so he knew how he wanted to vote, it took like ten minutes. It was like, zip-zip-zip. The people at the voting site were friendly, the ballot process was streamlined. You don’t need to know how th3-0bjectivist votes. All you need to do is stop telling others how to vote and go out and vote. If you’re with friends or family that haven’t voted, tell them, “Okay c’mon! We’re all gonna go vote now!” Stop whining, stop whinging, and just go and vote folks. These last six months have been exhausting and demoralizing for the entire US. And if your side loses, learn how to lose with grace. Don’t let them see you sweat and think to yourself; what did my side do wrong to lose this election!?

Depending on the seismic reaction after the election, it could be up to two weeks until this blog is back up folks. Just please, grip fast to your mental health, hold your nose, and treat each other with respect. This year has been crazy enough. There’s no need to get crazier. th3-0bjectivist’s blog will be back for about two months and then after that we’re gonna take a LONGASS break from this platform to recover from the wretched, traumatizing, ass-ramming partisan shitstorm that was 24’.

Alt-links below in case you miss th3-0.

Stop bitchin' and just vote, Springin’ Chip

*****

The 0bjectivist on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2sONH8IwzL_2sZie0ZNSnw/

I’m also on BitChute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/uvKfJpNkzkIL/

FULL ART GALLERY on Instagram at: https://www.instagram.com/th3_0bjectivist_gallery/ <—- This just in, Instagram is for selfie-takers and living-my-best lifers! Delete your account early, just like early voting! We deleted our account this year, and we don't miss it!

FULL ART GALLERY on DeviantArt at: https://www.deviantart.com/th3-0bjectivist/gallery

[natimiles]

All of Me (Arthur x Isaac)

Summary: Arthur decides he and Isaac need a break after not leaving their own bedrooms for a while because of work.

Words: 2158

Tags: tooth-rotten fluffy; romance; established relationship; lots of kissing; romantic Arthur is so romantic it hurts.

Notes: I got the meaning of red tulips from this site.

Moodboard: Arthur&Isaac | Picnic Date

Isaac doesn’t even have to look up to know who barged into the bedroom. There is only one person who is brazen enough to not care about knocking before entering his room.

He senses Arthur walking up to him, standing behind his chair and peering down at his work. He feels a finger lightly running up and down his ear, caressing the adornment at the top of it, sending goosebumps down his body. He tries to keep his composure, but when he feels a light kiss and the tip of Arthur’s tongue tracing the piercing, he shivers and tries to hide his ear, looking sideways at the culprit, who is chuckling very close to his face.

“Hi, luv,” Arthur smiles and gives him a peck on the lips, flustering him even more. “Finally looked away from this work of yours!”

“Hi,” Isaac huffs, but his blushing cheeks give away that he isn’t mad. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” he straightens up, one hand on his hip and the other hidden behind his back. “To take you outside and enjoy the sun. I think we both need to leave our rooms for a bit.”

The physicist turns around to get a better look at his boyfriend. Arthur has dark circles under his eyes, and their beautiful sapphire color isn’t as bright as usual. His hair is disheveled in the way it gets when he is nervously running his hands through it, his shoulders are slumped, and he looks pale. He is undoubtedly exhausted.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Isaac asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Arthur chuckles. “Did you?” 

And Isaac knows he isn’t much better if the concerned look stamped on Arthur’s face is any indication.

“Mmm…” He slowly gets up and stretches his arms, only then realizing how long he’s been sitting there and how tired he really is. “What are you hiding there anyway?” Isaac notices that Arthur still has one of his hands behind his back.

“This, my lovely Newt, is for you.” He takes a step closer to Isaac and presents him with a bouquet of red tulips. “So, will you give me the honor of going out on a date with me?”

Isaac blushes, and Arthur giggles at the sight. Bringing his hand to his boyfriend’s cheek, he traces the redness with his fingertips until he reaches the hair covering almost half of Isaac’s face, tucking it behind his ear. The physicist looks down at the bouquet to hide his blush, taking it into his hands. It’s ridiculous how Arthur makes him feel, even after dating for some time.

“Assuming I agree,” he clears his throat, trying to keep his shyness in check. “Where are we going?”

“Mmm, that’s a surprise,” he says mischievously, winking. “A good one, I promise!” he adds when he sees the grimace on Isaac’s face.

“Fine,” he sighs, agreeing.

“Great!” Arthur flashes him a bright smile and pecks his lips. “I’ll meet you in the foyer in ten minutes, is that okay?”

“It is. I’ll just freshen up. Maybe eat a snack before leaving.” Isaac looks at the clock on his desk to check if it’s already time for his elevensies.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be eating out. And if you get too hungry, you can always bite me,” Arthur says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Isaac rolls his eyes.

As agreed, they meet in the foyer. Arthur is carrying a basket, and Isaac cocks an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. The writer only smiles and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers while leading him outside the mansion.

“Are we walking there?” Isaac asks when he realizes they’re not heading in the direction to get a carriage.

“Yes. Don’t worry, it’s not far. We won’t get more tired than we already are.”

Isaac hums and looks around. “You’re really not telling me where we’re going, right?” He tries again, curiosity speaking louder when he notices they’re not heading town. He doesn’t remember ever walking this way before. Arthur glances at him with a smile, and he knows he won’t get any answers. “Fine, I’ll just follow you blindly.”

“Oh…” The writer’s smile widens.

“I won’t put a blindfold on to walk there,” he says matter-of-factly, already anticipating where the other’s mind would drift.

“Will you put it on when we’re back home then?” He grins slyly, and Isaac deadpans at him, his cheeks turning red. “It doesn’t hurt to ask, huh?”

“I guess I should’ve seen this one coming,” the physicist sighs, rolling his eyes, though his lips curve into a tiny smile the next second.

“Well, we won’t have to use the blindfold now anyway.” Arthur slows to a stop and lifts their laced hands to point at his boyfriend’s other side. “We’ve arrived!”

Isaac looks at the intertwined hands in the air and then turns in the direction they are pointing.

“Oh…” It’s the only sound he lets out. He smiles softly at the field of colorful flowers ahead. The sun shines down, making their colors even brighter. The wind blows, messing with their hair and spreading the gentle fragrance of the flowers. The nearby trees create the perfect spot for them to sit down and enjoy.

“Nice, huh?” Arthur steps beside him, taking a good look at his features, and showing a matching smile when he sees Isaac likes the place. “Come on, let’s settle down.”

Arthur guides them through the flower field to a spot near a tree, where they can enjoy the sun but also have a nice area to rest. He swiftly retrieves a blanket from inside the basket and lays it out on the grass with Isaac’s help. Gesturing for Isaac to sit down, Arthur places the basket in one of the corners to hold the blanket in place and settles between the basket and his boyfriend.

He is really proud of his accomplishment — he set up his first picnic all by himself. Well, he asked for some tips from Sebastian, but he put them into practice on his own. He made the sandwiches, brewed coffee, fetched some blanc and rouge, and, of course, got some apples.

Isaac stares silently while Arthur takes everything out of the basket. He frowns when he sees the apples, even though he knows they’re not meant to tease him — not anymore, since Arthur actually grew to like the fruit after teasing Isaac for so long. He can’t help but notice how happy and proud his boyfriend looks right now, and he wonders…

“Did you make all this?” He voices his thoughts.

“I did. Sebas gave me some tips, but I did it. Not the cake though,” he points at a little strawberry cake in the middle of all the displayed food. “I will admit I bought it, but only because I didn’t think now was a good time to test my baking skills. I was short on time because I decided to do this after breakfast and didn’t want to end up ruining everything. I would gladly try next time though.”

Isaac blinks once, twice. He is suddenly hit by the notion that Arthur planned and executed their entire date in just a few hours, probably after noticing that he hadn’t left the room for breakfast again that morning. His mind drifts back to Arthur barging into the bedroom and the bouquet he brought, and he feels his face heating up. He doesn’t know what red tulips mean, but he bets they symbolize something; Arthur always gives him things that mean something.

He doesn’t even notice he’s been staring at Arthur for so long until he hears a chuckle. Suddenly, blue eyes are watching him from very close, and he feels a light kiss on his lips.

“Why lose yourself in thoughts about me when I’m right here, darling?”

Isaac frowns and averts his gaze. He reaches for a sandwich, fiddling with the wrapping in his hands for a minute. He glances back at Arthur and watches the writer pour coffee for himself. Arthur has always been an excellent observer, and he became even better at it after they got together. The physicist considers pretending he doesn’t know what Arthur is talking about, but it wouldn’t work — it never does. If anything, every time he tried it, his too-cunning boyfriend saw right through him and made him ten times more flustered and embarrassed.

“Arthur,” he calls, his voice soft and low, but his boyfriend hears just fine and turns to him, giving his full attention. “I was thinking about... the, um, flowers.”

“You want to know what red tulips mean?” Arthur asks, watching for every little reaction from the other man. Isaac lets out a low sigh and nods once, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, the kind that emerges when he wants to know more about something. “Mmm, I wonder,” he feigns ignorance.

Isaac swats his arm with the back of his hand, an adorable pout on his face. “I know you know! You wouldn’t give it to me if it didn’t.”

“Someone’s been paying attention to my meaningful gifts,” he smirks.

“Ugh, never mind.” The physicist turns back to look at the flower field ahead, opening the wrapper of his sandwich to eat in silence.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Arthur places a finger on his chin and turns his face back to him, looking intently into his eyes. “I’ll tell you,” he whispers.

He extends his hand and waits for his boyfriend to take it. Isaac raises an eyebrow but concedes, putting down his sandwich to grasp it. Arthur gently squeezes the hand and brings it to his face, planting light kisses on the knuckles, his gaze never leaving Isaac’s flustered expression.

“What are you—”

Arthur silences him with a shush. He opens the hand he’s holding and places it on his chest, securing it in place with his own hand. “Just feel it,” he says in a low voice, his expression serious. Isaac nods, and they fall into silence. It takes only a few seconds for him to grasp Arthur’s intentions.

He feels the heartbeat going crazy under the palm of his hand.

He blinks, and Arthur flashes him a loving smile. Isaac doesn’t have time to say anything, not that he would know what to say in the first place, and he feels soft lips against his own. Arthur is still holding their hands against his chest, but he brings the other one to Isaac’s neck to deepen the kiss. Isaac complies, and it feels like his whole world has shifted.

Arthur has been nothing but a charmer and a good boyfriend, and Isaac feels flustered and shy almost on a daily basis, but he also feels loved and cared for like never before. However, it’s a whole different feeling being able to feel how fast his boyfriend’s heart is beating now, to know he could elicit the same reactions from Arthur. He didn’t realize until now that he could feel even more loved than he has since they started dating.

“It beats like this only for you,” the writer breaks the kiss to speak in a low voice, his lips still close and brushing against his boyfriend’s.

He chuckles when he hears Isaac’s breath hitching and sees his whole face reddening; such an endearing sight. He lets go of Isaac’s hand to cradle his face, brushing his thumb against his red cheeks in a loving, gentle caress. Isaac doesn’t let his hand fall, quite the opposite. He fists Arthur’s shirt and pulls his body closer, laying back on the blanket. Isaac is better with actions than words, and they’re kissing again in the next second.

However, Arthur hasn’t finished saying what he wanted.

“I love you dearly.” He kisses the red, hot cheeks of his boyfriend, and proceeds to punctuate every sentence with a kiss. “You’re the only one I love.” A kiss on the forehead. “The only one I want.” A kiss on the tip of the nose. “For as long as you’ll have me.” A kiss on the corner of his lips. “That’s the meaning,” he concludes with a kiss on the lips, one that Isaac tries to deepen but Arthur pulls away to finish professing his feelings. “That’s what I promised you since we started dating months ago. True, deep, and undying love.”

“God, you are… so cheesy,” Isaac rasps, his voice barely audible.

Arthur knows his boyfriend well enough. He knows Isaac is overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to react when love is expressed so intensely. With a smile, he runs his hands through Isaac’s strawberry-brown hair, gently pushing it back and holding it there.

“And you still love me.”

“Yes,” he replies with a shy smile. “And I still love you.”

They eventually eat and drink everything Arthur prepared. It takes a while, as it requires them to finally let go of each other and keep their hands to themselves for a few minutes.

Masterlists

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 12 )

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear!

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

FINAL chapter: As the days draw on, Five becomes more desperate. Even his powers can't save you from a long, protracted death.

No smut below but proceed at your own risk anyway...because I said so, ok?!

Chapter 12: Deprivation

You drifted, consciousness misty and fleeting. You didn’t know where you were, you only knew pain. Your head throbbed like an infected tooth. It hurt to breathe.

You didn’t mean to open your eyes, but three figures came into sort-of focus. The seated man wore black, the indistinct shape of his face turned to you.

“Hey.” 

Five’s voice, gentle.

One of the other figures, huge and hulking, put a misty hand on Five’s shoulder.

“Is she-?”

The scene changed.

"We've been friends since middle school! You've known her for all of ten minutes!"

Ellie. Her hand in yours.

"And is that going to save her if she takes a turn?"

"What?"

"Five..." said an admonitory voice. One of his siblings.

"If she takes a turn,” he continued, “can you turn back time and save her?"

You could hear rain on a window.

Your hand was held by someone below the level of the bed. His thumb caressed your smallest finger. It was silent but for his quiet tenor.

“I can't stop wanting you…it's useless to say...”

You sank again.

Daytime or night time. Maybe neither. Maybe dreaming

“Well, are they keeping it under control?”

“The fuckers won’t let me get at her charts” he exhaled, angrily, “and all the time she's in pain.”

“Hey, Five, come on. It’s okay.”

“I hate this Viktor, I can’t-”

Day time? Bustle: Beeps, footsteps, ringing phones, snatches of christmas music. Hot pain in your abdomen.

“-Modafinil is ideal. Maybe Adderall. Hell, find me cocaine- any stimulant.”

“Buddy, I’m not sure…”

“Coffee’s fine for now but it won’t be enough.”

You sensed Five perching beside you. You opened your eyes a slit. Klaus sat in a chair with his feet up on your bed, rolling a cigarette.

“Hey you,” he smiled.

As Five called your name, disbelieving, the world heaved away again.

***

Now quiet again. His warmth against you. He was whisper-singing more Ray Charles, his mouth against your ear. He sang at a low tempo, voice frayed.

"I said I made up my mind, to live in memories..."

“-brought you some more clothes.”

“Thanks.”

“You need to shower, you smell like shit.”

“…No.”

His voice dragged like a sack of rocks along a stone floor.

“You need to stop this and sleep.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

He didn’t sound fine.

“Five-”

“I can only jump back a couple of minutes Diego.”

“How much are you taking?”

“It’s temporary.”

Quiet.

Five muttered and laughed to himself.

"I can't stop..."  

Barely singing now. Voice slurry, 

"Those h-happy hours...hours...happy hours...we once knew..."

Hot, moist breath on your cheek.

Beeps again.

“-on the mend. Come on man, you know it won’t be long now.”

“No. It’s nothing like a halo.”

“Huh?"

Five didn’t elaborate.

"Look, if I stay and promise to stay awake, will you sleep? I can wake you if she takes a turn.”

He didn’t respond, his silence more sinister than nonsense. You felt weight shift on your bed. 

“Five?”

“We’ll sort it right here and be happy. And you can be satisfied with that.”

“Five…" Klaus's usually carefree voice was laced with worry, "You’re talking to the chair buddy."

“I forgot to carry the one and that’s what people see, but it’s not the same.”

 He laughed deliriously, blurrily. 

“Okay old timer. Just put your head down here and-”

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom. Breathing was easier now, but it still came in wheezes. You could hear slow, deep breathing to your right. With effort, you turned your head to find the source.

“Five?” 

Your voice barely sounded, catching and squalling in your throat.

“Shhh,” a large hand on yours and a low, urgent whisper, “glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Luther’s face materialized out of the dark.

“Five?” you repeated.

"He’s here, right here. But please, let him sleep for now. He isn’t well.”

Sitting on a chair beside Luther, Five was slumped forwards, his head a few inches from your shoulder. His face was gaunt and unshaven, hair dirty, body unwashed. Even in repose, he looked worried, yet he slept like the dead.

“How long?” you managed.

“Since you’ve been here? Eight days. You’ve got broken ribs, a punctured lung and some head trauma. But you’ve had an infection too and that’s what had him really worried.”

“Better now?”

“Yeah. They say the antibiotics are working now. It’s a good sign you’re awake enough to talk.”

You indicated Five.

“Why?”

“He was awake for over four days. Since your infection got bad,” he paused, “it wasn’t pretty. Klaus finally got him to sleep this morning and he’s been like this ever since. We didn’t want to move him.”

“Be okay?”

“Yeah. It gave him a touch of psychosis, but it should have gone when he wakes up.”

Your eyes were heavy.

“Tired.”

“I’ll be here." said Luther.

As your eyes closed, he woke you again.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Huh?”

“When you wake up and he’s awake, will you pretend it’s the first time?”

“Okay.”

It was easy to fall back under the veil of exhaustion and pain, the sound of Five’s deep breathing lulling you.

When your eyes opened again, the light told you it was afternoon. Luther sat in the same position by your bed while Five sat with his head back against the window pane. He was leaning so that two of his chair legs were off the floor, looking up at the ceiling, scrutinizing it as if the pattern on the tiles might hold the answer to life, the universe and everything: as if they were the mad calculations on his bedroom walls.

“Five?”

He jumped violently, his chair tipping back onto all four legs. His shocked face broke into disbelief, into joy and then, like the sun going in, his face crumpled.

“Oh God.” 

He blinked to the side of the bed, unable to waste even the seconds it would take to walk. When he rematerialized he was wiping his eyes. 

Quietly, Luther excused himself, giving you privacy and closing the door behind him.

Five kissed, first your head, then your face, then each of your eyes and, finally, buried his face in your hair.

“You're awake! Oh God. I love you. I can’t, I'm sorry- it was my-”

He mouthed silently for a couple of seconds, words not coming. You lifted a heavy arm, placing it on his back and guiding him onto the bed.

Carefully, he lay beside you, as close to the edge of the bed as he could be without falling off, giving you space. With a shaky inward breath, he nuzzled into your cheek to hide his face. 

After a few minutes of pretending he wasn't crying, his tears subsided enough that he could trust himself to speak.

“I didn’t leave you.”

“I know.”

“It’s all my fault. I didn’t think, I didn’t plan well enough. He was after me and I led him straight to you. I’m an idiot, a fucking idiot.” 

Suddenly, violently, he slammed the heel of his hand into his cheekbone.

“Five, stop,"

You reached feebly for his wrist, but your arms felt too heavy.

“You didn’t ask for this to happen.”

“I put you at risk, I hurt you again.”

“You can’t control everything. You can’t live the rest of your life imagining every contingency. You can never be happy like that.”

He pushed his balled fist hard into one eye, as if he could push his tears back into the ducts.

“This time, I’m done with it. No more Commission, no more saving the world, no more anything.”

Somehow, you knew this was a promise to himself that he couldn’t fully keep. All that was who he was.

***

As night fell, Five settled on the low cot next to your bed. You reached your hand down towards his and he took it willingly. 

“Promise me you’ll sleep tonight?”

“I think I can promise you that.”

“Why didn’t you before?”

He paused uncomfortably.

“In case you needed me.”

For a little while, you just held hands.

“Five?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” 

Over the next week, you were visited by the entire Academy crowd. 

Five stayed protectively by your shoulder throughout these visits, though you weren’t sure why precisely. It was as if he thought they'd wear you out. The hypocrisy of this was stark: if anybody was worn out, it was him.

Despite his promise, In your first few days of consciousness, he slept only in tiny snatches and always startled awake with a frantic glance in your direction. Though he’d relaxed about this since you’d been able to leave the bed for a couple of hours each day, you knew he still wasn’t sleeping well.

A few days after Christmas, Lila brought Santi to visit. On arriving, she took one look at Five and grimaced but, likely out of pity, made no other comment. 

Santi was still nervous of you: only having briefly met you once before you were bedridden, injured and delicate. Though most of your bruises and facial swelling had now gone down, there was still enough evidence of them to make you appear scary to a six year old.

For most of the visit, he hid behind Lila, but you smiled at him when you caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. 

“So, Santi, what did you get for Christmas?” 

He mumbled into the back of Lila’s chair. 

“What was that, honey?” you asked. 

“Lego,” supplied Lila, “an absolute buttload of lego.”

“Cool!” you said, enthusiastically, “so what are you gonna build?”

Santi eyed you before beckoning his mother. Lila, rolling her eyes, bent so that he could whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she said, in reply, “I’m not your messenger, darling.”

Reluctantly, giving the bed a wide berth, Santi edged around the room until he was beside Five. 

“When are you coming home?” he asked, in a small voice.

“Soon, I hope.” said Five, glancing over at you, “The doctors think it won’t be long after New Year.”

“When’s that?” Santi asks.

“A week,” Five reassured him, “Maybe two. It depends.”

There was  a short pause as Santi computed this: first taking it in, mulling it over, and then finding it acceptable.

“Will you play with robots good?”

“Huh? Sure, we’ll play robots.”

“But will you play them good? Or will you still be all dumb?”

Lila snorted.

“Gee, thanks kid. I guess I’ll try not to be dumb, but what makes you think that?”

“Because…because…” he beckoned Five in much the same way he did Lila, and Five lowered his ear towards him.

You didn’t hear exactly what he whispered, but the words: ‘kissing’ and ‘girlfriend’ were clearly audible. 

Lila caught your eye, tried to suppress a laugh, but cackled anyway. You couldn’t help joining in.

Amused, Five answered him:

“Well, while I intend to be very busy kissing my girlfriend-” 

Santi flapped his hands, trying to stop Five from divulging his top secret communication.

“-I promise I’ll play robots better than ever when I get home.”

As you improved, Five tended to skulk outside in the hallway when Ellie visited. Clearly, they’d had disagreements while you were out of it. That day was no different: he greeted her politely, holding the door open for her, but nevertheless excused himself quickly, pleading that he needed to go out and get some decent coffee. 

After he left, it took a few minutes for conversation between you and Ellie to flow properly. 

“So, what do you think of him now?”

Ellie sucked at her cheek, flaxen hair coming down around her ears. 

"He clearly cares a lot about you,” she paused, before finishing in a rush, “but when you were really ill he seemed…I don’t know, possessive ?” 

"He was just worried,” you sigh, “he thought it was his fault."

"But why?"

You didn’t want to lie to her, but you wanted her to like him too.

"There were bad people after him. That guy. The one who…” 

She nodded her understanding, waving away any need for elaboration and allowing you to avoid talking about Micheal Monroe any more. You were grateful for this. Knowing he was dead wasn’t enough to take away your fear. 

“They're all...superheroes, I guess, and I got caught up in it. He feels responsible."

She pulled a concerned face, "I guess I understand that. He's just very…intense."

You squeezed her hand. You could understand this, and even agree to an extent.

"He is. But he's been through a lot, more than you or I could imagine. He's got his own shit to work out. But he's worth it. And he needs me.”

You paused, looking up from your clasped hands and into her eyes.

“And I think I need him too. I love him, El."

She nodded and squeezed your hand in return, the worry not quite leaving her eyes, even so. 

The physical therapists having apparently decided they’d tortured you enough, it was decided that you should be transferred to outpatient care in mid January. By this time, you were able to move around unaided (though not without pain) and the dressings were gone from your head, no longer necessary. 

Five could sense your nerves as the prospect of going home rose.

“Do you want me to move in for a while?” 

“No," your eyes prickled, voice panicky, "I don’t want to go back there. I can’t - not ever.”

Your blood was probably still spattered up the wall where Monroe had bashed your head, the dining chairs still left in the same position. You’d never forget the feel of that cheap carpet against your cheek as you lay on it, damp with blood. The smell of the dust trodden into it by years of previous tenants. 

Five’s hand on your cheek brought you back to the present. 

“Then you never have to." he soothed, kissing your trembling upper lip, "Come home with me. I can sleep on the floor at home until we can work out your next steps.”

You wondered afterwards why you didn't stay with Ellie again. The truth was, the idea of sleeping every night with him nearby, protecting you, was comforting in a way you wouldn't have been able to articulate. His attic was the only place you could imagine recovery. 

You didn’t need his help to climb the Academy steps on the evening of your return, but he didn’t feel comfortable without taking your arm. He led you through the entrance hall and into the living room, where Lila stood behind the bar.

“I think this calls for margaritas!”

With some misgivings about leaving you in such dubious company, Five nevertheless blinked upstairs to drop off your bags in his room. To his surprise, he found it already full. 

The unexpected entrance caused Luther to hit his head on the sloping ceiling, dropping the new bed he was maneuvering into position. Cursing softly, he put out a hand to still the swinging lampshade. Diego stopped in the act of moving the battered old slipper chair.

“Shit, you’re early!”

The room smelled of fresh paint, Sloane was unfolding bedsheets while Klaus and Viktor slid Five’s desk back against a newly-dried wall trimmed in blue-black. They had added a rug and another bookcase, already half full of books that had until now been leaning in a precarious stack. Five looked around, placing the bags on the floor.

“You need room for two,” Diego explained, in answer to Five’s dumbstruck look, placing the slipper chair in his new reading nook. “Plus I think you’re overdue to redecorate.”

Santi stood on the desk chair, dragged to the opposite wall. He was drawing on the upper portion of the wall with a marker; a lumpy, smiling figure with wiggly lines all around him.

“It’s all dry erase,” Luther, pointed out "Just in case. For doomsday math, y’know?”

“We moved the old toys to one of the empty rooms.” says Viktor, “Figured Santi needs a playroom and you need your space.”

“Yeah…” says Five, “you guys-”

Klaus cut him off, “And your other toys are in the bedside cabinet. I’ve seen things today that I can’t unsee.”

Five, torn between mortification and a strong emotion he couldn’t quite place, said nothing for the moment. He stared around. All their work. All their care. And there, on the new bookshelf, Anna Karenina . It was like Delores was there, giving him a little wave.

“Thank you,” he said, softly, “I'm truly touched.” 

It wasn’t much, but his face spoke volumes. He was home: safe and loved.

“You deserve it, old man” Diego said, thumping him genially on the shoulder.

Trying to throw off some of the emotional intensity, Five turned his attention to his nephew and the figure he was drawing on the new dry erase. 

“Is that me Santi?" he asked, taking in the squiggly lines around the figure, "Why do I smell?”

“Not smell. You’re blinking ”

“Oh, sure.”

“You do smell though. Smell of poop.”

Five picked him up, swung him round and kissed his head. Then, turning to the rest of his family:

“Really. This is…amazing.”

“Come on, bring it in!” said Klaus, sweeping everyone together, “I need a full group hug. That’s it. That’s the stuff.”

It was awkward, but nice. 

As they broke apart and headed downstairs together, Santi scampered ahead with Diego and Klaus steered Five to the back of the group.

“That playboy’s gotta be an antique...and where did you get that teeny pink buttplug? So petite!”

“Klaus, really?”

“And, I have to know, do you wear that pair of panties or is it a, you know, a sniffin’ thing?"

Five blinked downstairs.

“It’s okay if it’s both,” Klaus called over the banister.

Everyone except you had already drunk at least three of Lila’s deadly margaritas. After just one, you became nervous about mixing them with your pain meds.

The evening devolved into karaoke, a sure sign that things were getting messy. Five, in particularly high spirits and particularly drunk, was singing the worst tribute to Celine Dion you’d ever heard before or since. He was trying to sing much higher than he was at all capable of. Lila and Viktor sat either side of you, all three of you cringing at every horribly off- key note.

Luther, Sloane and Klaus swayed together, laughing and wincing as Five missed notes screechily. Diego hadn’t descended the stairs after putting Santi to bed, likely passed out on his and Lila’s bed after far too many drinks.

“CAUSE I AM YOUR LADY-”

“Y’know, " said Viktor, watching Five affectionately,  “I don't think I've seen him this happy since we were kids.”

“-AND YOU ARE MY MAAAN-”

“God, maybe it would have been easier on us all if you had died!” Lila whined, covering her ears with two throw pillows as Viktor smiled in your direction

 “I’ve noticed he likes to sing worse the happier he’s feeling.” 

You laughed, “I hope that’s true, because that means he’s very happy.”

“WHENEVER YOU REACH FOR ME-”

“He’s never known how to love halfway.” Viktor continued,  “He dedicated his entire life to getting back to us. Never stopped, never gave up-”

“-I’LL DO ALL THAT I CAAAN”

“-and now he loves you like that, he’ll never stop that either.”

You took Viktor’s hand and listened to Five finish.

“-SOMETIMES I AM FRIGHTENED BUT I’M READY TO LEARN THE POWER OF LOOOOOOVE”

With the end of the song still playing, Five threw down the microphone with a squall of feedback and bowed, leaving all three of you on the sofa grimacing intensely. Only Lila clapped.

Luther took up the mic as Five walked over to you, leading from the head with hands in his jacket pockets; his characteristic pose, only enhanced by the booze.

“I was amazing, wasn’t I?”

“I think I prefer your Ray Charles.”

His face lit up at these words.

"You remember that?"

You nodded, and  his drunken smile turned sentimental. He held out a hand to you, trying his best for suave, though ruining the effect slightly by swaying on his feet. 

“Dance with me?”

You squeezed his hand and he pulled you carefully to your feet and towards the edge of the room.

As Luther began to murder I Wanna Know What Love Is , Five pulled you close. You revolved on the spot and he lay his forehead against yours. His face, though happy, was careworn. For the first two verses, you just danced together, Five surprisingly graceful for someone with that much tequila in him.

“You know,” you whispered,  “you won’t always be able to keep me safe.”

“I can try,” he said, and then, “I’m a dangerous man to know.”

“And if that’s part of being in your life, then that’s the price I pay. It’s a good trade-off from where I’m standing.”

As the chorus swelled and the others sang along with Luther, Five raised his hands to cup your face,

“I can teach you to defend yourself. I could start training you as soon as you’re fully better.”

You chuckled.

“That sounds like it would be a huge turn-on for you."

He seemed to consider this, eyes narrowing slightly as he thought over the idea, assessed it, and found it true.

“That’s a coincidence of which I intend to take full advantage.”

“Good,” you smiled, “Then we’re on.”

With the others occupied, he leaned you against a pillar and gave you a lingering kiss, tenderness giving way to lust the longer he went. 

You broke away from him,

“Take me to bed, Five."

And he did.

End of Part 1

Tag list: (lmk if you want to join) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

PART 2 >> HERE

For a preview of things to come, check out the series masterpost Alternatively, join me on A03 where it's already posted.  Here is a link to the whole series

I would really appreciate any comments before you go: what did you enjoy, what could I have done better?

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 62 : Day Three ( Matt’s Afternoon part 2 )

Me, Matt asked in disbelief, what do you mean they want me ?

 This guy called me, she replied, and said I was about to receive some pictures. Then the pictures came and the guy called again. He said if I didn’t want those pictures used against the store, I needed to get you to come to work and then wait for another call. I’m sorry Matthew, she apologized again, I just didn’t know what else to do.

 Okay Diana, Matt reassured her with more confidence than he actually felt, it’s okay, we’ll just wait and see what it is they actually want then. Maybe they’re bluffing, surely they know I can identify them and get them in just as much trouble.

 True, Diana acknowledged, but I think it’s more personal. If these get out, she continued, in the wrong context we’d all never be able to show our faces in the whole mall ever again.

  That’s probably their angle, Matt agreed, we’ll just have to play along for now and see.

 As if on cue, Diana’s phone rang. Hello, she answered, yes, he’s here, she spoke into the phone, hold on. Here, she said to Matt, they want to speak to you.

 Matt took the phone from her, hello ? Yeah, I remember. They hung up, Matt said to Diana, handing the phone back to her.

 What did they say, she asked him, what do they want ?

 I have to meet them down where I met them last night, Matt answered, in ten minutes. Alone.

 No, Diana commanded, I am not letting you go alone. There’s no telling what they’ll do. What if they hurt you ?

 No, Matt instructed, they said alone, so that’s fine, I’ll go. I don’t think they have anything in mind other than some new way to humiliate me anyway, he reassured her, I don’t think they’d risk actually hurting me.

 Alright, Diana conceded, if you’re sure. I don’t like it though, maybe we should call somebody.

 No, Matt replied, continuing to portray way more confidence than he was actually feeling, we’ll do it their way. Who would we call anyway, he proceeded to ask, plus there’s no time. He said ten minutes so I should get going.

 Just be careful Matthew, Diana said to him as he left, I don’t want to lose a good worker.

 Matt turned and flashed her a smile as he left, giving her a thumbs up in complete contradiction to the fear he was experiencing. Despite the bravado he had displayed for Diana’s benefit, he was actually quite terrified at what could actually happen.

 Stupid, he scolded himself as he went, stupid, stupid, stupid Matt. What were you thinking, he continued to chastise himself, are you a complete idiot ? Do you have any idea what you’re walking into ? Are you insane ? Matt continued talking to himself and noticed he was drawing some strange looks from people as he passed them, oh great, and now everyone else thinks I’m crazy.

 As Matt approached the location he was supposed to meet the phone voice, which he had assumed was the leader of the mall gang from last night, he began looking for hiding spots. What Matt had left out of his conversation with Diana about this meeting was that the voice had not only instructed him to come alone to the spot where he had been tied up last night but to show up in the same attire that he had been tied up in. Nothing but underwear.

 Since he wasn’t about to walk through the entire mall wearing nothing but his underwear, Matt had decided that he could get as close to the spot as possible before stripping off. The problem he was realizing, however, was that there was not really any good hiding spots to stash the clothes he was going to have to take off.

 The only available option, he concluded, was to stash them under the garbage bag inside one of the trash cans along the way.  The closest one was in the hall two corners back, past at least five store employee entrances. Realizing he was about out of time, Matt decided he didn’t have much choice and took off at a sprint to get to that trashcan.

 As he rounded the last corner, Matt stopped in his tracks as he saw a group of three employees at the trash can smoking. Shit, he unintentionally exclaimed out loud and realized that the group of employees heard him.

 What, one of them asked, you got a problem pipsqueak ? It’s too far to get to the smoke section outside, you got a problem with that ?

 No, Matt answered, sorry. No problem at all, Matt continued to say as he turned back the way he had come giving the group a meager wave goodbye.

 Pausing as soon as he got around the corner Matt wondered to himself, now what am I going to do ? Realizing not only was his plan to stash his clothes shot to hell, he was also out of time. He had to get to the rendezvous spot, now. Shit, he said to himself once again as he ran back toward the meeting spot, stripping off clothes as he went hoping that they would still be there when he came back for them.

[saviolum-sanguineus]

I wish it was two weeks ago... She wants to say it, wants it more than anything she's ever wanted in this shining mayfly brightness of youth.

sometimes memories aren't enough. sometimes they're too much.

“When do you need to be home by?”

"What?"

The party around them is too loud and Joel doesn't want to yell, so he leans in and cups a hand around his mouth—Esme's hair smells like roses and the cherry lipgloss it swiped from her mouth when she was dancing earlier—to repeat, "When do you need to be home by?"

Someone bumps into her as they pass, jostling her forward into Joel's automatically protective surprise; his chest is warm and muffles her muttered "ow" when her nose smacks into him. Esme looks up, eyes watering slightly (or maybe it's just the lights through whatever the people in the room down the hall are smoking), and tips her head towards the relative quiet of the backyard. Joel nods and she smiles when she tugs him by the hand into the cool open air.

“Technically eleven, but they know I'm with you. I don’t know what they think would happen anyway, Aplesnay is tiny, I couldn’t get into trouble if I went looking for it.” Esme isn't drunk, but being around Joel makes her feel like she is, dizzy and floating on the feeling of his hand in hers, smile buoyant on her lips like the little boats they make out of leaves and send downstream together in the woods.

Joel looks a little sceptical but grins back when she swings their intertwined hands back and forth to the music they can still hear thumping outside the house. "It's almost ten, and I'm pretty sure your parents don't like me that much."

Esme pulls a frowny kind of face that melts rapidly into a teasing smile as she leans into Joel. “They like you, they just don't like that I dyed my hair after we got together—and anyway, I like you very, very much, so all that means is that we’ll have to leave now.”

Joel looks bewildered. “Now? You don’t live an hour away.”

“Yeah, but you took the motorcycle here, Jojo. You think I’d miss a chance to make the most of a ride with Ryder?”

It’s a stupid joke, but Joel laughs anyway and it leaves Esme giddy, smiling adoringly at him when he pushes the visor of her helmet securely in place. The choke purrs loud as her heart as they ride off, black night breeze whipping past the column of light carved out by Joel’s headlight. He’s always warning her to hold on tight—a little needlessly, but it’s those little things that keep Esme’s arms wrapped so tight around him, body pressed to his so closely that the contour of where they touch is a kiss. It feels like flying.

Two minutes before eleven, Joel cuts the engine at the end of her block and walks Esme to the door, looking shyer with every step towards the geraniums on either side of it. She squeezes his hand and rises up on her tiptoes for a parting kiss: chaste, sweet, and comforting (even if she lingers a little).

“Goodnight,” Esme whispers just before the front door opens to reveal Yvette and Tobin behind her. "See you tomorrow?" Esme asks, eyes hopeful where her voice is cautiously casual.

“'Course,” Joel answers, smile as tender as the hand that gently pushes Esme’s hair behind her ear from where the helmet had squashed it awkwardly.

"Kay," Esme beams; Yvette clears her throat and Esme flushes a little before turning to go inside—she pauses to call over her shoulder, "Say hi to Mittens for me!" before disappearing into the house.

They go to the beach one summer day to soak up the sun and each other. The water is barely cold enough to justify Esme's excuse for insisting that she needs to snuggle up to Joel on the shore after they're done splashing about, but neither of them poke the façade. Sunset glitters on the water in a riot of gold and flushed sky. Esme drags her finger through the wet sand beside them, drawing out a heart big enough to fit both their hands in. Joel watches, smiling at the concentration on Esme's face, though there's a strange glimmer of nervousness in his eyes.

"Put your hand here," Esme instructs, tugging Joel's wrist so he presses his palm flat to one of the spaces inside. She lays her hand in the other, stroking the tip of her thumb over Joel's knuckles before she pushes her hand down into the empty half of the heart. "Heart handholding. Hearting."

Joel smiles and lifts his hand, shakes the sand off, and cups Esme's face, thumb brushing over the freckles that are starting to show under summer sun. They're barely visible, hidden little treasures he's found by virtue of knowing how to look tenderly enough to be let close. He traces a little heart over her cheek, connecting the faint freckles into an invisible constellation. "Heart headholding. Hearting."

The constellation crinkles up into a new spread of stars as Esme laughs. Joel's hand is still warm where it brackets her face, but he doesn't tip her head up to meet him—she does that herself, smiling as he lowers his head to kiss her softly, slow enough that it feels like she's melting like the shore under rolling waves.

When she opens her eyes, Joel is holding a little velvet-flocked box. The hope in his face is the colour of home and the way his eyes turn into dark honey under sunlight—the promise ring is gold with a dark red stone cut into the shape of a heart, and its slim band fits around her finger as neatly as her arms wrap around him.

"It's beautiful," Esme says, holding her hand up so the heart sparkles in the dying sun. Aplesnay is tiny and she already knows that she doesn't have enough fingers or toes to count the days Joel must have saved up for this. "I love it, Jojo." I love you.

She wants to say it, wants it more than anything she's ever wanted in this shining mayfly brightness of youth: the words taste so sweet shimmering on her tongue, but there's a clench of fear that keeps her voice down. She's not good enough for herself, nowhere near the perfect girls in the magazines or on TV, never sweet or smart or anything enough, not when you look close—how can she ever be enough for someone as perfect as Joel? She's just gotten unthinkably lucky so far—and Esme learned early not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, she looks at Joel and hopes that he knows what's behind the giggle she can't stop from escaping her lips before she rolls onto him, holding his face between her hands and peppering kisses over his face like she can leave him a constellation to match hers. I love you. I love you. I love you.

"I love...you just make everything feel right. We're like my mom and dad," she says later, when they're watching the last of the day spill over the ocean. "Y'know?"

Joel turns and looks at her, fingers finding hers and squeezing gently. "Yeah," he murmurs, and his eyes sparkle before he kisses her. And they keep sparkling even as night cools the beach and paints their shadows long and blue along the sand.

His room is always neat, welcoming in the way of a simple memory and well-worn, familiar touch. Esme stares at the framed verse on Joel's nightstand and fidgets with the promise ring on her finger. Corinthians 16:14, Let all that you do be done in love.

She should have known that he'd see through her attempts to smile. Joel's concern cuts deep, salt rubbed in raw by the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder, embrace too tender for the knives her voice has unsheathe from her throat. Esme would kill someone for calling her meek, but that's exactly what her voice rolls into, pricked by brambles, when she says slowly, "You know how I applied to school in the city? I, um...I got in."

"That's great!" he says, and it feels like she's being torn apart by the earnestness holding Joel's voice together. "Congratulations, Essie—I know you worked really hard for this. I'm so proud of you and so happy for you."

She lets him hug her tight—hugs him back just as tightly—and hates herself for it. Joel cradles the back of Esme's head, callused fingers unbearably tender, and Esme knows that if she believed in hell, this would be the moment that would sentence her soul there. The killing sentences she'd prepared herself to deliver slide back down like bile.

Esme can't look at him when he kisses her goodbye one last time at the door. She'll always wish she did.

"I can give you a ride," Joel offers—when Esme thinks back on it, she's never quite sure if she's imagined the note of desperation in his voice, and worse still is that she doesn't know if that would make it hurt more or less.

"That's okay," she says (let all that you do be done in love). "Thanks, Jojo."

At home, Esme types out what she'd meant to say in person (is it really love if she's so selfish? this kindness feels like cruelty no matter how much her head is spinning), deletes it, and retypes it five times before hitting send.

we shouldn't have to wait around for each other. sorry.

It has to be curt, with all the sharpness of how Esme tells—used to tell—the pretty people who like flirting with Jojo—Joel—Joseph to piss off into the next dimension's hell. She's got to sever her own heartstrings as well as his, after all. Esme cries herself to sleep and dreams of taking pictures at the beach and a drawing in the sand that the waves never manage to wash away.

Her parents drive her to the airport. Esme's flight is delayed and her fingertips touch bare skin when she goes to fidget with the garnet heart whose comfort is locked inside her carry-on. Even that feels like she doesn't deserve it.

On the plane, she taps out a message to the only person she hasn't said goodbye to and sits in a cycle of deleting and rewriting until takeoff. Her seat neighbor smiles sympathetically. "First time flying?"

Esme's never been on a plane before, but she shakes her head, remembers black nights and the way Joel's hair streaks gold under streetlamps in summer. "No. Just my first time leaving home."

"Ahh. Hey, chin up, don't let the nerves get to you. You'll do just fine!"

Classes are hard, the devil works harder, and Esme decides that for the amount of money draining into this school from her bank account, she's working smarter. She starts with streamlining her schedule (dance PE credit sparks more joy than queuing up for the campus gym and getting ogled on the elliptical anyway) and ends up going to office hours for Ethics in Business and Organisations thrice a week.

Taran (he freaks if you call him Mr. Etoni, as their entire discussion section found out on day one) starts recognising her on week two. The way he smiles like he's in on some joke you aren't isn't unique to just her, but it does make Esme hate the idea of asking him a stupid question, so she researches their homework, the textbook, and every paper she can find by the same authors before showing up.

The third day, Taran glances at her quizzically from across his desk. "You...these short answers are all right, Esme. You went into more detail than I was expecting—than any of the TAs would. You've been coming in a lot. Not just to see me, right?"

He laughs, and Esme's face burns as fiercely red as her hair—the brown dye faded fast under dorm water, clinging auburn at the ends of her hair like autumn leaves that refuse to fall just yet. "No, no, I—" she splutters (does she look like that kind of girl? is that what she is, without Joel? is that what she's always been?). She looks away sharply and her breath hitches when she sees the citation scrawled in Taran's distinct, long-stroked handwriting on the whiteboard calendar. Corinthians 16:14.

"Are you Catholic?" Her voice comes out more demand than she meant it to—not that she'd meant to ask at all, but now the words are out and Esme's spine is prickling with adrenaline she doesn't know how to explain.

Taran glances between her and the whiteboard a few times before answering, "Uh, yes? Raised that way, anyway. You too?" His smile is smooth, curiosity rippling through bright blue eyes.

Orientation introduced Esme to a lot of people and the delicate art of covering up shock with a sparkly smile (turns out she's a fast learner as to what kind of hot fresher takes are even worth engaging with). "No, it just reminded me of someone. That's his favourite verse."

Taran's eyebrows lift and he nods. "Nice. Pretty romantic—your boyfriend?"

Esme's smile falters and she looks down at her hands: bare and a little cold from the aggressive AC in the building. "Oh, um, no. I don't—I don't have a boyfriend."

"Well, in that case, what are you doing this weekend?"

The world seems to go very still and very silent for a split second. The place where Esme's little red heart used to sit aches and she folds the fingers of her other hand over the wound. She'd told him herself not to wait. Unfair to him and to everything they'd had, to lament how she'd ruined it like this. Let all that you do be done in love. Esme wishes she'd had the courage to say it sooner, that day at the beach.

Taran looks a little concerned at how long it's taking her to respond. Esme swallows and looks up at him—his eyes like the ocean, washing over her like some kind of baptism. The salt won't sting if she just swims a little deeper. Taran isn't perfect—she's not expecting him to be. But he's already the opposite of Joel, and maybe that's what will help.

"Um, whatever you want to do, I guess!"

[rubyvhs]

Remedy Sneak Peak

So glad everyone is enjoying remedy so far, I’ve decided to def make it longer than three parts since I added a little something extra to the plot. It’s coming out the 24th I believe? We’ll see, but it won’t be later than that. Here’s a little (long) piece of my baby so far:

You settle on your favorite jeans and a dark green long sleeve shirt. It’s cold but not enough to warrant a hoodie, not that you have that many, anyways. They ruin your outfits. Sometimes. 

The second you're done you attempt to add some color back into your face after so much studying. Some blush, a little gloss, a lot of highlight. And there. Presentable— you would even go so far as to say, pretty— which is what gives you the courage to go to Jess’s room. She’s on Gen’s lap and— oh. That’s… yep they’re making out. Maybe you should try to knock sometime?

“I hate you…” Jess wines after she whips her head to see you come in. They’d been too occupied to think of locking the door. “…what are you wearing?”

Is it… oh God, do you look that bad? You actually really like the outfit, even your hair and makeup. “What, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, you’re so fucking gorgeous but why are you dressed up like this— you whore! Is that highlight?”

Contrary to Jess’s beliefs, you can clean up nice when you want to. In all honesty, you’re always trying your best to look as good as you can, in small ways. Accessories, new hairstyles, always having your outfits on hand by taking pictures of the ones you like the most. Even if it’s casual like right now, because you know these two colors match well. But as far as makeup goes, your gloss and blush are all you need. Anything extra and you want to impress a guy. 

Not Jess’s words. Yours. 

“I hate you, slut.”

“Not the point. Where are you going?”

“Out.” You say quietly from your spot in the doorway. Yeah, make her feel like you’re on a top secret mission while you’re at it. “With Sam.”

Gen’s the one that sits up this time. “Sam? Right now? It’s eight o’clock.”

You nod then shrug. So? He only said it’d be a drive. You walk towards her to lean down and pull her into a quick hug.  “It might not even be an hour, don’t worry. Will you be here when I get back?” She kisses your cheek in response, so she’s sleeping over and then Jess pulls you down to the bed.

“What is happening right now?!” 

“Way to be cool about it.”

“I’m not trying to be cool about anything. First off, send me your location so I don’t bother you if you decide to go back to his house—.”

“Not happening.” You dust yourself off and walk away slowly.

“— second, tell me everything when you’re back. And be responsible. And take my power bank so your phone stays charged. And make sure he brings you back home, don’t fucking Uber!” You’re half way out of her room as she screams the rest of her long, very reasonable, list. 

You already took your own power bank and you checked your purse ten times for money, gum and keys. You’ll be fine. 

You shout an ‘I love you’ as you spray on your perfume and get some water. Mentally preparing for a night out alone with a guy? Super hard. You don’t think Jess knows. Maybe you mentioned it, but it doesn’t matter, she wouldn’t understand how big of a deal this is to you. Obviously because she’s into girls, but it’s also ‘cause she didn’t grow up like you. None of these people did. Especially not Sam. 

I’m two minutes away.

Okay. Mentally preparing time is cut short. You can do this. You’re a big girl who’s turning eighteen in a few (six) months. You’ve got this. More perfume and yeah, okay. Time to go. Why aren’t your feet moving?

Missed the last part? Here! Comment if you wanna be tagged.

tag list: @angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Violence of You

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

Rating: E (Smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: THIS IS DARK. Rough sex, BDSM elements, dom!Dave, sub!reader, Daddy kink, one (1) slap, humiliation, pain kink, spanking, knife play, blood play, hurt/comfort, good aftercare, soft!Dave

Summary: You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it.

A/N: Please heed the warnings. This popped into my head and I couldn’t let it go. Reader is a bit (or a lot) fucked up, Dave is secretly soft. Thank you to @pedropascalsx and @leslie-lyman for looking this over and assuring me I'm not insane. Or maybe it's just us three...

Masterlist

It’s late when the phone rings. Dave recognizes the number, but he answers it with his standard work greeting anyway.

“York.”

He’s greeted by a few moments of silence. He can hear the sound of shaky breathing, as if the person on the other end of the call is fighting to calm themselves down enough to speak. Finally, they do.

“Dave.” 

“Been a long time,” he remarks quietly.

“Yeah.”

A few more beats of silence. Dave is patient, though. Dave waits. 

“Will you come over?”

Dave doesn’t answer.

“I need you.”

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, but his cock is already stiffening in his pants at the thought of what will happen if he says ‘yes.’ Finally, he responds.

“Ask nicely, and we’ll see.”

“...Please.” The word is gritted out through clenched teeth as if it causes the speaker physical pain to utter it.

Dave rolls his eyes. “I’m not playing these games tonight. You have one more chance to ask the way you know you’re supposed to, or it’s not happening at all.”

For a few moments, all Dave can hear are those shaky breaths again. If it were anyone else, he would assume that the person was crying, but he knows better.

“Please… Daddy.”

Dave’s lips curl into a smile. 

“That’s better.”

— — — — — — — — — 

You can’t stop shaking. 

It isn’t supposed to feel like this–it isn’t supposed to feel at all. You aren’t supposed to feel at all. It was supposed to have been beaten out of you years ago. If you asked most people, they’d say that you didn’t feel anything. You, the stone cold bitch. The heartless killer. The ice queen. 

Dave York isn’t most people. 

You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it. How long had you been at home before you gave in and called him? It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Ten minutes of staring at your blank walls, not knowing any other way to calm the tempest inside you.

No one else can do it quite like Dave York. 

When the knock comes, you scramble for the door.

He’s a statue in the moonlight. It glints off of his skin, making him appear almost otherworldly. His face is neutral, a blank mask of indifference. His eyes sweep your form–down, then back up. He raises one eyebrow. It’s the only part of his face that moves.

“Rough night?”

You scoff. “You could say that.” 

Dave moves, then, his hand coming up to grip your chin, tilting your head to the side as he examines the angry welt on your temple.

“Let someone get the better of you, huh?” he asks sardonically. 

“You should see the other guy.” 

“I don’t doubt it.”

Dave’s other hand ghosts over the wound, achingly softly. His expression pulls downward into a slight frown as he takes in the bruised skin and dried blood.

“Don’t do that,” you murmur.

“Don’t do what?” Dave asks, playing dumb.

“You know what. Don’t be gentle. You know that’s not what I need.”

Dave’s grip on your chin turns bruising. He squeezes, hard enough that your lips are forced apart. “I don’t give a fuck what you say you need. I say what you need. Don’t I?”

That’s more like it. Your eyes close gratefully as you reply. “Yes.” You purposefully leave off half of that sentence, and you wait in anticipation for the backlash. It comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the broken skin, causing pain to radiate through your head. Good. You gasp out your correction.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Get inside.”

You’ve always had an odd relationship with pain. Even as a child, you’d dig your fingernails into your skin when your feelings felt as if they were too large for your head. The pain helps. You don’t want soft touches and tender sex after a bad day. You want someone with teeth, to make you really feel it. Pain grounds you, keeps you from floating away. You need someone to ground you. 

Dave York forces you roughly to your knees the minute the door latches shut. 

“Tell me our safeword,” he says flatly.

“Colt.”

“Good.” Dave unbuckles his belt. “I’ve missed this fucking mouth,” he growls as he unzips his pants and frees his cock. Your eyes threaten to roll when you see that he’s not wearing any underwear. 

“Suck,” he commands.

You know he expects you to disobey. You usually do, when it’s a direct order like this. If he didn’t want to mess around, he wouldn’t bother with the command; he’d simply force your mouth open and feed it to you himself. The accompanying order is positively begging to be refused.

“No.”

There’s a satisfying crack as Dave’s hand connects with the uninjured side of your face. The pain smarts deliciously across your cheek. Dave doesn’t pull his punches. 

Now he grabs your chin and pulls you onto his cock.

Dave doesn’t give you any time to recover from the slap, or relax your throat, or prepare in any way for the onslaught of his thrusts. He fucks your face with ruthless brutality, not seeming to care that you’re choking on him, or about the mess of tears and snot on your face that he’s creating. You feel drunk on the feeling of helplessness. Finally, you don’t have to think. You don’t have to act. You allow yourself to be used by him. 

Just when you feel like you’re somehow adjusting to the feel of Dave’s cock ramming down your throat, he suddenly rips himself away, gripping his cock with a hiss of effort. He was about to cum. The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s not ready yet–you’re in for a long night. 

“You’re a fucking mess,” Dave remarks, although you aren’t sure if he’s talking about the tears staining your cheeks or the way he knows you like this treatment. “Strip.”

You obey, stripping off the oversized t-shirt that you’d thrown on after showering off the sweat and grime as you waited for Dave to come over tonight. You awkwardly shove your loose pajama pants down your legs and kick them behind you, remaining on your knees for him. You’re bare underneath–there wasn’t much of a point of putting anything on, not when you knew that you’d end up like this. 

“Bedroom,” he commands, and you dutifully start to rise to your feet. Dave shoves you back down, sending you sprawling to your hands and knees. “No,” he says. “Crawl.”

Sometimes you wonder if there’s any boundaries that you wouldn’t cross, if there’s anything that Dave could do that would make your brain say ‘Nope’ and your safeword to fall from your lips. So far, you haven’t found it. It’s fucking humiliating, crawling naked on your hands and knees while Dave follows behind you. The floor is hard and cold beneath you, and you focus on the bite of it on your skin as you move forward. You don’t hear Dave pulling his belt from his belt loops.

Crack.

You stumble to your elbows as the belt smarts against the backs of your thighs, close enough to your pussy that you can feel the burn of it. You grit your teeth and refuse to make a sound. You know what will happen; Dave will keep going, he won’t stop until something–a whimper, a cry, a moan–escapes you.You aren’t disappointed. Again and again, the belt comes down as you shuffle forward on your knees. Finally, after the eighth blister of pain, you break, and a little sob falls from your lips. 

Dave doesn’t stop, but the intensity of the hits lessen somewhat. You smile inwardly. He never can help himself. That’s the funny thing about Dave York. His outer shell is damn-near impenetrable, the rough edges go deep, but contrary to what most people believe, they don’t go all the way to his core. 

It’s fine, that edge runs deep enough that he’ll do some absolutely depraved shit with you, and that’s all you need.

You don’t need–or want–the softness that lurks inside.

There’s no gentleness to be found now as Dave grips you by the back of your neck and throws you on the bed. Your equilibrium is thrown off; you don’t have time to get your bearings before Dave is on you, straddling your thighs and pinning your hands above your head with one large hand. You struggle, only so he’s forced to hold you down harder. You buck against him and he makes a low noise in his throat. You keep going, trying in vain to wrench your hands free of his grip, squirming back and forth, letting out little grunts of effort until Dave is forced to act.

You freeze at the cold press of metal to the side of your neck.

“That shut you up, didn’t it?” Dave remarks, dragging the tip of the knife across your skin. “You’re a pain in Daddy’s ass, you know that?” The flat edge of the blade slides down to your chest as he talks. “Always fighting against what you want. What you need.” 

“I need–” you gasp softly as the tip of the knife presses lightly against your sternum. “Yes. Do it.”

Dave’s eyes flash dark at your request. How far will Dave go? How much can you push him? What can you make this man do? You bat your eyelashes up at him. “Please, Daddy?”

You’re manipulating him, and Dave knows it. His lips purse into a frown, but he allows the knife to puncture the skin, drawing the smallest of beads of blood to the surface. 

“You’re fucked up, you know that?” Dave murmurs as he watches you.

“Says the man digging the knife into my chest.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

The tip digs in harder, and you sob in relief. This is what you need, you need to feel something, anything, to distract you from your thoughts. 

“Yes,” you keen, arching your back to him. “Fuck, Dave, please. Dave–Daddy–” You babble for him, nonsense and pleas and cries of his name, anything, as long as he keeps it up. 

You’re too far gone to see Dave’s conflicted expression as he digs the knife in further, causing the rivulet of blood to grow until the surface tension breaks and it runs down your chest, between your breasts. 

Dave makes a low sound in his throat as he leans down to lathe the skin with his tongue, smearing the red across your chest as he takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard before biting down. Your cunt clenches around nothing, the biting mixture of pleasure and pain–mostly the latter, although you prefer it that way–making you wetter than ever. You start to buck your hips again, this time not to struggle, but to seek any kind of friction, to invite Dave in.

Dave chuckles softly and withdraws the knife, causing you to whimper. His hand grips your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open, and he wipes the blade on your exposed tongue.

“Clean Daddy’s knife off like a good girl,” Dave murmurs. “Such a depraved, filthy little thing. No one else would ever do this shit for you, would they? Just me.”

“Just you, Daddy,” you whisper in agreement.

“Turn over,” Dave commands. “Let me see how wet I make you.”

You obey thoughtlessly, getting on your knees with your ass in the air for him. He spreads you apart with his thumbs, his hands feeling almost clinical as he looks at you like this. The skin on the backs of your thighs is still tender from the belt, and Dave knows it, the way he squeezes them. More pain, he knows that's what you want. More, more, more. Maybe then you can finally let go. 

"Fucking soaked," Dave remarks, his tone somewhere in between mocking and reverence. 

He slaps your pussy twice for effect before he shoves his cock into you.

As wet as you are, you aren't ready–you never are, Dave always makes sure of that. It's been ages since you've felt him reaching that spot deep inside that no one else has ever seemed to be able to find, and you cry out with relief. 

Dave seems to be thinking the same thing. "Fuck, been a long time since I've felt this pussy squeeze me," he groans out. 

His hips slam against yours over and over, his cock hitting something that makes you ache. He's less than gentle, but it's still not enough. 

"Daddy, please," you murmur under your breath. 

"I know," Dave answers. "I know what you need. My pretty little disaster, my fucked up little thing. No one else understands, do they? No one else knows what you need like I do."

His words are laced with fondness, and it makes something deep inside of you ignite. 

"Dave," you whine. 

"I know," he says again, and his fingers curl around your neck and start to squeeze. 

You always beg him for this. The sharp pain he gives you is never enough–the belt, the knife, the stab of his cock–you always seek a void in the end. Dave chokes you until your head goes fuzzy, until your vision clouds. The sting of your injuries–both the ones from your failed mission and from Dave’s own hand–fade into the background, replaced by a beautiful nothingness. 

“Cum for me,” you hear Dave demand over the roar of blood rushing to your head. 

You only ever did bend for him. You’re vaguely aware of the feeling of overwhelming release washing over you, just as your vision starts to go dark. The pressure of Dave’s hand abruptly leaves, and you pitch forward, gasping for air. You don’t even realize that you’re shaking. 

Dave pulls out and flips you over and you flop on your back, pliant and moldable for him. You blink up at him dumbly as he fucks his own fist to completion over your body. Your vision is still swimming as you feel the first hot splashes on your chest and neck, intermingling with the blood and making a fucking mess of you. 

After he milks the last drops of cum from his cock, Dave lets out a heavy sigh, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. 

Then he leaves.

You stare blankly at the ceiling, unsure of the passage of time and if Dave has actually left your house or not. You don’t feel the same sense of relief as you normally feel after Dave utterly ruins you like this. You just feel numb. Have you become too accustomed to this treatment? God, what more can you take? What more can you possibly do to make everything quiet? It wasn’t enough, and now he’s gone, and you’re left here alone with your thoughts again and you should probably get up, clean off the blood and cum and try to sleep, but you can’t move, you can’t–

“Hey.” A soft, deep voice cuts through your inner monologue. “Slow down. You’re having a panic attack.”

Are you? You aren’t really aware of your body, but it does seem like maybe you’re breathing unusually fast, that your pulse is pounding too rapidly in your injured temple.

“Jesus,” Dave mutters under his breath. “Come here.”

You let him pull you to your feet and guide you into your bathroom, where steam is already rising from your bathtub. The lump in your throat starts to grow.

“Don’t do this,” you murmur.

“Don’t do what.”

“Don’t–no aftercare, please. It doesn’t do any good.”

Dave snorts humorlessly. He grips your chin again–far gentler than before–and forces you to look in his eyes.

“You’re not in charge of this situation,” Dave says, keeping his voice a monotone. “I am. And I decide what you need. Now get in the bath.” 

The hot water stings the cuts and scrapes, and you let out a little whimper in spite of yourself. Dave is by your side, a warm cloth gently dabbing at your chest. It’s the tenderness that hurts more than the injuries. It forces you to face something within you–something about Dave–that makes you yearn for him. You’ve missed him–his deadpan way of speaking, the clinical, cold way that he touches you, and then this. The way his hands are full of care, the way he’s gently bathing you, the way he’ll almost surely insist on patching you up when you get out. 

“I’ve missed this.” Dave gives voice to the emotion welling up inside you. 

“Don’t–” you beg weakly. You know he doesn't miss how your voice breaks on the word.

“What the hell happened to you out there tonight?” Dave murmurs.

“Intel was bad,” you mumble. “They knew we were coming. Migs barely escaped with his life. They killed Andrews. They made me watch,” you whisper. “You know he was like a brother to me.”

You watch Dave’s throat bob up and down as he swallows. “I know,” he says quietly.

“He was the only one left from our original group,” you say, the tears threatening to rise to the surface. “There’s no one left. If anything happened to me now, no one would even fucking know. There’s no one left to mourn.”

Dave hauls you to his chest, not caring that you’re dripping water all over him, all over the bathroom floor. “I would,” he says quietly. “I would know.” The left goes unsaid, but he may as well have said it, for how loudly it reverberates in your head. I would mourn.

The quiet admission finally breaks you. You sob into Dave’s chest, the emotion you tried desperately to distract from, to numb, to replace with physical pain finally washing over you. Dave doesn’t shush you, he doesn’t talk. He’s a mountain, immovable and stoic against your rage and sorrow. He allows the storm to beat against his slopes until it runs out of steam, and you slump forward in defeat. 

Only when the water begins to cool does Dave speak. 

“Let me take a look at that nasty thing on your head.”

You let Dave pull you up out of the water, your legs knocking together, awkward and gangly like a newborn foal. He wraps you in one of your towels, and then a spare blanket from the closet, pushing you down onto the bed for the second time that night. You sit on the edge, the tears still drying on your cheeks as Dave kneels at your feet with a first aid kit. 

You try to remain impassive as Dave’s hands touch your face. One of them cradles your jaw; the other dabs the broken skin with an alcohol wipe before applying a dot of antibacterial cream to the area. You glance at his eyes only once, the open emotion in them forcing you to look away. 

Dave finishes with a bandage, taking care not to capture any of your hair with the adhesive. You think you’re done feeling things for the night, and then his lips are soft and warm against your forehead. 

Asshole. 

He doesn’t let you get up until he’s cleaned and bandaged the little knife wound, either. It doesn’t need a bandage, not really, but you allow the indulgence because his hands are soft and gentle and soothing and it makes you ache in another way entirely. 

Dave stands, but doesn’t move away. This is the part where you tell him to leave. You always tell him to leave, you can’t tolerate his soft intensity or the way he touches you like a precious object after giving you the violence that you crave. 

You usually pass out when Dave leaves, a result of the adrenaline finally leaving your body.

You don’t think that will be the case tonight.

Dave clears his throat. You can tell he doesn’t want to go, but he turns and starts to pick up his clothes.

Before you can think about it, your hand darts out, your fingers closing around his wrist. 

“Stay,” you whisper.

Dave’s head whips around, his eyebrows upturned as you say the word you swore you never would.

“I’m not playing these games tonight,” Dave murmurs, his tone laced with affection and humor. “You have one more chance to ask the way you know you’re supposed to, or it’s not happening at all.”

A hesitant smile reaches your lips. It’s shaky–as if you aren’t sure how to do it properly–but now that it’s started, you can’t seem to stop the spread of it.  “Daddy,” you whisper. “Stay.”

[theworldofotps]

Sharing Secrets

(Are These Cute Drabble Part Two)

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader Word Count: 1,271 Description: Rhea finally shares her secret with you.

Part One

Thank you so much to @new-zealand-chic for reading over a majority of this I appreciate it. Thank you @omg-im-such-a-masochist for helping me keep from fucking it up with stuff going too fast. That’s why yall didn’t get smut I decided to do that in the final part 3😂🤣

_________ Tag List

@omg-im-such-a-masochist @damnnhausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @biforrollynch @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @xbreezymeadowsx @rebellious-desires @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @letsgivethisonemoreshot @mcreignsera @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @cuzimacomedian @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @melblacc @alliwant456 @elevennbloom

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. __________

“I’m telling you Damian I didn’t think I was going to make it. I had to make up an excuse on why I couldn’t hang out with her until after dinner. And then when I went to sleep I kept seeing them in my dreams.”

Rhea drops her head on the table causing Damian to wince.

“Okay first off, don’t do that you’re going to get a headache or damage your brain more so then it already is.”

“Piss off!”

She laughs, turning her head to look at him and give him the finger.

“Asshole.”

Chuckling Damian shrugs his shoulders.

“Look, you’ve been crushing on her for nearly a year and a half. I think it’s time you just come right out and tell her. If it’s getting to the point you can’t escape her even in your dreams which will start keeping you up at night. Then you need to tell her, knowing is better then wondering and stressing yourself out. Besides it’s y/n she’s not going to kick you out of her life if she doesn’t feel the same.”

“I suppose you’re probably right, I should just come right out and tell her. Maybe we’ll just have only a small awkward time period. Thank D I really appreciate all the help and advice you’ve given me with this.”

“You’re welcome. I'm happy to help you out anyway I can. You’re familia and as such you get all the big brother privileges.”

Giving him a hug Rhea finishes her lunch and promises to text him later with details. Heading back towards her room Rhea pulls out her phone.

Goth Wife💋🖤: Hey I need to talk to you about something? Are you free to meet? It’s kinda personal so maybe my or your room would work best

Hesitating for a few moments Rhea sighs she needed to do this but the fear it could all end horribly wouldn’t leave her mind. Taking a deep breath she pressed send then shoves her phone into her pocket. Best to just leave it out of sight for now.

Taking the elevator to her hotel room Rhea swipes her key and closes the door behind her. She needed something to keep her mind busy while she waited.

Y/n/n⚰️🖤: Yeah uh give me ten minutes and I’ll just come to yours

Goth Wife💋🖤: Okay thanks see you soon

“Okay okay so just gotta spit it out when she gets here.”

Rhea mumbles to herself as she rubs her palms on her pants. She was trying not to freak out, the unknown of what could happen was really making her anxious.

“It’s just y/n one of your best friends you can tell her anything.”

Looking in the mirror to give herself a pep talk. When she hears a knock the fear spikes up as she turns to the door. She was half tempted to just pretend she wasn’t here and forget about everything.

“Rhea? Come on open up, it's cold out in the hallway.”

“Be right there!”

Taking a deep breath she once more wipes off her pants then opens the door letting you in.

“Hey thanks for coming, go ahead and have a seat wherever.”

Hanging the do not disturb sign cause the last thing they needed was a coworker knocking and stealing Rhea’s nerve to do this.

Turning to see you sat on a chair Rhea tried to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat.

“What did you need to talk about? Is everything okay, did I do something?”

“No no you didn’t do anything I just wanted to try and tell you something. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while and every time I get close I lose my nerve.”

Sitting on her bed facing you Rhea opens her mouth to speak.

“I uh.”

‘Come on Ripley just say it for crying out loud!’

“I like you.”

‘Way to sound like a fucking middle schooler.’

“Yeah I like you too, I already knew that.”

You laugh softly and watch her noticing how her cheeks were slowly turning a pink.

“No I mean I have feelings for you like I am crushing on you. Not just I like you as a friend. I know this is probably shocking but figured it was time you knew. Now I don’t expect anything okay? Just making that clear so you don’t feel pressured. But you deserve to know and.”

“I like you too Rhea, the same way you feel about me.”

Rhea stops and looks at you tilting her head to the side in surprise.

“Wait you do?”

“Of course I do. How much more transparent do I need to be? I’ve been dropping hints for a while now.”

You say with a smile shaking your head a soft laugh leaving you.

“Rhea I literally sent you a underwear pic wearing YOUR merch with my boobs almost visible. If that isn’t clear enough that I have feelings for you then I don’t know what else I have to do. Because sending photos like that is not something that happens with my other friends.”

“I’m sorry I thought you were just being cheeky, I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t there’s no need to feel stupid, but I’m glad you’ve told me.”

Standing you walk over and gently take her hands in yours.

“This is a conversation I’ve wanted to have with you for a long time. I just wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same.”

Rhea confesses and gently kisses the back of your hands. Pulling you to sit beside her Rhea sighs.

“So where do we go from here?”

Thinking for a moment you look back at her.

“Well, I think we should do whatever feels best for us. If you want to make it official, or if you want to go on dates first it’s whatever we want. Every relationship is different.”

“I want everything that goes with being yours, I want us to be girlfriends but I also want us to be able to enjoy some privacy before we tell everyone. If that’s okay with you, I mean maybe we can tell Damian.”

You say looking at her, your heart was pounding as you waited to hear her thoughts.

“Will you be my girlfriend y/n?”

Rhea smiles watching your face light up as you quickly nod your head.

“I’d love to.”

Pulling you into a hug Rhea feels a sense of peace, the secret that she’d been keeping for so long was finally out.

“Can I ask you something now that you’ve gotten that situated?”

You whisper, pulling back to look at her, a small smile on your face as she agrees.

“What was your reaction to the picture I sent you?”

“I was pleasantly surprised. That's why I couldn’t meet you until after dinner because I was trying to collect myself. But that’s all that kept popping into my head for the rest of the night.”

Rhea confesses as she looks at her hands.

“And that’s why you cut our hangout early?”

“Yep, I just couldn’t look at you and stop thinking about that picture.”

Normally you weren’t so straightforward but with Rhea you felt like you could say anything and seeing the badass Rhea Ripley so shy and awkward was cute.

“Well as much as I would like to let you have a repeat of that picture but in person, I think we should go out for dinner or something first.”

Looking up at you surprised, Rhea chuckles and stands up looking at you with a smirk.

“Lets go gorgeous lets see where the night takes us.”

[sukirichi]

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one  ✘  two  ✘  three 

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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[blu-joons]

Our Little Girl ~ Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Expecting Dad!Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: Slightly descriptive pregnancy, labour and birth

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Your little girl has been what the two of you have dreamt of for so long, finally the time has come to welcome her into the world with Jungkook by your side.

“You know, for a man that’s about to raise a daughter for the next eighteen years at least, you’re looking rather cocky.”

Jungkook could only smile from the other side of the room as a grimace danced upon your face at the feeling of another contraction hitting you. You’d lost count of the hours you’d been almost doubled over in bed some time ago, barely able to keep your eyes open at the excruciating pain that you found yourself in. With each passing breath, the gaps of relief that came between contractions became smaller and smaller, almost unbearable.

You’d watched plenty of documentaries before your pregnancy to know what to expect, and yet as you found yourself staring forwards at the figure of your husband, keeping his distance from your growing temper, none of what you saw on the television seemed to play out before you. Under watery eyes, you could just make out the time on the clock hanging just above Jungkook’s head, 3:15am.  You scoffed at the sight, doubting even in yourself how much longer you could go through such an ordeal. Despite the several months you’d had to lead up to this moment, not a single part of it could truly prepare you for what was to come.

As another struck against the pit of your stomach, Jungkook raced back across to your side, resting his hands over your reddened ones that gripped tightly onto the rails beside your bed. Murmurs of encouragement came from him, words you’d listened to him repeat for countless hours, and still each time they somehow managed to make your heart a little bit happier. As he counted you through the breaths to see you through, his free hand brushed over your hair, ignoring the beads of sweat that had formed in your hairline as best as he possibly could, focusing on the task at hand and being the best possible husband instead.

“You’re doing so incredibly well,” he whispered as he noticed that the pain was beginning to subside once again, offering you the best possibly smile he could muster, hiding his own feelings of exhaustion that were beginning to come through. Your head nodded, tilting slightly to the left, biting down on your bottom lip until you were sure that the contraction had subsided. A small wriggle from your little one let you know they were done for the time being, waiting patiently, or impatiently, to make their grand entrance.

“You’re getting close now,” your midwife called out, stood in the doorway, keeping an eye on the corridor as she had done for most of the evening, and night. “I must admit, I’ve not seen many women get through labour as well as you have for quite some time Y/N.”

“I’m not really left with much of an alternative to get through it right now,” you sighed, throwing your body back against the bed, allowing the sweat ridden sheets to wrap around you. The end never seemed to quite be in sight, no matter how many times her cheery voice suggested otherwise. In fact, if Jisoo wasn’t quite such a sweetheart, you’d have probably given her what for a long time ago with all of her reassurances.

“She’s a strong girl, I always told you that,” Jungkook whispered from the side of you, grinning proudly across at the elder woman. “So strong I think I might end up having to take up one of your beds soon with a couple of broken knuckles, are women supposed to squeeze this hard when they’re in labour?”

Jisoo’s head nodded, having told you about her four kids several times throughout the night, she had experience on both sides. She’d seen it all, broken hands, broken noses, but best of all, hundreds of humans enter the world.  

“Y/N you do what you want, ignore your husband,” she teased.

Once again, your head could only manage a nod, too consumed by the everchanging feelings that were going on around your bump to truly pay much attention to what was being said around you. The beep of the heart monitor, murmurs of passers-by, shrieks of other women in the ward all seemed to amalgamate into one at this point.

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait around much longer for baby to arrive,” she advised the two of you, “but things are only going to get worse, are you sure that I can’t get you anything?”

“No,” you muttered, despite a concerned Jungkook looking down at your tired figure, “I said that I was going to try and do this naturally, and until I can’t take it anymore, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“No one would think any less of you if you wanted an epidural,” Jungkook reminded you, moving his hand back across to rest over your now much calmer one. “Or maybe gas if you’re not feeling a needle? We saw it on that programme, remember?”

“We spent an hour laughing at a woman too high to even push,” you scolded, shaking your head at the memory. It had tickled you at the time, but the more you thought about not being able to remember your baby’s birth like she had, the more off-putting it became.

“It’s all here just in case,” Jisoo spoke up anyway, pointing across to a small table that was at the back of the delivery room, “too many women change their minds last minute and then we have to leap into action with it all.”

“I bet you might end up having another case like that, she’s a stubborn one,” Jungkook joked.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you- “

You were cut off by another pain stabbing against your side, hurling your body forwards, instantly gripping tighter onto Jungkook’s hand, causing him to yelp. He sat further up in his seat, throwing his free arm around your back, tracing circles against the exposed bit of skin your hospital gown showed off. Your body didn’t have much time to react, snapping your eyes around to look at Jungkook, searching for any bit of help he could offer. Instead, he could only stare helplessly back at you, there was nothing that he could do to truly take away your pain, nothing that would make the experience better for you in that moment, instead all he could promise was to be the best possible father and husband once your little girl eventually decided to come into the world.

As the pain fell aside once again, you leant across to rest against Jungkook’s shoulder, soaking his grey tee, not that he minded, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

“So strong,” he whispered against your skin, as he had done tens, if not hundreds of times since your water broke in the very early hours of the previous day.

“I feel so weak,” you hummed in response to him, loosening your grip against his hand once again, holding onto only his index finger, admiring the tattoos that he wore so proudly. “I always thought I was strong Kook, but even this might be too much for me.”

His head shook instantly at your words, searching across to Jisoo for a small piece of reassurance that could remind you how good of a job you were doing in delivering your miracle.

“Soon,” her voice called out, although it wasn’t much, it was a small bit of hope that you could hold onto that your ordeal would be done soon. You adored Jungkook, but the calls of the professional who had taken such good care of you made you feel a lot better in an instant.

“Soon,” Jungkook reiterated, tightening the hold that he had around your waist, inviting you to relax into his side as opposed to the bed that you’d been on for hours. “This will all be worth it; you just have to remember that through the hard times.”

Another hum came from you, tracing aimlessly against his calloused skin. “I wish it was as easy for me to believe that as it is for you to say it right now.”

“Y/N,” he whispered, kissing against your forehead once again, “please don’t start giving up on any of this right now.”

“I’m just tired,” you whined, fighting the urge to give your eyes even a second to close out of fear of what might happen if you did. “Every part of me is so tired right now.”

“I get it,” Jungkook assured you, refusing to let you go through the fight alone, “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this is for you right now my love.”

“Are you sure it’s too late for us to swap positions?” You joked, trying to remove the negativity that ran through your mind, “I think you’d love to be in labour secretly.”

“You know I would if I could, in a heartbeat,” he sniggered, raising his free hand up innocently, “it’s just such a shame that you’re the one that’s got to go through this. Trust me though, it’s not easy being a spectator, seeing you in so much pain is breaking my heart, I can only watch in awe of what an incredible woman you are.”

“You’ve got a good one there, Y/N,” Jisoo called out as she busied herself in the room, paperwork in hand, unable to stop herself tuning into your conversation. “You’d be surprised how many husbands sit back and relax during a time like this.”

“See, you’ve got a good one,” Jungkook continued to joke, tapping lightly against your arm, “can I get that in writing to remind her of this when this is all over?”

“I can change my mind,” Jisoo responded, drawing a light giggle out of you as the two of them continued to exchange innocent threats for a few minutes, until you chose to interrupt.

The mood of the room instantly turned sombre as a loud groan came from you, leaning forwards once again, breathing under the command of your husband. Whilst Jisoo continued to notice how much quicker your contractions came, Jungkook was solely focused on you, counting each time, resting his hands where you needed them, offering his shoulder back for you to rest on as soon as the contraction finished once again.

“I think I’ve decided something,” you whispered across to Jungkook once you’d caught your breath, “we are definitely only having the one child.”

“But I thought we agreed on an army,” he smirked, earning himself a slap against the bicep from you, although with your strength, the strike was pretty weak, even by your own high standards. Still, Jungkook grabbed at his arm, gasping at the sudden strength that had come over you. “Jisoo will tell you, I bet loads of women say that, but once they remember how sexy their husbands are, a quick trip to the bedroom, and suddenly baby number two comes along.”

“Have you ever met a man who makes sex sound so unappealing?” You asked Jisoo before she even had the time to respond to Jungkook’s comment. “It’s rather confident of you to assume that you’re that sexy anyway.”

Rather than answer either of you, Jisoo made her way across to you, asking Jungkook to give the two of you a bit of space as she checked how far dilated you were. You’d counted down almost every single centimetre, as if your little girl enjoyed teasing you before she was even a part of your world. Each time you hoped for the magic number, but each time Jisoo had muttered something else. You’d almost lost onto your last stretch of hope, that was until you looked across, noticing a wry smile etched across her face.

Before she even said the words, you knew exactly what the smile meant. As if your contractions hadn’t made things obvious enough, the expression on her face was the final touch you needed to know that at last that end was somewhat in sight. Once she called Jungkook back across to your side, his eyes locked with yours, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile, extending his arm out for your hand to intertwine with his. The relief was clear on your face, and in your hold, your body was in turmoil, but now it seemed as if you could finally begin to settle.

You were all too aware that there was a long road ahead of you, but just the thought of pushing appealed to your body and every part of you that was crying out for a rest.

“Ten centimetres,” Jungkook whispered beside you, “I bet that feels pretty good.”

“It feels pretty good,” you smirked, keeping your eyes on him as he sat back down in the chair at your bedside. “I had no idea the body could stretch as big as this, it’s surreal.”

Although he hadn’t taken too close of a look at everything that was going on at the foot of your bed, Jungkook had done enough research to know just how your body was changing. From the very first sign of a bump, Jungkook had waited impatiently for the moment that he finally got to see your little girl come into the world, the final change that would complete what the two of you had dreamt of for so many months.

“I love you,” his voice then whispered, just as your eyes looked away from his and down to your bump, “and our baby, I love our baby too.”

“I love you too,” you smiled, quickly looking back at him, “our little one is the luckiest girl in the world to have you.”

What came over the next few minutes felt like a blur to you, several instructions were sent your way, your body reshuffled with your legs propped up, pillows placed behind your back, and a towel dabbed against your head, but one thing remained, the hold of Jungkook’s hand tightly against yours, refusing to leave your side as the first few pushes began.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed, just after the first few. You’d hoped for some sort of immediate impact, but your baby made no sign of movement instead. If you hadn’t spent hours laid in the hospital bed, you would have given up there and then, but there was one man that was never going to let you do that.

“Patience,” was all that Jungkook had to say, desperate to try and calm you down as he noticed how flustered you became. His hands pressed against your red cheeks before wiping underneath your watery eyes, failing to withhold the pressures that were placed before you.

Whilst labour was never something you expected to be a walk in the park, you could never have prepared yourself for the overwhelming feelings of pain that you’d end up enduring throughout your labour.

“If I push one more time, my body is going to cave,” you admitted, leaning against the cold metal of the rail against the bed. Jungkook’s head instantly shook, moving his arm around you to pick you back up, holding your back against the palm of his large hand.

“You’re far too strong to give up now,” he smiled, standing up from his chair to press a kiss against the side of your head, “there’s still pain relief if you want it, no one is going to think any less of you if that’s what you choose to do,” he reminded you once again, but still your head shook, you’d had plans for how your labour was going to go, and a natural birth was always top of your list of things that you wanted to see through. “Just hold my hand, and don’t break any of my bones and I promise that we’ll get through this together.”

Your eyes rolled at his warning, pinching especially hard against his hand to keep him on his toes, and make sure that he kept his mouth shut too.

“I’m only messing with you,” he whimpered, shaking at your hand for you to loosen your grip around him. “Just try and keep positive babe, we’ve jumped over too many hurdles over the past day to give up now. This one might just be a little bit bigger, but I know more than anything else in the world that you’re going to get over it.”

Your eyelids slowly fluttered shut, letting go of a shaky breath in the hope that it would keep you so composed. Rather than focus on the pain that came from your bump, your mind focused on the traces that Jungkook ran along the back of your hand, just like you’d done against his only a couple of hours ago.

“I just want to hold her and be done with this,” you continued to vent, opening your eyes back up, flinching slightly at the bright lights that came from all four corners of the room you’d somehow ended up calling home.

“I mean it when I say not much longer this time,” Jisoo smiled from the foot of the bed, perched on a stool, keeping a close eye on proceedings. “It’s natural to feel like you want to throw in the towel, there’s often a bit of a wait between dilation and pushing, not feeling anything can sometimes feel worse than the pain of a contraction.”

“You’re spot on,” you responded, forcing the smallest of smiles to your face, hearing a gentle giggle come from Jungkook. “At least the pain let me know that she was definitely moving.”

As if on cue, your baby began to make her presence known again, with Jungkook rising to his feet once again when he noticed how quickly you shot forwards. His arm reached out across your chest to stop you moving too far forwards, just as Jisoo had advised.

Something about this contraction just felt different for you though, as if your little girl was giving you a sign that she really was on her way. Although you couldn’t feel her drop, the pain certainly did. The smile on your face instantly captured Jungkook’s attention, unsure if he should worry, or be pleased to see a sign of happiness in your expression.

“I can feel her,” you whispered across to him before he even had the chance to ask, “it’s like she’s letting me know she’s on her way Kook.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He anxiously queried, looking across to Jisoo who’s head nodded. “She really is on her way, our little girl.”

“Our little girl,” you repeated, feeling his hands press to either side of your face, just managing to press the softest of kisses against your puckered lips before another contraction hit. His left arm instantly moved around your waist as his right hand held onto yours, it had become second nature for Jungkook now to step each time that your body called out for him, a murmur of his name was all that he needed to know exactly what you wanted from him, and as another contraction passed, he was relieved when he could sit back down again.

As soon as it passed, both you and Jungkook stared across to Jisoo, desperate for any sort of update she had on how things were going.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she assured you, “plenty of pushes coming up Y/N.”

“R-really?”

“Hey,” a deep voice whispered beside you, brushing his thumb back across the pad of your hand, drawing your eyes across to him with the sound of your voice. “It’s going to be alright, we’ve talked about all of this, the two of us are here, and very soon our little girl will be here soon, remember why you’re doing this Y/N.”

“Pushing feels so real,” you slightly chuckled, feeling the beat of your heart quicken in your chest, “are you sure it’s really time to push?”

“Absolutely,” a cheery Jisoo smiled from the foot of the bed, repositioning your legs slightly so that you were a little more stretched out. “When the next contraction comes, I want you to take a big deep breath, and then lots of little pushes, let your body guide you rather than you guide your body. Listen to my voice, and most of all, listen to Jungkook too, he sounds like he has all the right things to say to you.”

“That’s exactly how we got into this position,” you sighed, shooting a glare in his direction.

“Unfortunately, it’s exactly how you’re going to get out of this position too,” Jisoo grinned, shaking her head as Jungkook leaned forwards to try and give her a high five. “Just support your wife,” she smiled, “I’ve spent less then a day with this guy and I’m struggling to see how you’ve managed to put up with him for so many years.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you called out, just as another contraction came. The mutters of ‘push,’ that came from both of the people beside you instantly set your body in motion, clutching tightly onto the rail, and Jungkook’s hand as you tried to push down as best as you could, grimacing at the pain.

By the time the contraction had passed, you could feel how quickly your bottom lip was beginning to swell, pouting across at Jungkook, who was unable to hide his surprise when he noticed how red your lip was.

“Still beautiful,” he complimented, leaning forwards once again to press a kiss against the reddened skin, “and so strong too. Who knew I managed to marry such a strong woman?” He questioned, receiving no answer from either of you. It came as little surprise to him, instead he grabbed the towel that was beside him and dabbed it gently over your forehead, and your lip too, trying to make the swelling as minimal as possible before you bit down again.

As another contraction soon came around, you couldn’t quite get your head around at how surreal it was suddenly all becoming. You’d sat with your little girl nested in your tummy for two days short of nine months, and now you could slowly feel her making her way down to enter the world. All of the fears and the doubts that you’d had about labour had been torn apart, your dreams had been blown so far out of proportion, no part of what you were doing felt real anymore. But for the two of you, it felt like the best, and worst, experience in the world, the pain had been hard, but slowly it was beginning to feel as if it was worth it for you both.

When the next contraction came around, the sound of Jisoo’s voice stopped you from biting down on your bottom lip, feeling her hand move a little further up your leg, carefully pushing your legs a little further apart, surprising even you by how flexible you suddenly were.

“I can feel something,” you nervously whispered, looking across to Jungkook who was trying to get the best look he could at what was going on from beside you.

“No need to worry,” Jisoo instantly replied to you, “but I can definitely see the first signs of your little girl.”

“Really?” You chuckled, feeling Jungkook’s head turn to look back across at you. His eyes looked at you for permission, as your head slowly nodded, encouraging him to stand up from his seat and walk across, peering over your leg to where the first sightings of your little one’s head could be seen. A quiet gasp came from Jungkook, squeezing gently against your hand, feeling his eyes watering at the sight before him.

“She already looks beautiful,” he whispered up to you, “I can’t believe she’s all ours Y/N.”

“I wish I could see,” you chuckled, trying your hardest to look past your bump, but failing with ease. You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering all the times you’d failed to see your feet, or bend down to change your shoes, only now, at the most important time, your bump had stopped you from getting your first glimpse of your little girl. A small part of you couldn’t help but be slightly envious that Jungkook had such a clear view from beside you of everything that was going on.

However, as soon as your next contraction hit, Jungkook’s attentions were turned straight back to you, sitting back down in a heartbeat as more encouraging whispers came from him. He’d never told you how proud and how in love he was with you than he had done today, but he also knew he could never love you more than the moment you brought his child into the world.

The late nights, early mornings, and everything that came in between during your pregnancy had been hard on you both, but everything that you needed from Jungkook, he did with a smile. He could never appreciate enough how incredible your body was to carry his little girl, to nurture her so perfectly and give her such good health. There was simply never going to be enough that he could do to repay you for everything that you’d given him over the last nine months, and for the rest of his life too.

“Y/N, keep pushing!” Jisoo’s voice called out, snapping you out of the small daydream that you found yourself in. By the sound of her voice, you knew that something significant was happening, with adrenaline the only thing keeping you going, you did as she said, pushing as hard as you could, paying close attention to the sound of Jungkook’s voice, the only thing that had kept you going through out.

“She’s coming,” he whispered, flickering his eyes between you and your baby, noticing how quickly she seemed to be arriving. Your head nodded, repeating his words over and over again in your head, the only boost of motivation that you needed to dig in to somewhere you didn’t know you had, using up every last ounce of energy that you possibly could.

“Kook,” you whimpered, as you felt the contraction begin to collapse again.

“Just one more,” Jisoo then called out.

“You can do it,” he urged, leaning closer in towards you.

Although your head shook, your body still pushed, and soon the cries of your little girl could be heard ringing throughout the room, as tears fell from both yours and Jungkook’s eyes, feeling his hand slip out of yours so that you could collapse down against the bed.

“I love you, you’re incredible,” he chimed, giving you a moment before leaning over you, brushing the hair out of your face, coupled with a lingering kiss against your forehead, ignoring the droplets of tears that fell from his cheeks against your own. “She’s here Y/N.”

In just a matter of moments, Jungkook moves away from your side, replaced with your little girl settling against your bare chest, with Jisoo dabbing away at her to remove the markings of blood, stretching out of her limbs and making sure to clear out her airways.

As your eyes looked down at her for the very first time, your breath was taken by what was before you. “Wow,” was all you could whisper as you studied every fine detail of the bundle you held tightly against your chest. “Look at you,” you soon added, sniffling back the tears that fell.

Jungkook’s hand reached across, wiping underneath your eyes, perching himself on the end of his bed. He used the tip of his thumb to trace over the top of her head, feeling along her arms, staring in awe of how tiny each digit of her hand was. Neither of you could look away from her, all expectation you had had been succeeded, unable to comprehend what you had just endured.

“Our little girl,” Jungkook whispered, leaving a kiss against the top of your head with his words. It had been the saying you’d had for her since the moment you found out it was a girl that you were expecting, and yet somehow neither of you could correlate that the little girl you’d wished for was finally in front of you both.

“Congratulations,” Jisoo spoke after a few moments, scribbling down on some papers attached to her clipboard. “I’ll give you both a second to adjust, you’re new parents after all.”

“We’re parents,” Jungkook muttered in a moment of disbelief, continuing to stare wide-eyed at your daughter, silently reiterating the promises he’d made to her most nights when he laid beside your bump, trying to help you get to sleep. Although she was still attached to you for a moment through the umbilical cord, his body was itching to get his first hold of his little girl, feel the body and the heart he was going to protect for the rest of his life. “Thank you,” he whispered across to you once he finally looked away from her, “it’s never going to be enough, but thank you for being so strong, and for being the best wife, and mum in the world.”

“How can you say that when I’ve only been a mum for five minutes?” You teased, bringing a smile to Jungkook’s face. His eyes rolled at the chuckle that followed your question, knowing if it wasn’t for your little one, he’d be attacking your side in an instant.

“I just know, call it instinct,” he assured you, “and I’m going to make sure that this little girl knows what a special mummy she’s got to. I’ll never let her take you for granted, just like I never will, ever again. I’m in your debt forever, nothing can make up for all of this.”

“You know, we can’t call her our little girl forever,” you hummed, noticing how quickly Jungkook’s eyes lit up at the mention of her name. Several had been exchanged between the two of you, and yet one always seemed to stand out to you both, almost as if it was just meant to be, her name was her destiny.

“Is it still the one that you want?” Jungkook asked, making sure you didn’t have any doubts.

“Just looking at her, she suits it,” you hummed, taking any excuse that you could to get a glance of your daughter. “Don’t you think, it’s perfect for her?”

Jungkook’s head nodded, leaning across your body to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, treating her as if she was the most delicate thing in the world. As her name fell from his lips for the very first time, Jungkook knew you were right, it was perfect for her, and the perfect name to complete your family too.

“Can you believe we have her forever?” You asked him, brushing your thumb over the top of her head, “we don’t ever have to give this one back, or keep her only for a night. We never have to let her go, she’s ours, always.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever believe that I’ve been so blessed with the two of you,” he giggled in his confession, “every day, my little girl, and my incredible wife, I will love you.”

“She’ll have you wrapped around her finger in no time, I bet,” you laughed, “if she’s anything like you, we might as well enjoy the peace and quiet for now, because she’ll be causing trouble in no time.”

“I hope she takes after you,” Jungkook acknowledged, staring back at you, “everyone will fall in love with her, just like I did with you.”

“Do you still love me after I almost broke your hand?” You teased, staring across at his still slightly reddened hand.

“Y/N, I have never loved you more than I do right now, and I’ll love you more and more every day. You’ve given me the greatest gift, love just isn’t enough.”

“We love you too,” you smiled across to him, feeling his lips peck against yours.

“I’ll never tire of hearing that.”

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