#good. you should be. this is no way to have a civil conversation and I refuse to sacrifice my own mental health to entertain you

[gay-dorito-dust]

I was wondering if I could req Headcannon's with Prince nuada dealing with his romantic feelings for a human s/o who's basically hellboys younger sister, And if possible if it's not too much would you be able to do relationship Headcannon's for this type of relationship?

He’s in denial from the very start.

Nuada hated humans with a vengeance and would not betray his own kind because he felt a slight flutter within his chest, he didn’t want to believe that he was falling for the very people that shunned his to reside within the darkness.

He felt as though it was a great disservice to his origin, his people, his home to fall for someone on the opposing side. He felt disgusted with how easily his body betrayed him when it came to you, hellboy’s human sibling.

He didn’t like Hellboy and the fact that you were human didn’t help make matters better either, and yet he couldn’t help but feel something he long thought was ripped out from his chest centuries ago. Affection, love, softer emotions that he had thought were dead but they were just heavily subdued by the anger, the need for revenge for his own kind that it drowned out any other emotion from surfacing.

Nuada made certain that the only feelings that he felt were to remind himself

Nuala, his sister, belvied that this was the change that her brother needed and would wholeheartedly encourage him to at least be civil with you, or have you strike up the conversation first. She just wanted Nuada to reach out and someday let go of the grudge he had harboured for far too long.

Nuada didn’t like this and neither did Hellboy, who was immensely protective over you and wouldn’t dare allow spearhead anywhere near you without threatening him with a good smack across the face.

This was probably the only thing they agreed on. Neither of them wanted anything to do with the other and Hellboy was more then willing to keep you as far away from the elven prince as much as he could, Nuada wasn’t at all interested or so he claimed but he would always find something deep within himself tell him to at least reach out to you.

So Nuada would find himself waiting for Hellboy to be out of sight and out of mind to allow himself to be within the same room as you.

Not by his own accord, he would claim. He would try to convince himself that the reason you were to do something stupid as per your human nature, should you be left alone to your own devices with no supervision whatsoever.

Nuala didn’t believe this lie, their bond told her more than enough as she finds herself smiling when she felt her brother feeling emotions of love, affection and admiration and overprotectiveness. She knew that Nuada felt more deeply and more then anyone else she knew and his emotions towards you were all the more evidence of that whenever you were both sharing the room.

Nuala could feel the soft blossoming of love within her brother, seen the way that he would try to act hostile and passive aggressive with you whenever you tried to engage in conversation, she could also feel the underlying regret that he would have when he successfully pushed you away.

Her brother was conflicted and she could only hope that one day, and when Hellboy wasn’t so hostile, you and Nuada will build and embrace a beautiful relationship to be treasured and remembered fondly.

Now let’s get to how your relationship with nuada would be like after he quits his ‘I hate humans’ phase;

Nuada is an immensely protective lover.

There’s not a mission where you go on where you weren’t without Nuada being your protective shadow who acted with instinct and fast reflexes that could take down the hardest of opponents as though they were nothing.

To Nuada, was technically the truth. He was a warrior through and through other then being a prince on top of that.

Hellboy still had his concerns when it came to you dating Nuada, he believed that Nuada was still up to his old ways but he was only just your overprotective brother trying to keep you safe and out of as much danger as he could.

Liz had to tell him to let you live your own life and if you see yourself living that life with Nuada then who were they to deny you of happiness. Thankfully Hellboy listened to her, probably more than he ever listens to you at least, but you thanked her for getting him off of yours and Nuada’s arse for the time being.

He’s doting and romantic to say the least as Nuada treated you better than most people that you could’ve dated.

He would kiss the back of your hand, keep it pressed against his chest when you both slept or when you needed a reminder that his heart was yours and yours alone or even for simplistic comfort to ease your overworking/ over worrying mind.

He was your rock, someone whom you could lean on and be reassured that everything was okay as he kept you close and tell you tales of his home and family with a fondness within his voice that you couldn’t get enough of.

Nuada would even listen to you speak about your childhood with Hellboy, remembering the day your father brought him home and how you quickly accepted him as you brother, your blood and how you would do everything in your power to remind him when he felt as though he wasn’t actually family.

Nuada found this determination of yours admirable as he gently covered your face in quick kisses that left you laughing and smiling within his arms as he held you close to his chest, happy to feel something this beautiful and deep with you after everything he had done.

The relationship you both had was built on trust, respect for the other and your unique traits.

It was a relationship where you both listen to each other deeply, so deeply with the intent of wanting to know the other deeper than anyone else.

It’s a relationship where you’d heal each others wounds and just hold each other tightly as you let the day pass both of you by as you listen to him read or you just enjoy the comforts of having the other so close by.

Nuada found himself more at peace with you and less prone to rising to violence and or snapping out of impatience. He found himself thinking more with a clearer head and a heart full of all the things he wishes to do with you one day.

The mere sound of your name, or hearing your laughter was more then enough for Nuada but if he was home after a long mission then eh would want to indulge himself in you as soon as he comes back to the compound, eager to rest within your arms despite his own minor injuries.

[buysomecheese]

Responding to conservatives/transphobes online like "best friend you are making minimal sense and I cannot believe that you actually understand the argument you are trying to make. Please respond with some articles or books, as I am willing to have this conversation with you but I will not have a conversation with someone who won't attempt to make space and listen to someone else's points as they (me) would listen to you. Your grammar is incomprehensible and I see the college degree you keep posting about, please come back when you're in a better headspace so we can have a conversation. I suggest you try journaling in a physical notebook or talking to an objective third-party, as I'm sure you make valid points but again the way you are saying them is highly contradictory and I don't think you fully understand your stance. I can also come back with some scientific support for my side, and I will trust you'll read them with an open mind as I'll read yours. If you would like me to find support in the Bible I can do that as well; just know that I will be quoting whatever is the most accurate translation, not what any specific church uses. Please also understand that I was not raised Christian and many people are like me; we cannot be expected to understand these values and teachings to the same extent and with the same personal connection that you do. Just as you aren't expected to understand transgenderism with the same deeper level of understanding and personal connection! But I think we should both go our separate ways for a little while- I'm going to go for a walk, personally- and then we can come back later when we're in a better state of mind to have a conversation with a viable solution and when we have well-researched sources to back our points. This is a great conversation to be having; I just won't be having it with someone who doesn't understand what they're trying to tell me, or someone who doesn't want to listen to my side of the story the same way I'll listen to theirs."

[melanchol1cs]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[moyazaika]

omg doe brought up this AMAZINGGG idea abt the crime lord yan and his lawyer darling hello hey hi!!!!!!

this kinda got away from me because it is 3am but i nEEEEEDED to get this out bjsjsjjs i blame @carnivorousyandeere

i know i wrote the initial dynamic for his darling to be his lawyer, in that they’re on his side in court to keep him from getting sent to prison BUT BUT BUT hear me out T_T

lawyer darling who put yan kingpin away.

as in ,, you are the reason he was found guilty. you are the one, when the judge announced the final verdict, that his gaze turned to and that he smiled for, then. sentenced to death, before it was appealed to multiple life sentences; the beginning of the end of his empire.

you, you, you — the cause of his downfall.

after the infamous internationally documented case, your career soars to unprecedented heights. you’re the lawyer on every newspaper in every country, all the tv channels and glossy magazines. every law school wants you to speak at their graduation ceremonies. every firm’s reaching out to you. the whole world knows your name; you have everything!

—so why do you keep going back to the man who now has nothing?

the kingpin looks the same as he did that fateful day in court. only now, there’s bags under his eyes, and a five o clock shadow on his jaw; lips still curled in an easygoing smile. he laughs when he sees you, as if the two of you were merely old friends who hadn’t caught up in a while.

as if you’re not visiting him years later in the city’s most high security prison.

he grins. “come to gloat, have ‘ya?”

“you’ve committed countless crimes.” you state. “stolen lives and livelihoods. broken up families. killed good men. and still, all these years later, no remorse?”

“don’t get ‘yer panties in a twist,” he huffs, lazily leans back in the rickety prison chair so that he’s swinging it back and forth on its back legs, like a child. how absurd that even the garish orange uniform of a prison should suit him, “comes with the job description, don’t it?”

“i think about you,” you admit, eyeing the chains that bind his handcuffed hands to the desk in front of him. you look up, meet his gaze through the thick, dirty pane that separates you from him. keeps you safe. out of his reach, if only just.

a low whistle. “you sure know how to make a man feel special, y’know. been followin’ your cases. never put another one like me away, did ‘ya?” he grins. “i like that i’m special. makes me feel all warm ‘nd fuzzy inside.”

“wow,” you let out. “you really have gone insane.”

“always been a ‘lil crazy! like i said, part of the job description. though i’ve been thinkin’ recently,” he starts.

your fascination prompts you to lean closer. a sort of morbid curiosity that yearns to solve the puzzle of his twisted mind, slot the pieces you’ve already got in a way that makes them fit. you’ve got this weird feeling that you’re missing something. a big piece, maybe. one of the central ones.

“thinking about what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost conspiratorial. he leans in, too, all wide eyes—

—and then he jerks forward with the chains around the cuffs on his wrists pulled taut as he suddenly yanks them all the way, like a feral dog pulling on its leash. he looks like one, too, with that glint in his eyes.

“fuck!”

you barely even register that you’re on the floor until he laughs, low in his throat. he makes a vague gesture to your chair, toppled over on its side.

“oops.” he says, coyly. “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”

“liar,” you hiss, standing up to dust yourself off. this was stupid. why would you even entertain the idea of a civil conversation with a madman?

he gasps dramatically. “this is slander, your honour!”

“i’m leaving,” you scoff. “i don’t even know why i even came down here. you’re clearly fucking crazy.”

“and you’re no fun!” he pouts. “how ‘bout you stay just a little longer and i’ll make it worth ‘yer time, pretty please?”

“no can do,” you turn on your heels and reach for the door, fingers curled around the handle as you spare him one final glance over your shoulder— “have fun rotting in here for the rest of your life, psycho.”

—except the door won’t open. you try again, and again once more. the handle won’t budge. an awful sense of urgency overcomes you as you desperately shake the handle in a futile attempt to get it to just—

“funny ‘yer calling me crazy, ‘cus einstein once said real insanity is doin’ the same thing,” he beams. “over and over and over and over again, and expecting different results. door’s locked, lovely. ‘yer not getting out from there, ‘m afraid.”

you turn back then, still holding onto that door like a lifeline. he’s standing up, rubbing sore wrists that are, you realise with a sinking feeling, no longer bound by the handcuffs that kept him chained; on a short leash, like a good dog.

“what are you doing…?” your voice shakes, and it’s a far cry to the headstrong, unwavering lawyer who put the world’s most notorious criminal behind bars. “what the fuck—”

“i told you i’d make it worth your while t’stay,” he rolls up his sleeves, before pushing all of his hair (longer and greasier than the last you saw him) out of his face, features set in a determination you’ve never glimpsed before. familiar eyes twinkle with mischief. “and i meant it, y’know. the world’s very best lawyer came so far to see me! least i can do is greet ‘em properly.”

“‘cus see, the other prisoners wouldn’t be so nice. but i’ve been thinkin’ about you too.” he pulls his arm back and his fist comes flying at the pane. “don’t wanna have a conversation or nothin’ like that, nah, we talked enough.”

“you’ve been thinking about me, i’ve been waiting around for you…” bloody knuckles against cracks in the one barrier that is keeping you safe from him. you watch, helpless, as it threatens to break beneath the brute force of his trained fists.

“now let me just come over there,” he pulls his arm back again, ready to strike; knuckles raw and red, like the maniacal grin carved onto his pretty, flushed face. a deep blush and a shaky smile as those fists bring it all crashing down. “and show you how much i missed my faaavourite lawyer in the whole wide world.”

“—that be a good enough reason to stick around?” he asks slyly, before catching himself. “oh, silly me.” he shakes his head, apologetically, as he steps over broken shards on the floor, tainted with his blood. “doesn’t matter what ‘ya say.” a low hum when scarred hands reach out for you. “i waited so long for you…”

“… so, let’s make up reaaalllll good for all that lost time, okay?”

[dior-desire]

johnny cade crushing on a popular soc hcs

“ she smiled and looked at me, i was surprised to see, that a woman like that was really into me. ”

───── ˚ ୨୧ ⋆  ─────

— the two of you met in class, although he never talked unless the teacher called on him—you thought he was the cutest thing

— being a soc, you would never get the chance to actually have a civil conversation with him without being judged, so you just ended up pushing all those thoughts to the side

— that was until one day, the teacher had asked if you could come back during your lunch hr so that she could ask you something

— once the bell rung and it was time for lunch and you made your way to her class. walking into her class you made eye contact with the one and only johnny cade

— “ i’m glad you here ( your name ), i wanted to ask if you could help johnny here study for the upcoming exam? ”

— johnny cringed and looked away in embarrasment, “ of course ms. jones, when should i start? ”

— that day johnny had came over your house and the two of you only got closer there on

— johnny noticed how you werent like the other socs, you never made fun of someone because of their social class and had a good image amongst both socs and greasers

— the only person who knew that you and johnny had been talking was ponyboy, johnny would reguarly vent to him on how he wanted so badly to confess but he wouldnt want to tarnish your reputation

— as johnny and you spent more time studying together at your house, the tension between you two grew. one day, while going over notes for the upcoming exam, johnny couldn't contain his feelings any longer. he looked into your eyes and confessed how he felt, his voice trembled a bit from nervousness. It was a sweet moment that made your heart skip a beat

— after the confession, you both couldn't help but smile and laugh, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. from that day on, your study sessions turned into moments of shared affection and stolen glances. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship

— once you and johnny got together, ponyboy was so proud that it ended up slipping out to sodapop, and of course it wouldnt take long for the whole gang to find out

— they all bombarded johnny with questions,

“ whered yall meet? ”,

“ you’ve been to her house?! ”

“ have yall done anything yet?? ”,

“ she got a sister?? ”

— everybody was happy for johnny, while dallas on the other hand was a little upset on why he was just finding out johnny had a gf

— soon enough you end up meeting the gang and of course everybody loves you but once again dallas is still iffy

— he wouldn’t want some soc girl to break johnnys heart so he still had his guard up around you

— once dallas got to know you better he seen that your intentions with johnny were pure and even looked at you like a little sister, not by any means would he ever admit it though

───── ˚ ୨୧ ⋆  ─────

[boowritess]

i love love love the headcanon of the 141 not having kids and babies and ewey.

i think that john price is still very relevant to that. kinda. i don't really seeing him having a pet honestly. unless you wanted one... sure... but nah y'know... he's old tired af. maybe a cat. probably definitely a cat.

but it's been you and john for as long as you can remember.

happy to be in each other's presence from morning to night, or simply just exist in a shared life that means you two don't have to always be around each other.

you could be shopping and he could be sleeping. he's outside tending to the stuff he had supposed to finish before he left deployment while you're reading on the couch inside. he's on a long deployment again, and you're at work.

plus the prospect of kids just never seemed to work into the schedule. "nah," john says to one of your friends, "can handle kids fine, but when i'm home, this old mans bones are good for sleep and not much else. i mean the breeding kink can get me goi-" john grunts when you elbow into his side.

"crude." you huff with an eyeroll.

"but true." he says into his beer as he takes a sip, eyes sparking with mischief.

your friend turns to you. "but doesn't it get lonely?" they asks. "wouldn't you want a little one running around?"

and well sometimes the days may be lonely for you when he's gone...

but that's become impossibly hard to focus on when your phone is being constantly blown up - not by price though. by the 141.

it's never really anything outrages or civil conversation. it's gaz asking which tie he should wear at an event because price said the black one but gaz doesn't really like the black one. then it's johnny sending you a video of him besting his previous time on a training course. though it doesn't stop there. ghost is messaging late nights for him but mid-day for you, asking about how to deal with insomnia. ghost is asking you because he knows you're awake and the others are asleep, he doesn't want to bother them.

you answer every single one, with so much care and attentiveness. you save every picture, every video and boost about their achievements to other people as if they were your own. however, people always assume you're talking about little kids not grown ass men.

yet on days when you're at home or you've come home from work. you're hardly surprised to find one of them had invited themselves into yours and johns home as if it was their own.

sometimes it's gaz crashed out on the couch who's in a desperate need of a shower but definitely needs sleep more.

or the sounds of soap in your fridge, raking around to find something to eat. "lass, ye out of cheese-" he ate the cheese. the whole newly bought block of it.

gaz and soap like to hover around you when they're home. whereas ghost helps price around the house.

but when it's just you and ghost, the oldest boy. it's quiet. there's no forced conversations but probably a few shitty jokes. it's you or him making food and the other doing the dishes. yet ghost opens up and the conversations turn into some of the most randomist, boyish, silly conversations.

when everyone's at home, it can actually be pretty hectic. so you go do the grocery shopping, but you take ghost along cause he's a little like you in regard for a need of quiet time.

oh and can't forget the days you go out by yourself only to come home with a few other things. socks for john - socks for all of them. you bought johnny a new pair of jeans and gaz a couple of shirts. and simon some more sweaters.

christmas, easter, new years - every single holiday is always hosted at yours and price. where everyone comes. farah, alex, laswell and her wife. rudy and alejandro making their way- then of course your boys...

and it's there where you've kinda realized.

you and john do have kids.

just in the form of grown men.

which both you and john don't seem to mind.

you end up shrugging your shoulders as you look at your friend, "honestly i have my hands full when they're all home. so... i'm good." you say with a hum, sipping from your own drink with a small smile as john just chuckles softly.

a/n: realized I never posted this. oh well. the no baby saga continues with john price. drink water be well ya'll xx

[cum-aside]

Ok it’s not like I go here really, but I’ve been reading a bunch of DPxDC recently because it’s very good, and I had an idea that won’t go anywhere

The various gangs in Gotham have callsigns/uniforms or something right??? If not, they should, and imma say they do. Anyway. Redhood I think didn’t think too hard about what people in his gang on his turf should wear for identification purposes, but they sure did. And what they came up with was Red.

Wearing red in the vicinity of the ‘Bad Part’ of Gotham?? Part of the red hood gang. Generally head gear is the preferred method of wearing red. Red hats and beanies, red head scarfs and hijabs, red headbands, red masks. The idea has been communicated. To a certain point, wearing red even if you aren’t officially part of the gang is a great way to get an in with them, or be under protection if you’re the right age in the right area, as long as you’re willing to risk getting roped into low stakes gang activity, which can range from working the counter at money laundering sites to community service (guarding clinics and shelters and volunteering) to making deliveries to destroying certain hostile architecture. (Hood saves the real jobs with cops and shootings and turf disputes for actual members, that he knows the names faces and skills of, and who are at least above 18, but preferably over 20, and who wear real gear he supplies them with, not just whatever’s in their closet that’s red) (this does not entirely stop the smaller ‘members’ from getting into their own fights with the cops and turf wars, but Jason has found that giving them Something to do that feels like direct action helps curb those tendencies. And it’s not like those things aren’t things that don’t need doing, so it’s a win win. Mostly)

Danny, bless him, does not know any of this. But has been staying in the sketchier areas of Gotham because that’s where people don’t care how old you are or if your papers are real or not, and he absolutely does not want people looking into how old he is and wether his papers are real or not. He is also wearing an inadvisable and vaguely conspicuous amount of red. His converse are red, his signature baseball tee is white and red, and his hoodie is also red.

Clearly, this kid (he’s like 17) really wants in with the hood gang.

And eventually, they oblige him.

Random people will approach Danny and ask/tell him that them and a couple others are going somewhere to do (insert vaguely/definitely illegal job or act of community service here) and Danny, who is deeply directionless in life currently, and also pretty assured in his ability to eat danger for breakfast, and has never met an institutional authority he doesn’t disrespect at least a little bit, is totally down for some civil disobedience and chaotic good shenanigans.

And then it spirals from there. Like. A worrying amount.

It takes Danny actual months, almost a year, to realize that he’s been low key slow cooked into the criminal underbelly of Gotham, and like… he’s not really mad about it?? Honestly if he had a choice when he came to Gotham, he probably would have picked the redhood gang anyway. He just seems to vibe with them on a… Spiritual Level…

Hm

Anyway

Years go by, and while Danny doesn’t have the most going for him in terms of a normal person life, vis a vis higher education, official employment, health insurance, dating life, or any other benchmark one uses to measure the trajectory of their lives— Danny’s feeling pretty good! Jazz, Tucker, and Sam have all finagled their ways into Gotham, (Tucker has a WE internship, Jazz is working/doing work studies at Arkham, Sam does what she likes now that she is a legal adult and has her inheritance, and what she likes is environmental activism, and occasionally being spotted with fellow activist Damian Wayne, and someone who may or may not be poison ivy, sources differ) and Danny finds his obsession suspiciously well served as a hood goon. Hood hench? Redgoon? Hench hood?? Name pending, who cares.

Danny is also suspiciously good at, well, his job. One of the best runners, even when he gets caught and frisked they never seem to find the goods on him (they never do check IN him, but then why would they) very well liked at every volunteer spot they have, patient, kind, funny, good with old people, kids, bitter people, addicts and the homeless, the sick and injured. And yet also very competent in the field, when they finally let him do actually dangerous things. Act as protection detail to the working girls in the red light district, he’s very respectful, and very good at intimidation, de-escalation, and when push comes to shove, excellent in a fight. Knows when to keep pressing his advantage and when to make a retreat with whoever he’s guarding. Not afraid to fight scrappy, and presses through pain and fear like a true gothmite.

He gets so good at his not really a job job that he becomes essentially, Redhoods right hand man.

The rest of the bats are skeptical of this for several reasons. Because generally speaking, the people in Jason’s turf are not fans of the bats, but Jason does a lot of coordinating with them, and someone so close to him is going to pick that up eventually if they’re half as sharp and useful as Danny is. Other than that, secret identity issues, plus pit rage, plus the fact that Jason trusts pretty much nobody. But Jason has great feelings about this guy, he always feels more clear headed and even keeled when he’s around, and he helps Jason remember the community he’s trying to build, and the community he serves. Also he delegates and mother hens like nobody’s business, but Jason just really can’t seem to work up too much irritation about it.

It is around this time, however, that the past, and shady government organizations come knocking.

Perhaps the GIW has also noticed how ecto-contaminated and lawless Gotham is and decided that they could start doing research and experiments with its live and undead denizens instead of amity, where the portal has closed, and ghost activity is down since phantom disappeared. Or maybe the GIW has finally located phantom specifically and is interested in what they’re always interested in. Or maybe it’s various ghosts harassing Danny to take up the throne, which he’s been avoiding successfully, but having settled into a life routine that suites him his core has finally ‘settled’ (halfa cores fluctuate more than other cores due to the transient nature of being alive, but halfa people settle into lifelong patterns and relationships quicker than other people because of the static nature of being dead) he is mature enough by ghost standards to assume the throne, or at least begin preparing for it.

Regardless, danny is being tracked down for his childhood baggage’s extended warranty, and brings the entirety of the JL and almost all associated sidekicks, hero group spin-offs, and organizations into the thick of it.

Idk. I just got through Secretary Danny by DeathlySilent13 on ao3 and I thought man oh man wouldn’t it be neat if Danny got to be Jason’s second in command instead??? That could open up a lot of avenues I haven’t seen yet. I’m also just very curious about how the Jason’s runs his gang according to the fandom, and I think that with all the ACAB energy Danny has been assigned, he should have a little bit of community focused organized crime. As a treat. Like I said I don’t go here thou, I just needed to put this somewhere and see if it vibed with anybody besides me

[waywardsou2]

FatherFigure!Logan X Latebloomer!AdoptedMaleReader

I was not expecting this to end up being this long...but I guess it is. I'm really happy with how this turned out. I won't spoil it. But this reader's mutation is my favourite in any universe.

Summary: You were adopted by Logan on one of his errands out of the school. Charles has deduced that you were a mutant but your mutation has not presented itself yet. One day it does, and it's not pretty.

Tags: blood, slight gore, warning for graphic imagery, hurt/comfort, father Logan, mentions of Charles and Jean

Word Count: 1.4k

Logan was sitting in Charles' office. It had been a few weeks since he had decided to stay at the school permanently and had taken up the job offer as a history teacher.

To be fair he had been alive since before the civil war so there wasn't anyone more perfect for their job. Especially now that he was able to get a lot of his memories back.

Charles has become like somewhat of a father figure to Logan, if not a good friend and confidante at the very least.

Logan had not only chosen to stay so the he could have a free room and a purpose in life but also because of you.

He had found you on a missions, picked you up and taken you back to the school. Charles had let Logan know when he was in the area that there was a mutant who hadn't presented yet.

It was safest for you here. Just because there was no way to actually tell when or what your mutation might manifest into.

But as Logan and Charles talked Charles fell silent in the middle of their conversation. Logan's eyebrows twitched in question as Charles eyes went glassy before coming back to focus on Logan. A new found worry in his eyes.

"Charles?"

"His mutation has finally manifested...Logan go"

Logan didn't have to be told twice. He knew at some point your mutation would manifest but it was hard to say when. You were well past the age of your mutation manifesting physically but there's a late bloomer in every species.

Logan pushed his chair back, it squeaking across the floor as it scrapes along the wood. He dashes down the corridors, dodging kids left and right as he makes his way to your room.

As soon as he turns down the corridor your room is in he hears it.

A piercing scream that hurts his amplified senses. A sound makes his heart ache.

He gets to the door of your room and pushes it open.

He finds you on the floor, curled in on yourself. Your shirt ripped in the back and a spattering of blood on your shirt and the floor.

You look up to see Logan. Thank fuck he's here. Before you could say anything, you open your mouth and a scream replaces your words. A sharp throb of pain spreading across your back and into your spine once more.

Logan bends down in front of you and tries to sit you up but you stay tucked into yourself.

He checks you over, as much as he can without moving you but he doesn't need to look too hard. Now that he's closer, kneeling in front of you he can see what's happening.

Sticking out of the holes in your ripped shirt are two bones, partially covered in skin and what looks to be...no way are those feathers?

Are you growing wings?

He hadn't heard of a mutation like this before. One the alters bone structure and genetic make up well into adolescent development. He would have to get Jean to check you over but right now he knew you couldn't move.

He could see the bone moving, growing at an accelerated rate that should have taken a years naturally. The skin and feathers began growing over the bone as more and more of it began to grow and stick out of your skin. The flesh around it was torn and you were bleeding profusely. He was worried about the blood loss but there was no way to staunch the blood without interfering with your growing. He might make it worse if he tampered with it.

So instead he sat there with you. He pulled you over to him so you could still stay doubled over, but your head was resting on his lap as he curled his legs underneath himself. He kept his hand in your hair, stroking it and whispering comfort to you.

He was hard to hear over your crying and occasional cries of pain but his presence was enough. It meant everything to you.

But that feeling was too mingled with fear and pain and you couldn't fully process anything. You just let the tears fall down your face as you tried to stifle your screams. Biting down on your own lip until it bled so that you didn't frighten any of the other children.

Logan watched as the bones continued to grow from your back. Sticking out further and further until a second bond joined the first one creating the rest of the wingspan as more feathers, longer and stronger began sprouting from further down the wing.

It was a few hours before the mutation had fully manifested. You had long since stopped crying the tears staining your face. You lay breathing heavily with your head still in Logan's lap.

He hadn't left your side the entire time. You sniffed and tried to keep your breathing even but even though the pain was gone the panic was not going anywhere.

When Logan was sure it was all over he helped you sit up. Making sure you didn't sit on your new wings and didn't aggravate the injury.

"Can you stand? We need to get you to Jean."

You nodded. Your back felt strange. There was a new weight. A new neurological connection to a set of muscles that hadn't existed before. You could feel the wings, you were in tune to them. Having them felt as natural as having two arms. But moving them hurts. So you let them drag on the ground behind you, rather than holding them up.

Logan took your hand and helped you walk to Jeans lab. You felt dizzy, all the blood loss has made you woozy.

Your bedroom floor and Logan's jeans were stained with it. There was so much.

Logan looked at your wings as he walked beside you. They were a deep green. Something like the leaves of the forest he used to live in during the spring. It was a beautiful colour. It matched your eyes and your hair.

He felt your pain. Knowing what it was like to have your body rip itself open for a "gift" you didn't want.

He was going to be there for you every step of the way whilst you figured this out. He made a promise to take care of you and he was going to keep it. Even if that mean struggling through your manifestation.

The two of you got to Jeans lab and she had you lay face down on her table. She poked at your wings trying to move your ripped shirt and new wings aside so she could assess the damage. It hurt. Any movement hurt but if she didn't clean the wound it would hurt a lot more later on.

She has to cut you out of your shirt because the blood had dried into a sticky brown colour and she couldn't risk getting cotton in the gashes.

She explained to you what she had to do and you nodded accepting what was necessary.

Logan crouched down in front of you and you looked at him from the bench. Forcing out a smile before Jean got to work. You shoved your face down into the table hiding the expression of pain you could feel twisted into your features. You didn't want Logan to see that. But he grabbed your hand and held onto it. You squeezed it each time pain ebbed over your skin. And he squeezed back, letting you know he was still here.

After what felt like too long Jean announced she was done. She had to stitch up a gap that was unnecessary to your wings range of movement. The extra flesh that had been torn from the growth.

She informed you that you would have to come see her again the next day and that you would have to be careful how you slept and moved until everything had fully healed and your body had adjusted.

After that Logan leads you back up to your room and helps you into bed. You don't bother to get changed. You doubt that you would fit into any of your shirts now anyway. You crawled into bed and tried to find a comfortable position but it was hard. You didn't have enough room anymore.

You reached a hand out from your place on your bed. Feeling with your hand you try to find Logan in the darkness of your room. He takes your hand and with the little strength you have you try to pull him towards you.

He gets the message and sits down in your bed. Kicking off his boots and pulling you back to lay on his legs and chest. Acting as a full body pillow for you. Within moments the exhaustion of the day caught up with you and you were out like a light.

I'm so glad I could write this. Staying up till 2am was totally worth it gets this done. I'm so proud of it! If you like this then please consider sending in a request of your own. I would be happy to take them in

[diamonddaze01]

tarararara my love! for your drabble game i wanna do prompt no. 6 but with a twist-

Do you like me? Check yes or yes

the ball is in your court now bub!

do you like me?

pairing: wonwoo x reader, law school au | wc: 944 prompt: "Do you like me? check yes or yes" | warnings: none a/n: dedicated to both @svtiddiess and @tusswrites bc the greatest minds think alike

The library was quieter than usual, the usual hum of stressed-out law students replaced by the rhythmic scratching of pens and flipping of pages. You and Jeon Wonwoo had somehow claimed a table near the window—a rare truce in the ongoing cold war of your academic rivalry.

You weren’t entirely sure how it started. Maybe it was the time he answered a question in Contracts class before you could, perfectly articulating the rule of consideration in a way that had the professor beaming. Or maybe it was the time you aced your Civil Procedure exam, and he shot you that unreadable glance as he exited the lecture hall, his graded paper tucked discreetly under his arm. Somewhere along the line, though, it became a thing: Jeon Wonwoo vs. You.

You were loud, unabashed, and utterly relentless in debates. Wonwoo? Quiet, methodical, and terrifyingly sharp. It was as though the universe had handpicked you to be polar opposites, with one mutual goal: finishing top of the class.

It wasn’t just about ego—though you’d never admit how much satisfaction you felt when you won. For you, being at the top meant proving that your voice mattered, that you could command a room even in the cutthroat world of law. For him, you suspected it was different. Wonwoo worked with a quiet precision that seemed to come from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. He was impossible to read, and maybe that’s what frustrated you the most.

The rivalry only grew fiercer with time: whispered debates in the hallway after class, stolen glances at each other’s grades, the occasional sarcastic jab when you passed in the library. It had become a fixture of your law school experience.

So why were you here, sitting across from him in the library? That was another story.

It started two weeks ago, when the Professor of Legal Ethics—who clearly took pleasure in student suffering—had paired you two for a moot court assignment. The project was simple: argue a mock case against each other, with grades determined by individual performance.

You’d scoffed at the announcement. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He’d glanced at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “Don’t sound too excited.”

The idea of working with him—of watching him meticulously dismantle your arguments before you even had a chance to deliver them—should have been unbearable. But instead, you’d found yourself suggesting, “We should prep together. You know, scope out the competition.”

Wonwoo had hesitated, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You’re offering to help me beat you?”

“Who said I’m helping you?” you’d shot back, grinning. “I just want to see if you’re as good as everyone says.”

Now here you were, begrudging study partners, buried under stacks of legal texts and sharing a tense but surprisingly comfortable silence. Except you couldn’t focus. Not because of the assignment—your case brief was flawless—but because of him.

Wonwoo, with his quiet determination, his maddening focus, and his infuriating ability to make your heart race with just a glance. You didn’t know when it started—when the rivalry began to feel less like competition and more like curiosity. When his sharp intelligence stopped annoying you and started fascinating you instead.

Maybe it was last week, when he had stayed late after your prep session, walking with you to the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights. The conversation had been light, easy—unexpectedly so. You’d caught him smiling, not his usual smirk but something softer, almost shy. It had lingered with you far longer than it should have.

Or maybe it was the other day, when you’d caught him lost in thought, glasses slipping down his nose as he scribbled something in the margins of his notebook. He had looked up at you then, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow in question. You had blurted something incoherent about “legal precedents” before burying your face in your notes, your cheeks burning.

You were doomed.

Tonight wasn’t any better. He was scribbling furiously in his textbook, his pen tapping softly against the edge of the page. You should have been working on your counterarguments, but instead, you were folding a piece of notebook paper into an origami crane.

After a few moments, you slid the crane across the table to him. Wonwoo didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in his notes, but when the crane nudged his hand, he paused. His sharp eyes flicked to yours, and you gave him your best innocent smile.

He carefully unfolded the crane. Inside, in your bold handwriting, were the words: “Do you like me? Check yes or yes.” Below, you’d drawn two boxes, both labeled “yes,” along with a winking face for good measure.

Wonwoo blinked at the note, his expression unreadable. But then, his ears turned a shade of red so deep you could practically hear your heart screaming.

You stared, waiting, your pulse thundering in your ears. And then, to your surprise, he smirked.

Pulling out his pen, he checked one of the boxes. Then, with deliberate care, he tore off the bottom half of the paper, scribbled something, and slid it back to you.

You unfolded it, your chest tight with anticipation. Written in his small, neat handwriting was: “Can you quiet down now? I’m trying to focus.” Below it, he’d drawn a tiny, lopsided heart.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but the pink flush creeping up his neck and the faint twitch of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

Somehow, the rivalry didn’t feel like a competition anymore.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[maxknightley]

on the one hand I do understand where people are coming from when they respond to The White American Desire For Authentic Culture by going "you already have a culture" and pointing out that this desire often has reactionary undertones

that being said, I think it's largely sidestepping the actual issue, which is that American culture fucking blows chunks. American culture is strip malls and military worship and the elevation of mass-market pablum to Bold Artistic Statements.

and subculture is only partially an escape from this, because most subcultures exist within the same constraints of American culture as a whole; they are captured and redefined by capital on such a frequent basis that it often feels impossible to hold onto them in any meaningful way.

moreover, even the parts of American culture that aren't complete garbage are more or less inextricable from the colonial, imperialist, and racially-stratified history of the country. like, I think of that post that went around a while ago talking about "America sucks but has some good parts," and one of the things it listed was national parks, and people (rightfully!) pointed out that the national park system is fundamentally flawed and tends to shit on indigenous nations by design.

the only thing I can think of that's even sort of an exception is pop culture - jazz and rock music, superhero comics, Hollywood. and all of those are, again, captured and defined by capital, and in one way or another have historically been built on screwing over the artist.

so we come to a position, one way or another, where a lot of people say something like: "I'm alienated. I'm surrounded by traditions and institutions I think are shit; I have no way to meaningfully undermine them, and I can't escape them without effectively destroying my life. the culture I was born into is a gravestone on top of another gravestone, lifeless and miserable, and people are constantly shouting that I should be grateful because it's The Greatest Country In The World."

at that point, one seeks an escape, and I think there are three major routes here.

one is to become a weird lib obsessed with the Real Soul Of America. America is really about the good parts, not the bad parts which outnumber them and which they are built upon.

another is to fixate on the Exotic, for lack of a better word. cultures which you do not have an obvious "connection" to, but which fascinate you or appeal to you. obviously this can be pretty fucking fraught, though I would argue that taking an interest in other cultures is a good thing if you aren't shitty about it. (That's its own conversation.)

the third is to fixate on the culture(s) you feel you "ought to have" had, that which was sacrificed on the altar of whiteness by grandparents or great-grandparents who, frankly, had different concerns. to look at a culture that may still be defined in many ways by cruelty and stratification - the way I would argue most human civilization has been - but that seems to have had something else going on, at least. a culture that may not have been recognizable 500 years ago, but at least it existed.

again, none of these impulses is beyond criticism, and I think it would be naive to say that the last one can't have reactionary undertones. I also doubt these impulses are unique to the USA! alienation is extremely common in today's world, and it's not as though the USA is the only settler state in existence.

what I am saying is more that I think the conditions that lead to these fixations are worth paying attention to, and that dismissing them with "you already have a culture" kind of misses the point in favor of getting in a zinger. people wouldn't want a different culture if they were happy with the one they had. like so many other things, people want one that Doesn't Completely Suck. failing that, they'd probably like to not be defined by any culture at all - but that, tragically, is just as impossible.

[satellitespinner]

Jealous ellie drabble.

i feel like ellie isn’t some big jealous alpha who takes you home and pounds you doggystyle like how a majority of tumblr writes her (no shame ab that!) but more likely a jealous gf who sits back and pouts and gives you the cold shoulder for 2 hours until she can’t ignore you anymore. she definitely needs reassurance and then feels really guilty about being jealous!!!

COOL ABOUT IT.

content warnings: swearing, jealousy, ellie’s a littleeeee toxic..

wc: 500 or soo…

you’re sat at a bar table with your girlfriend and best friends and you couldn’t be happier, but the energy was a bit off..

everyone had been happily engaged in conversation except ellie. she had been while and it was starting to worry you.

you waited for a moment for jesse and dina to start mindlessly bickering over which genre of movie they would star in and texted ellie under the table.

you: is everything okay?

ellie: yep

you: are you sure?? you’re looking pretty sad over there :((

ellie: i’m good.

read

you look up from under the table to see ellie glaring holes into dinas head. good god girl.

you smile and roll your eyes, you place a reassuring hand on her thigh and move your head onto her shoulder.

for a moment you two wait for jesse and dina to shut up but soon enough their voice levels end up a little too high for a public setting.

“okay we are still in public.. children..” you scold jokingly receiving a faint chuckle from ellie.

the pair settle down before resuming in civil conversation with you. they attempted to include ellie, who was only responding when she had to.

“what do you think ellie?” dina asks, not sensing her sour mood that was clearing directed towards her.

“i think i need to go to the bathroom.” she deadpans before sliding out of the booth and walking to the bathroom.

you sigh at her childish behavior before politely excusing yourself, coming up with the excuse of her having a shitty day.

you push the bathroom door open to reveal ellie standing against the sinks, fingers tapping away at her phone screen.

“babe.” you speak softly. trying to hide your frustration. she ignores you and continues typing.

“okay listen,” you start, not trying to argue but simply trying to set things straight.

“dina is a flirt. you know this. why you continue to get overly jealous and act like a child beats me.” you cross your arms as she finally locks her phone and looks up at you.

“i do not want dina. i want you. you’re my girlfriend, not her. im inlove with you, not her.” you reassure, your tone harsh yet comforting.

ellie chews the inside of her cheek as you lay into her, she knows that you nor dina would ever even think of being unfaithful.

she huffs as she walks over to you, wrapping herself around you.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry.” you rub ur hand up and down her back as to comfort her.

“i don’t think i could even see myself with someone else.” you whisper into her shirt.

“me neither.” you feel her release a breath of relief against your head. you wanted to stay like this forever.

you two pull back from eachother and you smile at her.

“should we make our way back to the others?” she agrees silently before pressing a soft kiss your your lips. a smile plastered on her face as she walks back to the table.

[chocochipsushi]

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh. 

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 

“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 

“Oh, you’re with her.” 

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips. 

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.” 

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 

“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

[the-midnight-blooms]

all i wanna do | jyh

pairing:  scholar!jeong yunho x wife!reader AU: arranged marriage, historical au (Joseon dynasty)   word count: 11.4k warnings: heavy angst, suicidal thoughts, mentions of suicide

masterlist

The rain thundered down from the sky on a sullen morning, the clutter of dishes and whirring of teapots stirring one awake from their slumber. At once the household was buzzing with activity, the slap of sandals against the cool marble floor as a weary middle-aged man retreated to the dining table. On one end, the seat at the top of the table reserved for him, sat his boiling cup of tea and newspaper, his wife soon trailing in after him. Afterwards was his daughter, and they all greeted each other with polite “good mornings” before settling down to eat, a comfortable silence held among them.

Mr Hwang, a renown land owner found that when he left his home, he was able to find a line of servants bowing their heads to him in respect. He was, by any means no aristocrat and did not preach claims of nobility but his knowledge of literature, politics and art had allowed him to extend his name into upper class society. He was proud to claim that his name lingered on the tongues of scholars, dukes and the general along with other important men in the militia. Such men were seen as gifted in society, how could it be that a poor man who had never had the privilege of receiving satisfactory education proved to be more astute than any scholar of Joseon. It was down to sheer luck, and god, he thought that he was able to claim a reputation such as the one he now held.

About three months ago, on a Wednesday evening, Mr Hwang kissed his wife goodbye- leaving his home to travel four miles east to the large estate on a hill that he had been invited to. Every Wednesday, scholars from nearby towns had gathered to invest in the latest literature and scribble their thoughts in the margins of transcripts that had been thrown their way. They were settled within the library- men walking up and down the aisles searching for novels of interest some men sipping on cups of tea. Around three hours in, the ripple of quiet murmuring would transcend into loud chatter. Like clockwork, on that Wednesday evening, Mr Hwang settled down his quill cracking his fingers to relax the tense fibres in his muscles. He sat opposite the esteemed Mr Jeong, a loyal civil servant to the King and a member of the Royal Council.

Despite the ongoing of chatter surrounding them, the two men worked on their studies with minimal conversation. Mr Jeong was the first to break the silence.

“How is your wife and daughter, Hwang?”

“They are in good health, sir. How is your son? How is he finding his duties as a gentry scholar?” Jeong beamed at the mention of his son’s position within the royal court.

“He is too in good health. The prince informs me that he performs his duties excellently.” Hwang nodded, sending a polite smile his way before raising the cup of tea to his lips. A comfortable silence held among them but a thought provoked at the back of Jeong’s mind. “Actually, I am looking for a bride for my son as he is now of marriageable age.”

“That you should have no problem seeking, Sir. He is an impressionable young man, is he not?” Whilst Jeong felt implied to agree with his friend, there was more to his son than meets the eye. Yet for what he wanted to confess, it was better to stay quiet and agree to Hwang.

“I think I had better be open to you, my friend. I was hoping to ask if you would so kind to extend your daughter’s hand in marriage, for my son.” Hwang, taken aback almost choked on his tea for a split second quickly placing his cup down giving his friend a wide-eyed stare. A surge of emotions overcame him. Jeong was not the type of man to joke about serious matters such as marriage.

“My daughter? Wedded to your son? With all due respec-,”

“I understand that this is no conventional way to propose but you know better that I am not a man of custom. I have met your daughter. She is patient, kind and intelligent too. It seems that you have shared the gift of knowledge with her and my son does not want a wife that he cannot converse with. He is not asking for scholar but an understanding woman as such. I believe your daughter would make the perfect wife.” Jeong reasoned. The truth being there were many intelligible women in Joseon but the problem being they were either haughty or impatient. Either too vain about their looks or just purely selfish.

“If you allow me, I must discuss these details with her mother.”

“Of course, take your time. We are in no rush.” Which wasn't by any means true, but he could not exactly tell his friend to hurry up and make an on-the-spot decision.

That same Wednesday evening, Mr Hwang rushed back to his home as fast as he could running through the double doors- panting and out of breath. Without pausing to sit to down and breathe, the words spilled out of his mouth without caution astounding his wife in the process. Breaking from her momentary paralysis, she escorted her husband to the nearest chair-summoning the closest maid for a cup of tea to be brought to the study.

"We have to say yes, you must send Jeong a formal letter of proposal." Hwang nodded eagerly. Mrs Hwang thought about her daughter and what she would think. She would say no, of course.

Mr Hwang was not as ignorant as his friend thought he was. He had his eyes and ears everywhere- he knew his son's true nature. Perhaps if he was a better father, he would have declined the offer as soon as the words left from his mouth. After all wasn't this marriage an opportunity to extend his lineage into nobility? He could be richer, more reputable, more well known. How could he decline this offer?

"Begin the preparations, but do not tell her. Not yet." Reluctantly, his wife nodded.

Miss Hwang, daughter of Mr Hwang- the noble landowner, knew something was being plotted behind her back. She spent the last three months in and out of the dressmaker's, her measurements being taken for hanbok's of every colour, in silk, satin and in every other expensive material she could think off. A plethora of jewellery and fabrics were being sent to the house and as the months went by the atmosphere of the household became much more busier and chaotic. It brought her much annoyance that she wasn't able to find out- she even tried to provoke Min Cha but the youngest maid was not prone to bribery. She stared at her father at the top of the dining table, as his eyes scoured down the page of the newspaper reading the contents of the latest news in Joseon. Clearing his throat, he meticulously folded the paper discarding it to the side before making eye contact with his daughter.

"Minister Jeong and his son, Yunho will be joining us tonight for dinner. Make sure you are here and not hiding in your room" he instructed, giving her a pointed look before lifting his tea cup. A sudden thought rushed to her head. It could only make sense that perhaps they were coming over to propose. The gifts being sent at the house, the fancier clothes she was forced to wear, the hushed whispers of the maids as she walked by and their talks of marriage and children. They never bothered before, they knew how indifferent she was towards the notion of it. It could only mean that they were coming over to propose, or maybe they already had- besides she didn’t need to say yes, herself. Her father could on her behalf and it could be perceived as her approval. That was a thought she did not want to entertain, being a woman devoid of many choices was hard enough. If she could have a chance of falling in love and being loved as deeply and constantly the way that one wanted to be loved- she would grab at it. Though grabbing at it was like reaching out for a feather, its fibrils caress her fingertips only for it to slip through her fingers.

A few hours after the breakfast table had been cleared, the bustling sound inside the house had significantly quietened, doors to the kitchen quarters had been slammed shut so no sound seeped into the rest of the home. Warmth trailed the surface of the study, perched on the windowsill, head leant against the glass pane she gazed at the town below outstretched beneath the three miles of grasslands- a small cobbly path paving the way for carriages and palanquins. A creak infiltrated the room, her head snapping the other way watching a small figure stumble into the room and an older maid following after her. Tea settled down on the table, the maid scurried to the fireplace continuing her cleaning duties whereas Min Cha sat beside her on the window sill. Her hands reached to caress the younger girls face, pulling her towards her-nuzzling her in her arms. With a comforting quietude held among them, in the far distance the swaying of carriage treaded towards their home.

"Do you think that's Mr Jeong and his son?" Miss Hwang hummed carefully, fingers stroking Min Cha's dark hair. They watched the carriage come to a sudden halt outside their home; several moments later an older man walked out. The servants ran towards him, offering their greetings. After him, a taller man appeared out of the carriage, moving eloquently across the lawn. His dark hair was strikingly shorter than most young men of the common day and age, his brown wide eyes scanning his surroundings. Their eyes locked, he tilted his head slightly as if scrutinising her. Jumping away from the windowsill, she pried Min Cha off with her scurrying away to her room- to hide- exactly like her father told her not to.

Yunho noticed her eyes first. He felt like he was staring into his own when he discerned they were that they were burdening with inquisition, the length of her lashes softening a look that could have been perceived as threatening. It was her, wasn't it? She’ll make do he thought- there had to be reason for his father’s persistency. He was perfectly satisfied with being unmarried but then again his father probably wanted a grandson to carry the lineage, the establishment of this matrimony purely founded on both his father’s and Mr Hwang’s pride. For now he needed to refrain from looking ignorant for the next few weeks. Granted, he was stuck with her for life but as long as she knew her place he’d make do with her presence. They had moved to Mr Hwang's study where they had been seated around the fireplace, the cold winter air still clung to their skin, the heat of the spitting embers easing the chill that ran down their spines. His ears became heedless to the conversation the two older men shared, moulding his face to look interested with the occasional vocalisation to please his father's friend.

"I must finally introduce you to my daughter," Hwang cheered, clasping his hands together in enjoyment. Yunho forced a smile onto his face, preparing himself to meet yet another bratty daughter of a rich man. Calling for the maid, Hwang then proposed that he made his way into the garden to share a private interaction with each other.

Miss Hwang let out a small whine, shoulders slumped with an exaggerated frown etched on her features as she ambled down the steps and moved into the front lawn. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, she straightened her posture entering the garden with a sheepish smile. He was much taller than she had anticipated in the glimpse of their eye contact, the closer she moved the more intimidated she felt by his slender, towering figure. Though his features were soft and inviting, his wide eyes particularly held such a kindness in them that she had not seen in the eyes of other men. She wanted to speak in that moment, but neither of them had any idea what to say. Instead, she decided to saunter through the garden; Yunho following her. Yunho cleared his throat, her attention drifted from the garden flowers to him-she turned around to stand in front of him his movements halting as he sent a look of confusion her way.

"Why exactly are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked. What is the purpose of your visit? What are your intentions? What do you and your father intend to gain from your being here?" He cocked his head to side, and scoffed at her questions yet the look of seriousness on her face had thrown him off. He was half expecting to start the conversation flaunting about something, talk about her riches, or maybe even throw herself at him. Not question the nature of this visit, was Mr Hwang detaining the knowledge this arrangement from his daughter? If so, why?

"You are to be my betrothed." He stated, though it came out as more of a question as her eyebrows creased in scepticism. "Which I thought you would've known as you accepted the proposal-" she ran back in the direction of the home, abandoning him by burgundy dahlias. All the pieces had fallen into place now, it was dowry that was being sent to the house, all the preparations were for her matrimony. How could she have missed all of this? Storming into the study, the door banged open the abrupt dissonance making her father jump from his seat; Jeong raising an eyebrow in inquisition.

"Father, can I talk to you?" Her voice both breathless and desperate for answers. Before he could speak, she exchanged her position with Jeong- who the nearby maid had guided into the parlour. “Why have you been hiding this proposal from me?” Silence hung among them, as she glared into his eyes.

“Do you think if many months ago I approached you with this proposal you would have said yes? You would’ve spat in my face. This is for your own benefit. Did you even talk to Yunho? What must he think of you?”

“Who cares what he thinks of me? What I care about is how you’ve tried to dictate my life for me.”

“Everything I am doing is for your own benefit” There it was. That same old phrase. The same phrase that she had heard when her father pulled her out libraries and schools, pulled away from the fields and forced her into passivity and domesticity. She had gotten gone used to it finding partial amusement in embroidering, cooking, drawing while occasionally reading the odd novel but there was no satisfaction in a life where she only existed for the sole purpose of serving a man. Her whole life she listened and obeyed, her only desire being to at least choose who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Now she couldn’t even have that- her only last grasp for autonomy was being snatched away from her.

“You will tell Mr Jeong that we cannot move forward with this marriage, or I will tell him myself." She claimed threateningly, her hands balled into fists.

"No, I will not. You will marry Yunho and that is that! Do you understand me? Your wedding is in two weeks so I suggest you start preparing for your departure."

"You planned all of this, and didn't once think to ask for my consultation?" With wide eyes in disbelief at the fact that she only had two weeks left in her childhood home before her name was tied to someone else’s.

"What does your opinion matter? I am your father, I know what's best for you." He moved closer to her, she winced as the tone of his voice rose, at this point it was better to think about what the Jeong family thought of him rather than her.

"No. You know what's best for yourself. You have always prioritised yourself over your own daughter and wife. You have never cared for me. It always what Byungchul Hwang has wanted and never-" his palm connected with her cheek, the slap sending a stinging pain through the supple flesh. His coarse grip latched onto her shoulders shaking them roughly; her body oscillating as he screamed at her many of the words sprinting through her head, the echo of his strident tone ringing in her ears, vision clouding as the line of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Something along the lines of 'ungrateful child', 'worthless', 'wretched' and any other invective he forced upon her. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. What was hearing them once more, before she succumbed to his despotism?

She could not recall how long he had endlessly been screaming at her, until her mother had stormed into the room calming her father, before sending her to her own room. The hallways of her childhood home seemed to restrict her now, the windows had been tightly sealed shut due to the wind- they seemed make the whole house feel smaller. Closed doors felt like shackles binding to her feet, restraining her. Her room was no solace, not anymore as she collapsed onto her bed a familiar numbness gnawing at her.

The two weeks had skimmed by faster than she would have hoped, the duration of them spent packing away the contents of her room into boxes. She dismissed the help of the servants wanting to savour the last parts of her childhood alone, structurally moving from one side of the room to the other. In the end there were many things that she had to throw away, keeping only the items closest to her heart. Min Cha informed her that Mrs Hwang told the Jeong family that his fiancée could not attend the dinner due to “feminine problems” to which this made both of their cheeks flush red. They shared a laugh, a genuine smile that bled into sadness soon after as it dawned on her that she wouldn’t share many more laughs with Min Cha for a long time. On her last evening at the home, she kissed the younger one before dismissing her for the rest of the night holding her a little longer, and a little tighter than she usually would have.

The creak of the wooden door, hauled at her attention head snapping up from the suitcase as her mother treaded into the room, steady but with graceful steps. She could never be as regal as her mother, she never understood how her mother maintained such a façade even after so many years of suffering from social abuse. How did one not break?

“Would you like some help dear?” Shaking her head, her hands glided over the clothes methodically stacking them one on top of the other. “I never thought the day would come, and so soon at that.” She sensed a smile on her mother’s lips, her awkwardly joyful tone striking a nerve.

“It wouldn’t have come so soon if you didn’t leave me with much of a choice.” Miss Hwang scoffed, avoiding her mother’s gaze as she continued packing her clothes into her bags. Am I ungrateful for thinking that I want a love that never dies?

“My love-,”

She shook her head furiously, pausing the words that came out of her mother's mouth. Of course she knew that her whole life she wouldn’t be allowed to have a say in her father’s decisions. She knew that eventually she’d be pawned off to the richest man that asked for hand but for a long time those were thoughts that were yet to become real. Tomorrow she’d be married off to Jeong Yunho, the minister’s son and be nothing but his trophy wife. The bearer of his children and an extension of his property. A pretty macabre way to perceive the situation that she was put in but she didn’t see any other way going about it.

“Today I am your daughter, tomorrow I will be just an object-not even worthy of being called a woman. What is a woman anyway, mother? A commodity, right? A baggage to be passed from one man to another?” She pondered as her mother gasped, tears rushing to the front of her eyes. How could her daughter have the courage to say that to her? “Don't look at me like that mother, you never once fought for me.” She bent down to knees, arms extending to grab the number of boxes that she kept beneath her bed. Her own tears pooled at her eyes. Attempting to keep them at bay, she remained on the floor sifting through boxes of jewellery, letters, books composing them into piles of what she did and did not need. She would give them all to Min Cha, with the exception of her a few sets of her mother’s pearls and diamonds. After several minutes, Mrs Hwang left from the room, she released a painful sigh. When the sun sunk beneath the horizon paving the way for the moon to rise upon the night, she had finally finished packing all of her belongings leaving them by her bedroom door for the butler to pick up and take downstairs in the morning. Glaring at the green hanbok draped on the dressing table stool, placed there by one of the maids- unbeknownst to her- she rested her head down on the silk pillow. Pulling the comforter over her eyes she shut her eyes, wishing and praying this was all a long and horrible dream.

A horrible dream it was not, she was rudely awakened from her peaceful slumber. Washed and dressed into a traditional green hanbok, hair brushed back and combed held into place by a bejewelled headpiece. The maids had painted red dots on her cheeks symbolising her youth but to also "ward off evil spirits" as the elders claimed. They left in her own room for a while, as they patiently awaited for the groom's family to arrive. The oldest maid appeared at her side, stroking her hair gently with an abating smile that even her mother failed to provide for her.

“I don’t know how to be a daughter and he’s expecting to be someone’s wife.” Her whisper transcended through Ji Hye's soul, a cry so quiet as if she was hanging onto the edge of an abandoned precipice with nothing but the rush of a hollow sea waiting to invite her death.

“Marriage is all about compromise, dear. Love him the way you want to be loved, men don’t know anything about affection- they need to be led the way. Hold his hands and promise you’ll be a devoted wife. He’ll hold yours and protect you with his life,”

Before she knew it the entire wedding ceremony had come to a close, she couldn't remember anything much other than staring into Yunho's eyes, his face hidden behind a fan as he entered their garden. It was tradition for grooms to give their brides a wild goose during the wedding ceremony, the flapping of its wings as it entered her father's arms provided her with temporary amusement. She remembered the exchange of their vows, formalising their union over a cup of wine. The few guests had eaten their food, blessing the newlyweds with nothing but happiness and prosperity in their marriage.

Entering the palanquin, she jerked at the white curtains before the bearers could, avoiding her mother's eyes through the translucent fabric. Maybe she was just being dramatic and unnecessary, but still it hurt to be used as a tool to extend the Hwang name into nobility. Not to mention Yunho had barely spared her a single glance other than when he was forced to play the role of a loving husband in front of their relatives. Leaning her head against the palanquin, exhaustion dominated her; she gave into her body’s demands to sleep.

“Ahem” a low grumble had stirred her awake from her slumber, an obnoxious yawn almost startling the servant who had been instructed to awake her. Rubbing her eyes, she stepped out of the palanquin the air burning her warm skin.

Two large black wooden gates opened to reveal the Hanok poised at the centre. It was not the largest house she'd seen a noble have but it was certainly a beauty with its glistening purple glazed tiles that decorated the curved roof and the dark brown walls of timber that structured around the home. A small set of stairs led to the porch revealing the salmun, a door made of wood panels and thick paper, allowing them entrance into the home, the path there littered with greenery that she made note to water every morning. Lifting the fabric of her hanbok she treaded up the stairs lingering by the porch as both her father-in-law and Yunho welcomed the servants to place the luggage in the front yard.

“I’ll have the maids take the rest in.” Yunho reassured his father, stood by the doorway with a questioning look of their presence, or rather absence. With a warm smile, Jeong laid a comforting hand on his daughter-in-laws shoulder.

“I’ve left this home in your hands, my dear. Yet should you need anything- I’m only one letter away.” His words held more tenderness than what was in her father’s being alone. He soon dispersed from the estate. With ease, Yunho grabbed hold of the luggage, sliding the door open to disappear into a corner of the home within seconds. All without a single word. Hastily, she followed after him; the interior of the home was almost empty, the translucency of each door feigned an impression of massiveness. She learned quickly that there were in fact no maids in the home, so then why did he lie to his father? Did Mr Jeong not know that Yunho kept no servants in his home? Not even as much as one maid?

There was little to no furniture, as she peeked her around the living space, the dining room, then she found herself wandering near a bedroom adjacent to a study and washroom.

“These are my quarters. Follow me, I’ll show you to yours.” His glacial tone had startled her, she felt her veins pulsating as blood sped through her body like scarlet rivers. Trailing after him, she noticed that the further they moved in, the colder it was wrapping her arms around her shoulders to keep her warm. The hallways seemed to be narrower in this part of the home too. Her quarters were similar to that of his with the rooms the same size and similarly furnished except in the far corner of the room there was a dressing table with a small stool. Adjacent was a washing room, however to compensate for the missing study there was a door that led to a porch extending straight to the garden. With her luggage held at the foot of the bed, her peripheral vision caught Yunho loitering by the door fiddling with his fingers as if he was unsure of what to do with himself.

“I thought we were supposed to be staying in the same room.”

“I like my own space.” She nodded in agreement. Unsure of what to do, she reached for his hands to place in her own as Ji Hye had advised her to do. Hold his hands and promise you’ll be a devoted wife. Yunho looked down at her in confusion.

“I promise I won’t let you down, I'll be a devot-."

"Dear god, stop this absurdity." Roughly, he shoved her hands away from him, "Stop this foolish act." The coarseness of his words stunned her, an uncomfortable warmth spreading across her cheeks as she looked down at her feet in embarrassment wanting nothing more than the ground to engulf her and take her six feet under. "Here's my promise. Do not expect me to be a doting husband and kiss you goodnight. This marriage is at the expense of both our parents. You’re nothing but a baggage to me, weighing me down.” He snarled, bitterness hanging heavy on his tongue. "Oh and stay out of sight- I can’t stand looking at you.” He grimaced at her appearance before stalking off in the other direction, leaving her alone in the desolate hallway. What great sin must she have committed for her to be have been cursed with a man like him? Barely even a day into their marriage and he was abandoning her as one did to a wounded animal in a slum. A sharp pang penetrated her heart as she slumped down on the bed. Tucking in her knees she bit her lips refusing to let out a sob. The worst was yet to come so it was futile crying now, she’d save her tears for when he had finally deconstructed her will to live as of now if she obeyed his rules she could survive.

As expected of her, she stayed out of sight and adhered to every command. Every morning she woke up at dawn rushing to the kitchen sweating over steaming soup, chopping vegetables as fast as she could before he woke up. The simultaneous roaring of the boiling pots of rice and whistling of the kettle often made her panic, the halls becoming used to her running down it as she frantically organised the table. The last few times she was late to set the table, she was subjugated to his yelling. He did not even end up eating the food in the end, surging out of the house in anger, speeding after him she tried to reason with him but Yunho left the front gate too soon and there was no point in causing a further commotion.

Not long ago her mother had sent a parcel to the house: a gorgeous traditional dress made from chiffon and silk, with an abundance of letters. A short note from her father, a page from her mother, and about three lengthy sheets from Min Cha updating her on all of the missed gossip of the town. Yet the final line of the letter had made her stop in her path as she strolled across the garden. 'How is your husband? Does he make you happy?'

'He is in great health. Yes, he makes me happy. As happy as the sun makes the earth when it arises from the suffocating dark.'

She wore the dress to one of the dinners that Yunho had been invited to by his good friend, and fellow scholar, Kim Hongjoong and his wife. For the first time in a long time when she looked in the mirror, she was complacent with her appearance the dress accentuating her figure in all the right places- she even wore a ribbon as she tied up her braid. Patiently, Yunho stood by the entrance of their home. Mrs Jeong walked up to him; on observing her presence he did not care to give her second look guiding her out of their home and down the village to Hongjoong's estate. Her esteem had dropped a little, she would’ve taken so much as a glance her way though he wasn’t obligated to give her even that much. Additionally, it hurt that many of the wives, at the party, had their husbands fixed to their sides while Yunho seemed to never be present. Even when the husbands had formed a congregation, some of them would glance affectionately at their spouses meanwhile Yunho never cared for a second to see if she was still in the room. For a while she just hid in the garden, away from the social gathering like she used to at the Hwang estate- enjoying her own comfort amongst nature. Except this time it was not comforting at all, not when the wives told her how lucky she was to have a handsome and intellectual husband like Yunho. Simply she smiled although a pit formed in her heart that only really seemed to dig deeper each time she was reminded of the reality of her miserable marriage. If only they knew, if only someone cared enough to ask her if she was happy instead of telling her how lucky she was. If only they noticed her distance and the sadness veiled beneath the façade of contentment.

Hongjoong, who had initially been making his way to the kitchen to check on how much longer they had to wait until the food was served, noticed a feminine figure standing alone by the white chrysanthemums her fingers brushing over the surface of the petal.

“Jagiya have you seen Mrs Jeong, I can’t-,” Mrs Kim followed his line of sight to find her target. The couple shared a look before Hongjoong made his way to the garden, Mrs Kim fixing her spot by the window.

“Mrs Jeong, are you ok?” The voice of concern cracked her immersion away from the chrysanthemums to Hongjoong who held a friendly demeanour.

“Yes, I’m just not very social at big gatherings.” She admitted, dipping her head in embarrassment.

“Ah, you’re quite the wallflower. Opposite to Yunho, he’s very talkative. I wonder how you put up with him when you feign such quietness.” Forcefully, she smiled. He never spoke to her; when he did it usually out of necessity. “You should come in now, the night will be settling in soon and dinner is about to be served.” Hongjoong had left her to her own devices but as soon as he turned, the hospitable appearance had dropped and he felt a wave of fury. He could see it in her eyes, the sadness she was suffering from, he noticed the longing looks she sent him and Yunho barely acknowledging her presence. How could he be so nonchalant? Mrs Jeong returned back to the house just in time for dinner to be served, the men and women had naturally been segregated from each other enjoying the delicious dishes cooked by the servants with the help of Mrs Kim. The lady of the house occasionally peered over her bowl to see Yunho’s wife who was crammed into the corner of the room avoiding conversation. When she was dragged into one, she engaged enough to not be seen as ignorant before excusing herself to use the restroom. She hid in the bathroom until she was sure that dinner was over, it had turned out that she came back after desert but nobody paid much attention to her absence. Silently, she thanked god for their disinterest.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the table the males had been interrogating Yunho on his life as a newlywed husband. For all they knew he was smitten with his wife and treated her as if she was the Queen Consort herself, taking his distance from her at this gathering as an act of shyness.

“Thank god you settled down, I was getting worried that you were going to be taking up courtesans for the rest of your life.” Mingi, his closest companion, imputed.

“Well that option wasn’t too bad either.” He aimlessly joked, receiving a mixture of responses. Some awkwardly chuckled while others gave him a pointed look latching onto his pending lassitude to marriage. The rest of the evening flew by in a breeze, at the end all of the couples drew back to their respective pairs- thanking the Kim family for their hospitality before dispersing out of the estate with linked arms and intertwined hands.

“You have got to be more attentive towards your wife Yunho. It’s what makes the moments between you much more candid.” Hongjoong advised as Yunho came to bid him goodbye. For the first time during the evening he searched for his wife, finding her conversing with Hongjoong’s spouse by the doorway.

“What do you mean, hyung?” Yunho questioned, that great big grin of his faltering slightly.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you should be able sense her emotions towards you at this point. Do you ever stop to think that for a married woman she looks incredibly lonely?” His tongue poked the inside of his mouth, he cocked his head as he focused his attention towards her.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong. She’s just never been much of a social butterfly.” Hongjoong begged to differ but he did not want to pry, he had his attempt at trying to get Yunho to see how stoic he was being- whether or not he wanted to understand his sobriety was his own problem. The pair approached their wives, Yunho snaking an his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him-he sensed how stiff she had gotten from his touch.

“…and be sure to visit me whenever you’d like! I would enjoy the company, Mrs Jeong.” Mrs Kim offered. The newlyweds smiled, bid their final goodbyes and whisked themselves away from the home. Yunho kept his arm around her waist, gripping his wife to his side all really because he saw the evident scepticism whenever he spoke about his marriage, the wool could not be pulled over Hongjoong’s eyes.

“Complaining about me to Hongjoong?” Her back pressed against the wooden panel as he inched towards her intimidatingly.

“What? No, there’s nothing to complain about-” He grabbed the bottom of her chin, her neck snapped back as she looked at him her jaw paining from the intensity of his coarse grip.

“I’m starting to get sick of you,” He yanked her head backwards and forwards, a breath catching in her throat. In that moment he looked like her father, inflicting tethers of abuse to assert his dominance. With a thumping heart that beat too quickly for its own good, her vision became cloudy, breaths exhilarating as he continued to yell at her. This time, the words whirled over her head- her mind clogged with everything and nothing at the same time as the walls of the room began to shimmer, caving in on her. Ripping away from his grip, she pushed past him stumbling to her quarters as tears rushed to the front of her eyes, her mind filling with all of the trauma she had endured from her childhood, as he called after her. She broke into a sprint, tearing through the open space. Her back slumped against the door; she gripped her lips to prevent any sound from coming out as hot tears streamed down her paling skin. Irrational thoughts began to infiltrate her mind.

I can’t do this anymore.

He called out her name through the door, skin leaping of her muscles at the unusual gentleness.

“Let me come in, what’s going on?” No, he’d only mock her. She couldn’t let her guard down. Darting her eyes to the drawer on her bedside table, the hurricane of voices in her mind seemed to quieten.

No one would miss me, right?

The tears stopped, the pace of her heart regulating back again, quickened breaths slowing as she edged closer to the drawer. Chewing on her lip, she felt a roar of emotions tackle her as she gripped the cold metal handle this time not bothering to glue her mouth shut as obnoxious tears escaped her.

Min Cha would miss her. Her mother would miss her. Maybe not her husband or her father. Her husband could move on, wives were replaceable after all. Though killing herself would be a way at getting back at her father, she had no siblings- there would be no one to elevate the Hwang name. Suicide was socially unacceptable, so she’d be digging a grave for both herself and her family. The thought had crossed her mind too many times than she’d liked to admit but she lacked the strength to commit the sin. Instead she'd clasp her hands together and pray to god for a way out of this torment. Fatigue overpowered her at last, crawling to the bed she lifted the covers slipping underneath as her arms wrapped around herself to feel the warmth she was entitled to. When she slept, she dreamt of a fantasy- a life where he loved her and she loved him. As deeply and constantly as one wanted to be loved.

He stood on the other side of the door, tempted to slide it open to see if she was ok. Her eyes had held a certain type of horror that had haunted him. Yunho was too proud to admit that he had been treating her terribly, in an attempt to rebel against his father for the way he'd been forced into this marriage with no way out. Despite this remark, he was still too shallow to see that she was in the same position as himself suffering worse at the hands of his tyranny.

"My dearest Min Cha,

I lied to you. I lied to you when I said he makes me happy. How can I be happy when I have to beg for him look at me? If God permitted I ever crossed his mind it would be a blessing for he torments me with his harsh words and aloof stare-"

He called out her name.

For the first time in a very long time, since that night he stood outside the door for hours as she sobbed herself weary. The sound of him calling her name echoing the beat of her heart, every octave was every rhythm silencing the sorrowness in her soul. Even when he subjected her to his ferocity, she grappled onto the moments when he called for her because even being used felt like loving.

"I was going to go on a walk, if you'd like to join me?" His eyes darted to sheet in front of her, "if you're busy-"

"I'd love to," Maybe she said that too quickly, but he gave her a sheepish smile. Slipping the sheet inside the drawer and closing the pot of ink, she rose from her seat following Yunho out of the home.

The neighbourhood was quiet, as the sun began to sink beneath the sky. Some of the neighbourhood’s children scuttled back into their homes- all of them reminding her of her own dear Min Cha. They’d ventured out of the town centre, towards the outskirts where a large park was situated. She’d never gone there herself, but saw it on her way to Mrs Kim’s house. The park itself was desolate, the grass waving eloquently as few birds soared through the sky. She wondered what it was like to be free. Was she not free? Perhaps free from her father’s wrath, but instead subjugated to even worse at the hands of her husband. In that moment she envied Mrs Kim- and envy was a foreign feeling to her- for having someone as caring as Hongjoong as her husband. Whilst she was so whisked away in her sorrows, she didn’t notice Yunho draw his fingers closer to her- before encapsulating her whole hand within his. The sudden warmth perpetuated through her, her heart fluttering at this sudden affection. Was he starting to appreciate her now?

"Hongjoong-nah!" he called out, summoning the attention of the couple sat beneath a tree, a large number of metres away from them. Oh, that's why he held my hand. Everything was an act to him, she bit her lip to stop it from quivering. No affection was ever really genuine and no amount of praying to God would ever make it real. Hongjoong and his wife waved back, Yunho stepped forward to make his way across the fields towards them but she tugged at his arm pulling him back. He looked down at her confused, attempting to tug her along with him but her feet anchored to the ground.

"I think you should leave them be, they're having their own moment." she offered, her faint voice infiltrating his ears. Processing the thought, he pursed his lips and then nodded. They both waved at the couple, turning away to move- she half expected him to let go off her hand at that but their hands remained clasped together, Yunho tightening his grip as they walked away from the fields back to their home.

Undiscovered to them, when Hongjoong waved back he almost made a gesture to invite them over to him when his wife tugged at his arm.

"Let them be, Joong. They're having their moment." He agreed, retracting his hand, watching as his best friend walk away from him.

As suspected, Yunho’s sentiment stemmed from his guilt. After that day where they walked through the park together, he never invited another moment of closeness. Ignoring the agonising pang that struck through her, she moved on with her chores, simply deciding that she would have to live it the same way that her mother did.

Her father-in-law stopped to visit a few times. Yunho had hired maids, for the week that he stayed over. For the first time it felt odd to not be doing something, she was not at comfort with it. However, she had to manufacture a façade for Mr Jeong; so she did. Much to Yunho’s dismay, her mother had sent a letter saying that she too was passing through the town and wanted to visit her daughter.

She knocked on the door to his study, his head perked up at the sight of her. Inaudibly she handed the letter to him, to which he quickly scanned over the page releasing an annoyed sigh.

“You couldn’t have told me earlier? I wouldn’t have to dismiss the maids.”

“I only got the letter today.” Rolling his eyes, he leaned back in his chair, exercising his strained fingers. “Go.” He ordered.

“Would you like me to get you-,”

“Go.”

Her mother, meekly, ambled through the gate a small bag of luggage in hand. Yunho had not been at home when she arrived, but when he came back she had to scuttle to the doorway and make him aware so that her mother wouldn’t have to hear any of his harsh words. With a short nod, he retreated to his room to change out his scholars robes, before greeting his mother-in-law in the dining room.

“You’re so lucky, dear, to have a husband like Yunho. Tall, handsome, clever. What more could you ask for?” For him to care for me, to treat me as his equal. To not just treat me as a toy, picking and dropping me whenever he wishes. Mrs Hwang’s hands outstretched for her daughter’s, jerking immediately once she had surveyed them. They were not soft like they had used to be, but coarse-as if struck by labour. “These aren’t a wives hands. Those are tender and full of care. These are overworked.”

“He’s overworked my love for him.” She joked. Mrs Hwang gave a detailed stare before cracking a forced smile, fear rushing through her. Perhaps she was just overthinking, maybe her daughter had taken up studying again and was spending her free time writing away with her husband.

“I almost forgot. I came to hand the keys to your grandmothers estate in Hahoe. Take it as a wedding gift. You ought to visit, to see if it’s still intact or has been run over by the villagers.” Accepting the keys from her mother, she opened up her bedside drawer, waiting for the rush of sombre emotions to subside before throwing them in.

Sometimes I envy you, at least you were seen even if it was to be hurt.

A low hiss escaped from her lips as she carried the heavy tray to the dining room, a sharp stab penetrating through her lower abdomen almost disabling her ability to move through the vast hallways. After many months, the frigidity of her quarters had finally gotten to her, waking up with a stuffy nose and an abrasive tickle in her throat. Much to her dismay, Yunho was sat in his seat as she rested his food in front of him. She bit her lip as she kneeled to set out his dishes, restraining a grunt. Her hands moved quickly, partly so she could withdraw to her room, roll up into a ball and wallow in her own pain. Yunho noticed her paling skin and the beads of sweat forming above her lip as with a shaky breath she poured his tea, his prolonging beam burning into her skull. Hastily, she rose up grimacing before turning to leave. He shot out his hand, grabbing her wrist, fear bleeding onto her face.

“You should stay and eat with me.” He suggested. The words somehow warmed her heart, yet the two forces of pain and comfort repelled against each other. Tugging at her wrist, it prompted her to sit aside him Yunho moving the plate between them. "Eat up, you look really weak. Are you eating properly?" With furrowed brows and pursed lips he lifted his spoon to feed her, her hand lifted to grab the handle of the spoon but he jerked it back. "Open your mouth." he spoke light heartedly. She accepted his spoonful of food as if he hadn't subjected her to months of distance and cold words. As if a few months ago their marriage was menial and meant as much as servant meant to a king or wheat meant to a lion. What had caused this sudden change? They spent rest of the duration of breakfast taking in turns eating; she spent the whole time clutching at her stomach- and avoiding eye contact at that. He wanted something from her, her nerves jolting at the thought of being used. At the end, she picked up all the dishes to clear them from the table, scurrying out of the room so he would be unable to notice the blush forming on her cheeks when he attempted to assist her and their skin touched sending a tingle through her fingers. Though he did notice, a blush crept upon his face- even he couldn't understand the change in heart despite knowing that his indifference towards her was unjustified; he could not blame the cruelty he beguiled her to on his father and a marriage he did not want.

A sigh of relief escaped her once he left the house; she limped to her room, the pains in her stomach unfaltering. Closing her eyes, she slipped into a deep slumber. When she had awakened to a soft nudge, no light streamed in through the windows. Her eyes widened in realisation, grunting to sit up.

“Are you ok?” She jumped slightly, shifting her line of sight to find her husband kneeled beside her. Oh god. An intense consternation seethed through her blood, her heart wavering with anticipation as if waiting on his judgement. What would he do? Shout at her? Maybe grab her forcefully as he had once done? Deprive her of food? He hadn’t done the latter as of yet, but what was stopping him? His despotism held no bounds. Yet, to her surprise, he did none of it. Instead, he placed the palm of his hand to her forehead, feeling the burn of her skin against his. “Goodness, stay here. Don’t move.” Her vision wavered, as a result of her drowsiness. Tucking up her knees to her chest, she waited for him on her bed. After a while, he reappeared in her room with a tray holding an assortment of things. A bowl of hot soup, some tea, a spoon. His affection astounded her. Yunho did not even let her pick up the bowl, raising the spoon to her lips to feed her the soup.

“Have you eaten?” She asked. He shook his head.

“You must be hungry, I can prepare you food.”

“Don’t bother, you’re staying here. Besides I’m not hungry. How long have you been in pain for?” Was this the same Yunho she was married to? Actually, was this all a dream?

“Not long, it started today.” His lips fell into a polite frown. She had always agreed when others told her that Yunho possessed a handsome face, yet today those features became particularly distinguished to her.

“I can call the Physician I’ll go-,”

“There’s no need. I’m-,” He arched an eyebrow in inquisition. “I’m on that time of the month.” His ears tinged red in embarrassment, an endearing smile fell on her. Then it had dawned on her. When was the last time she smiled? Truly, and not forced?

“Would you like a heating pad then?” Nodding her head, she beamed again, to which he immediately dispersed out of the room to obey her request. Yunho had realised how much he enjoyed being affectionate, hating himself for the torture he inflicted upon her. Every touch was still staggered, every kind word had come off less fluently than he would have liked.

“You have a thing for staring into space.” Yunho’s eyes met hers. “You’ll look at anything but me.” He sat in her room again, he liked it there. There was a comfort in her quarters that could not be found elsewhere in the home. Though she found comfort in the garden. He had never paid much attention to it before, his scholarly duties often prevented him from venturing into the garden- sometimes he stayed over the nights at the office, scribbling away in journals fulfilling an endless piles of tasks submitted to him by his superiors. He found himself looking at her whilst she was staring intently out of the window.

“Is that a problem?” She provoked, playfully.

“Yes. I require your attention.” She focused on his wide brown eyes for a second before raising her eyebrows in a questioning manner, one that read ‘Well what do you want from me?’ She knew better now than to interpret this sudden interest in her, as affection. “Is it too bad for me to want to you focus on me instead?” Hesitantly, he enveloped her smaller hands into his the warmth of his palms easing the tension of their embrace. Then with all the courage he had, he shifted his body to rest his head on her laps, her hands flinging upwards at the shock of the sudden display of affection. He closed his eyes as she feebly combed her fingers through his soft black hair. Were these the small moments of affection that made a happy marriage? Moments where they were basked in each others embrace, nothing but the comfort of silence draping over them.

“How was your day?” She whispered, a small smile formed on his lips.

“Pretty dull if you ask me, meetings after meetings but no progression. How was yours?”

“Also dull. But the kitchen and garden keeps me occupied.” His eyes snapped open and she halted her movements for a second.

“I could hire the servants back to help you, if it’s too much.” She shook her head as if to disagree. In all honesty, she liked the domesticity. It brought her a sense of security- if she could not entirely stable a place in his heart, she could at least have a place in his home. He made himself comfortable in her laps, flipping his head as if to indicate he was about to sleep.

“Right you can get off me now, your big head is weighing down my legs.” He snickered, that beautiful smile crawling across his defined features, plaguing her own heart. She snickered with him, sharing a small laughter between them. He did leave her that night, but not without placing a chaste kiss on her forehead leaving with her smile that fell with her when she slept.

“She just wanted a few pieces of literature. I write a few things in the margins.” On her way home from Mrs Kim's she sought Yunho stood outside of their home with another woman. A beautiful woman at that, wrought with elegance and grace. Her movements so poise, she even matched Yunho's insatiable beauty. He caught her discontentment through his peripheral vision. Picking up a book from the night stand in his quarters, where they both sat on his bed, he flipped through a few pages showing her his detailed annotation. “Most people just like to read my notes rather than the actual novel.”

“It’s very profound.” She noted, reeling through the words. He had a poetic way of writing, reflective of his image and movements. Yunho was looking at her again, whilst she was flipping through the pages in his book. He caught the long curve of her lashes, blinking as soft as a child’s blow across a face. Like the way he used to blow on his mother’s eyes to steer her awake from her sleep when he was hungry.

“You’re beautiful.” He blurted. And she was. She always was. He was just too cruel to deny himself the pleasures of being in love to admit that to himself. “I’m sorry.” A second confession, yet this one hung tensely in the air. Without looking at him, her palm settled on his cheek. She did not have the strength to say it was ok, because none of it was.

“Can you look at me?” Their eyes connected in an instant. His lips drawing nearer to her own. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, before meeting her lips, drawing her into a passionate kiss fuelled from his melancholia. I’m sorry. And they met again, in the darkness of his room, heads falling onto the pillow, kissing away their sorrows until the stars ignited in the night sky.

He had not come home for a while, his absence tormented her. She knew of his increasing number of hours at the Royal Office, regardless she launched into a fit of worry as she strode down the street to his workplace. If he wasn't going to come home himself, she would have to drag him from there. Upon reaching his workplace, piles of scholars rushed out yet Yunho was still nowhere to be seen.

“Are you ok, Miss?” A scholar had asked.

“I’m looking for Jeong Yunho.”

“In the library. Just down the hall from the entrance.” Nodding she quickly thanked him before he could question her further. Her eyes ran down the aisles, letting out an exhale when she noticed his appearance, at the bottom end. Though before she could take a step forward, the same noblewoman appeared from before. A pleasant smile graced his lips as she handed back one of his books. It had all appeared slow from then on, the way that she grabbed his collar down towards her.

She watched him kiss her.

Did the Earth stop orbiting the sun? For everything in that moment felt incredibly still, like the wind had an hitch in its throat, the delicate leaves outside had stopped swaying; the birds had stopped flapping their wings. When a dissonant gasp had escaped from her lips, the world had resumed all the same, soul thriving with vigilance. He had kissed her the same way she had once been kissed: with such raw emotional intensity, his hands settled on her waist bringing her closer to him. She couldn't watch, tears blurring her vision her sweaty palms balled into fists at her side. Tearing away from them she sprinted back towards her home- her body wracking with tears. Was it even her home anymore? It wasn't enough that she walked through the desolate alleyways, her sobs were loud enough to wake an animal from hibernation but she couldn't care less. Not when his love felt like a feather floating towards the ground, away from her and she was unable to clasp it, feeling its fibres caress her skin. It's touch was no longer satisfactory, it was addictive and she wanted more. Yet it was not hers to have, and not his to give.

All of it was a lie. She wasn't just a noble woman interested in some reading. She wasn't just an acquaintance. After all, Mrs Jeong wasn't just his wife- maybe on paper but had there ever really been moment in their relationship where his love hadn't reached after a period of hurt? There was no continuity to his affection and there never would be. The sadness within her transgressed to anger, she slipped into her quarters through the back garden- her tears ceasing as her body gushed with a familiar numbness.

How long- No.

There would be no more 'How long?' because with each passing second as she prayed for him to return to her and her alone, Yunho took advantage of her desperation to keep her looped to him. Impulsively, she yanked at her drawers grabbing at every article of clothing she possessed and shoving them into the same bags she had entered this cursed home with a never ending stream of tears soundlessly pouring down her face as she did. Her heart tugged at her when she slid the bags under her bed so he would not see if he entered her room. Residing to the table, she began to scribble at the sheet of paper, the wounding scratching of the quill against paper creating small dents.

He never returned home that night. And she didn't long to see his face, the memory of it disgusting her. She felt so tainted, marked, by his touch- is that all he wanted her for? Her body? And her, a fool she was to give it to him like it meant nothing to her. When the dawn seeped into the sky she placed a letter on the mahogany table of his study, taking the envelope containing the key that her mother had given her and fled from the estate-taking the doors at the back of the home. Her chest burned as she stormed up the hill, and when she reached to the top of it the chilling air suffocated her lungs- her eyes flung back to the home, her yearning for it ever so strong. A final look; she tore her eyes knowing that if she went back she'd only get hurt even more and there would be no one to blame but herself.

"Jagiya, I'm home!" He called into the foyer. There was no pattering of footsteps stumbling his way to greet him home. Neither was she in the kitchen, in her quarters-or his own. In replacement of her absence, in the study a crisp, folded up note sat on his desk. His heart thumped in his chest as he picked it up.

My love,

I find I cannot bring myself to say the things I want, to your face. So as the coward I am, I say them through this letter hoping it reaches your heart instead of your eyes. I’m sorry that I married you. I’m sorry that she’s not yours. I’m sorry that even though I tried, and tried and tried that I wasn’t enough for you. So I’m setting you free from the shackles of this marriage. Whilst a divorce is not an option, I wish for you to take my departure as a blessing to move on with the woman you love.

I cannot stand in the same room as you, knowing she stood there too. I cannot bear your touch knowing she felt you too, in a more sincere way than I have ever felt. I cannot and will not hear you say you love me, not when you don’t mean it. Perhaps you feel you must say it out of obligation. Now you have no obligation to me, so say it to her in all the ways I wanted to hear them.

Lastly, thank you. Whilst I could not be entitled to your heart, you gave me the comfort of your home, your money and somewhat your time. For that I’ll always be grateful. I wish you the best of luck for the future.

Sincerely,

Miss Hwang

The letter in his hands trembled, tears billowing at the front of his brown eyes. How did he lose her? Did she somehow see the kiss? The way that the noblewoman had forced herself onto him, fixing her lips to him so tightly, he was paralysed on the spot. He could have sworn he felt her presence looming in the room, he couldn’t do this to her. He had hurt her enough. Roughly pushing away the noblewoman he ran to the bathroom, scrubbing at his lips as if it would remove the cursed action in itself; take the unremovable stain off. A weak sob escaped from his lips, sinking to his knees to cry out to the moon. It was all a mistake. He needed to find her, he needed to make his way to back to her.

A little body dashed across the front lawn, parading around the bushes as his mother stood in the kitchen, stacking away the dishes back into the cupboards. Thunder cracked the sky once more as a tall figure dashed up the hill to find comfort from the rain in the house settled upon the hill. He found that a child ran around the outside, who having sought him transcend tiredly, slowly inched towards him. Having been sent to Hahoe to retrieve scrolls and various pieces of literature, he had been let out of the carriage too early left to venture his way into the town. Normally, Yunho’s navigation skills were precise though with his mind wrought with numbness- it severed at his ability to think rationally. Yunho did not find her. He had searched the whole of Joseon too. From Hongjoong’s home all the way to her parents. Every possible place he thought she could be, he checked. Her mother cried out her soul, his father taunted him. A fool he was to let a diamond slip from his hands.

Si Won watched a man walk up the hill to his home, cocking his head in inquisition. His mother, Mrs Jeong, stalked to the doorway to call her child back into the home. A few weeks after she had reached her grandmother’s home in Hahoe, she was attacked by a wave of sickness every morning, tiredness gnawing at her muscles and had suddenly manifested a large appetite. She met with the towns physician, quickly learning that she was pregnant. She came back home to cry herself to sleep, so much so that she had almost lost her child in the midst of her grief. He became her anchor, giving her a reason to wake up every morning and to survive.

“Si Won, get back inside.” The toddler nodded before dashing down the hills to satisfy his interest in the peculiar stranger. Yunho’s movements halted as he met with the boy, who had shyly stopped less than a metre away. With a kind wave, the boy smiled- one that eerily mirrored his own.

She stopped as the stranger lifted up her child, walking in the direction of her home. There was something about the way that he moved that magnetised her, though the rain beating down on them, had her rushing back into the doorway-poking out her head. Yunho’s heart stopped for a split second in his chest.

It was her.

The child released himself from his grip, squirming to be put down. Gently, Yunho set down the boy who rushed into his home and passed his mother, frozen to the ground. He called out her name, a pained sob releasing from her as she turned to grab her child.

She had left the door open, Yunho ran in. Facing away from him, her child’s head buried in the crook of her neck by the light force of her hand. All so he couldn’t see her in this moment of vulnerability. No child should ever see their mother cry. It hurt more for them watch, than the mother to endure.

“I searched the whole of Joseon for you, but I couldn’t find you.” His wavering voice, reached out to her from the other end of the hallway.

“Close the door. Take off your shoes and go into the living room.” She ordered, passing up the steps to settle her child down to sleep. Persisting through his whines to not go to bed, he shrunk into a ball under her hard stare; huffing as if that would change her mind.

“Is he mine?” The soft covers blanketed his tiny frame, her hands caressing his cheeks. She got up to face him, nodding.

“I think you should leave, Yunho. When the storm subsides.”

“You have to listen to me. It’s not what you think. I know you saw us-,” His pleads were interrupted by the shutting of the door, descending the steps she entered the front room. “It was a mistake. She grabbed me, and forced herself onto me. I would never do that to you.”

“Would you not?” She argued. “You had no problem in hurting me when we first got married. In fact, in the entirety of our marriage you have hurt me more than you have loved me.” He went quiet, panting in the air as he held back sobs. He wanted to reach out and hold her again.

“I was sincere in my apology, I realised how wrong it was of me to subject you to punishment over something that was not your fault. I hadn’t realised that you never wanted this marriage in the first place- the same way that I didn’t. I hadn’t realised how cruel your father really was, until I told him that you had left home and there was not even so much as a scent of emotion on his face.” Breathlessly, his hands shook by his sides. Taking in his face, it no longer held the youthfulness that it once did. It was spun with tiredness and sorrow, his face sunken as if he hadn’t eaten in years. She wanted to dote on him again, hold him, feed him with her own spoon. Tell him how much she loved him, but hadn’t he hurt her so much already? Was he worth the endless amount of love she held for him?

“I had to beg for you to love me. Nobody begs for love Yunho. And even if you couldn’t love me, you could’ve tolerated me but you didn’t even want to do that.” A shaky breath escaped from her lips. His heated stare burned holes into her skin, her hair stuck to the back of her neck as sweat pooled under the guise of every humiliating emotion felt to man.

"Let me be yours again, please." he went down on his knees wrapping his arms around her stomach; tears staining the front of her dress. A stream of her own pearl tears soundlessly scurried down her face as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair.

"Oh Yunho, why can't you understand? You've always been mine. It's me who's never had the privilege of having you." Falling to her knees, she plastered both of her hands to the side of his face, lifting it up gently so she could bore her eyes into his.

“Let me have that privilege again, let me have you in all the ways that you deserve. To have you and hold you in my arms is all I want to do. I will lay down my life for you just to have you again.” A solicitude remained suspended in the air, his staggered breaths pulping the palpable tension- attempting to calm himself.

“I’ve been hurt enough. I really don’t think I can go on being hurt.” He nodded his head understandingly, a look of dejection flooding over his perfect features. Hesitantly, she reached for his hands encasing his larger palm in hers- to grab at his attention. Patting her lap, she motioned for him to draw closer to her. Slowly, he drew closer falling into her laps. “Don’t say anything. I just want to hold you.” To hold you as if I’m going to lose you again. To drink you in as if this the last of drop of water to ever touch the earth.

With his face buried in her torso, his eyes fluttered to a close. Her knees tucked up, hands roaming through his hair as if it were uncharted lands. Wind rushed into the room, the sky dimming to a stony grey.

She knew now. Her worth was void of value but her love for him transcended deeper than the earth, vaster than the seven seas. Her hurt prolonged centuries, an immortal root that would transgress generations. Her heart limped towards him, through ruptured arteries and severed limbs.

“Get up, dear. Si Won-ah is waiting for us.”

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

‘hwang’ meaning yellow

A/N: I was hyping up how sad this would be, so I hope this actually lives up to everyone’s expectations 😭 I did catch myself crying but I am overly emotional sometimes. This has been sitting in my drafts for a good four and a half months, it’s such a relief to finally get it out.

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

[kaliforniahigh]

birds of a feather, we should stick together - n.s. (part two - final)

Best friends to lovers, fake dating and best friend Noah <3 A little something to start the year right!

Warnings: slow burn I guess? curse words, Noah is a little bitch towards Jade lol a shitty ex makes an appearance, pining, idiots in love, smut (oral, fem and male receiving, unprotected p in v), me not knowing how to end fics.

WC: 7.2k (I proofread this, but if there are any mistakes, let me know!)

Requests are closed for now / Click here to be added to the permanent tag list <3

The salty air already filled your lungs as soon as you stepped outside the airport and into the humid air. You fished your sunglasses that were hanging on the collar of your shirt and put them on. You heard Noah laughing lightly beside you.

"We're not even at the beach yet", he pointed out and you just shrugged your shoulders.

"We'll be soon", you answered as you looked for a taxi to take you to the resort.

Noah and the driver put your bags in the trunk and you got in the backseat. Pulling up the name of the resort to show the driver, who was a man and appeared to be in his thirties.

On the drive there, he told you how you were going to love it here, especially since you were staying in one of the nicest resorts in the area. You looked at Noah and wiggled your eyebrows, who just shook his head with a little smile playing on his lips. He didn't want to cave and admit he was going to have a good time.

As soon as you arrived, you gave the driver a tip and thanked him. You and Noah making your way to the reception. Jade informed you to give your names and ID, and that the room was already booked in advance.

You were so distracted with balancing your purse and carry-on luggage, that you didn't understand when Noah let out a quiet "oh shit, here we go", beside you.

You soon understood though, when you heard Jade's semi shrill voice coming from the reception just a few steps ahead of you.

"I'm so glad you made it!", she exclaimed, maing your way towards you. Of course she would be waiting for her guests at the entrance. You gave Noah a pointed look from over your sunglasses, that told him to keep this conversation civil.

"Hi, Jade! We're so excited to be here", you told her, and opened your arms to giver her a hug.

Noah wanted to have your abilities to fake enthusiasm, but he was afraid he couldn't. So, he kept a neutral expression when Jade separated from you and looked over at him.

"Hi, Noah", she said, appraising him. "You haven't changed much", she pointed out, the little jab in her tone of voice not going unnoticed by you.

"You have", Noah answered, and you braced yourself for the snide remark that was surely coming. "Especially your face", he said, with an overly sweet smile on his lips.

Jade's face soureded immediately and she diverted her eyes from him and looked back at you.

"Well, your room should be ready, just talk to the receptionist over there", she pointed behind her, Noah going ahead of you and muttering under his breath about how that's what you were trying to fucking do before she interrupted you. "Then", Jade clapped her hands excitedly. "The resort is all ours!", she exclaimed and you smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Jade", you adjusted the purse on your shoulder. "I should get settled in. I see you around?"

"Yes, of course", she gave you another hug and you made your way to where Noah was standing, the card to your room already in his hand.

When you were both out of earshot, and walking towards the elevator, Noah started on his little rant.

"How can she tell me I haven't changed much? I cut my hair, my band is so much more famous now and look how buff I've gotten over the years", he flexed his arms a little bit to get his point across, and you chuckled beside him. Getting in the elevator when the doors opened in front of you, and pushing the button to your floor.

"She's just saying that to get to you", you argued and he knew it was true. "I mean, lucky me, who has a boyfriend who's so famous and tours the whole world singing in front of thousands of people. Who's so strong and has such nice, buff and tatted arms", you gripped his biceps and he had a little bashful smile on his lips.

"That's right", he said, nodding his head in affirmation.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?", you asked him.

"I mean, not from her. But it's nice when you say it. You can keep going, actually"

"Would it make you feel better if I told you her husband totally has a receding hairline, while you have nice and luscious hair?", you said and he laughed out loud at this. He didn't know if you were joking with this information, but he played along with you.

"It makes me feel so much better"

The elevator doors opened and the two of you stepped out. You grabbed his hand to look at the card he was holding.

"What's the room number again?", you asked, when you noticed it wasnt written on it.

"612", he answered and you two went about trying to find the direction of your room.

When you finally found it, Noah scanned the card and you two made your way in, shutting the door behind you.

When you and Noah looked at the room though, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks at how beautiful everything was. To the king sized bed, to the stunning view of the ocean from the sliding glass doors. You probably haven't seen a place so beautiful before in your life.

"I can already tell I'm gonna have the best sleep of my life here.", Noah said and you couldn't help but agree.

"Just imagine, laying on the bed and hearing the sounds of the ocean. The waves crashing on the shore", you marveled, as you set your bags down on the floor and got prepared to put everything away.

"Yeah. Your snores too", Noah said and you wipped your head to look at him.

"I already told you, I don't fucking snore", you told him, but you knew he said it just to mess with you. He knew how much you hated when he insinuated that you snore.

"And I already told you that you do. In fact, I'm going to record you one day to prove it to you", he teased you once more, loving the way you huffed and puffed in annoyance.

"You've said that a hundred times, but have never actually done it", you dismissed him, walking towards the bathroom to put your stuff on the counter.

"It has a fucking tub in here", you yelled from the bathroom, and he made his way over to see it for himself.

"This dude is actually fucking loaded", Noah remarked and you nodded in agreement.

You two worked together to unpack everything, finding new things about this room as you walked and inspected it. As soon as you were done, you grabbed your bikini and went to the bathroom to change. You picked all your best outfits for this trip, and your best bikini happened to be one with an intricate pattern on the back that you couldn't figure out how to tie.

Sighing in defeat, you decided to summon some help.

"Noah", you called out his name.

He walked from the bed to the bathroom door and stopped right in front of it. "Yeah?".

"Get in here. I need your help with this bikini", you said and saw the door open from the huge mirror in front of you. "I can't tie this", you complained to him.

Noah couldn't help but notice how the only thing keeping your top from falling down completely, were you hands holding them against your boobs. He had to look away, because his swin shorts were already thin, and he didn't need a hard on right in front of you. He cleared his throat and grabbed the two thin straps of your bikini.

"Why do you have to pick the most complicated one?", he asked, keeping a safe distance from you, noticing how your bum was barely covered from your bikini bottom.

"It's the nicest one I have", you argued back and Noah could see why you picked this one. It was certainly nice on you.

"There, I tied it", he said, patting you on the back twice and stepping away from you. You turned around to face him.

"You tied it tight, right? Can't be at the beach and suddenly give everyone a show"

Noah thought that wouldn't be so bad, actually.

Shit, why the fuck was he suddenly having thoughts about seeing your tits?

"Don't worry", he rolled his eyes at your statement, trying to look as if he wasn't affected by it, and made his way out of the bathroom, you following right behind.

"I'm gonna put some suncreen on your back, because I don't need you red as a tomato and complaining that it hurts", you pointed out and Noah acted as if he was personally attacked by your remak.

"What are you talking about? That only happened everytime we went to the beach ever", he crossed his arms in front of him and you laughed, grabbing the sunscreen bottle and telling him to turn around.

Spreading a nice amount on his back, and covering every inch of skin possible, you handed him the bottle and turned around yourself, silently asking for him to do the same with you.

Noah started to talk about how he wanted to try every cocktail they have on the menu, but you tuned out his voice as soon as his hand came in contact with your back.

It was a fact, and everyone knew he had huge hands, but to have them splayed on your almost naked back, warm and steady was a different feeling completely. You noticed how he had to lift the straps of you bikini to get suncreen underneath, and suddenly you felt lightheaded, imagining the scenario in a completely different circumstance.

Shaking your head from your thoughts, you noticed he was done, and you told him he could keep the bottle so he could put sunscreen everywhere else, and that you'd be in the bathroom, getting your hair ready.

In no time, you were both strolling around the resort, finding the perfect place for you to lounge around.

"There's a pool with a bar in it", Noah pointed out and that's where you decided to settle.

Getting in the pool, you both sat on the stools covered by water and ordered your first drinks of the day.

The sky was clear and the sun was beaming in the sky. You skin was already warm, and you were hoping for a natural tan by the end of your stay here. Looking around you, you saw children playing in the water, people sunbathing and a few people taking some dancing classes in the distance.

However, as you were about to turn around to take the drink the bartender had just set in front of you and Noah, your eyes fell on someone you haven't seen in ages. Someone you hoped you'd never see again.

Taking off your sunglasses, you did a double take, making sure your eyes weren't deceiving you. And sure enough, your high school ex was standing right there, chatting with his other dude bro friends you recognize from school as well.

"You have to be shitting me", you muttered under your breath.

"What?", Noah asked, taking a sip from the straw with a little colorful umbrella on it. You turned around and put your head in your hands.

"Dan is right over there", you informed him, and he looked behind the two of you to confirm.

"Well shit", he said. "Idiot Dan sure is right over there", he turned back to look at you, a displeased look on his face as well.

Noah knew Dan very well. He was the first guy to break your heart at the ripe age of 14. You were dating Dan, but what you didn't know, was that Dan was dating every other girl in school. And you found out in the worst way possible.

You found him kissing another girl under the bleachers.

You and Noah always skipped class hidden under the bleachers, and that day, it was no different. But, he did find it very weird when he found you running out of the gym with tears streaming down your face. That's when Noah started calling him Idiot Dan. Because to him, any guy who had you, and let you slip through his fingers, was a complete idiot.

And Jade knew about the history, so why did she have to invite him?

"Well, look who it is", you heard a distinct voice behind you, and you rolled your eyes before turning around to face him, Noah doing the same. "I always knew this was going to happen", Dan said, pointing at you and Noah.

And that's when you remembered that you're supposed to be a couple. So you leaned a little more towards Noah and you felt him wrap an arm around your waist. His hand a little wet, but warm against your skin, brought you a little comfort in the wake of this conversation.

"Hi, Dan", you greeted him, not trying to hide the displeased tone in your voice.

"I hope the couple is enjoying the beautiful place", he said, waving his hand around him towards the imensity of the resort.

"We'd be enjoying it a lot more if you left us alone", Noah said, in a clipped tone. Every interaction between them ever since you found out Dan was cheating on you was full of rude remarks and even a few curse words.

"Chill man", Dan said in a light tone. "Even if I could, I don't wanna whisk her away from you, so don't worry about it"

Dan was doing it on purpose, and you could tell. Noah gripped you harder and pushed you closer towards him, your hips now meeting his.

"I'll go back to my friends. Have a lovely day", Dan said and made his way to the other side of the pool, where his friends were congregated.

"I hope he fucking drowns", Noah growled beside you, but didn't let go of you just yet.

"How can someone be so despicable? I can't believe I was into him when I was 14", you huffed in annoyance and grabbed your drink once again. You were ready to order another just to forget this interaction ever happened.

Luckily for you, the pool was huge, so Dan's presence on the other side didn't really bother you that much, as you swam back and forth and tried to float, ultimately failing and hearing Noah's laugh from the bar.

Now, you had both of your arms resting on the edge of the pool, feet swaying back and forth. You heard some splashing and felt Noah's presence beside you.

"Are you done tasting all the drinks?", you asked him, looking in his direction. His hair was wet, and his long front pieces were stuck to his forehead in a funny way. You used your finger to push them around and get them out of his face.

"I have a few left, actually", he smiled. "I was observing Dan and his friends over there"

You knew that Noah's protective instinct had kicked in ever since the interaction between you.

"You don't have to worry. I already forgot it happened", you tried to ease his mind a bit.

"He was pointing at you and telling his friends something about you"

"Ugh", you groaned in reply. "Just let it be, he's an asshole", you tried to look back at the group of guys to see if they were still talking about you, but Noah's grip on your shoulder distracted you.

"I thought it was my duty as your boyfriend to make them stop", he got a little closer to you, and his words piqued your interest.

"Oh yeah? And how do you plan on making them stop?", you asked, a little amused.

"Do you trust me?", he asked, and you scoffed.

"Of course I trust you"

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt Noah's soft lips on yours. His hand that was on your shoulder moved to the back of your neck, and you rested your palm on his chest.

The kiss didn't evolve much from a long peck on the lips, since Noah didn't want to push his luck too much and scare you away.

He parted from you, but kept his face close to yours.

"Was he looking?", you asked. Noah looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with Dan, who had a more than displeased look on his face. He smirked a little and looked back at you.

"I don't think he was", he said, voice low, only for you to hear.

"Then I guess you'll have to kiss me again"

"I guess so", he smirked before planting his lips back on yours for a second time.

This time, though, you didn't let it stay a shy little peck, opening your mouth and moving your lips against his. You felt him slip his fingers through your wet locks and gripping the back of your neck.

You let out a little gasp at the feeling, and suddenly, what you were doing became much more real, as you parted your lips from his, both of you breathing heavier and with your eyes closed.

Looking back over your shoulders, Dan and his friends were nowhere to be seen.

You and Noah have been trying to act as if the kiss didn't happen, and besides that, things have been pretty normal, for the most part.

Everytime you looked at him, you refrained from remembering how soft his lips felt against yours, and how nice and firm his hand felt on the back of your neck. You had to constantly shake the thoughts from your head.

On the next day, you met Jade and the girls for a few drinks and she explained to you that she actually didn't invite Dan. Turns out, he works at the same clinic as her husband, and they're both pretty close. And when she saw the name on the list, the thought of it being him never crossed her mind.

But it's ok, you haven't crossed paths with him yet after that encounter. Besides, you wouldn't let something that happened years ago ruin your stay in this beautiful place.

Today, you and Noah had to wake up extra early, since it was the wedding day. You requested a clothes iron so you could iron your dress and Noah's suit and hang it in the closet so it wouldn't crease.

You also had to get your hair and makeup ready, and since you weren't a bridesmaid, you were on your own for this one. You just hoped you didn't forget anything essential at home.

"What if I just wear the dress shirt and leave the suit jacket here?", Noah said. He's been spiraling over his clothes for the last 15 minutes.

"I already told you", you sighed out loud. "Jade said you can wear only the dress shirt and roll the sleeves up. It's a beach wedding after all", you went back to pressing the beautyblender on your face.

"Yeah, and it requires dress shoes?", he scoffed in indignation.

"There's gonna be a tarp over the sand, you won't get sand in your shoes", you rolled your eyes at his dilemma.

"It would've been much better if I could wear my grass flip flops", he muttered under his breath. "I think it fits with the place too".

"I'm gonna throw you over this balcony if you say that one more time", you threatened, but he could tell you were holding back your laugh. "I had to physically remove that abomination from your suitcase"

He threw himself on the bed behind you, putting his hands under his head and watched you get ready.

"Have you showered already?", you asked him.

"No", he answered. "We have 2 hours still"

"What are you gonna do with your hair?", you looked at him from the mirror as you applied some rosy blush to your cheeks. Your look wasn't overcomplicated, but you did want to look healthy and bronzed.

"Hmm", he thought about your quesiton. "What do you mean? I'm doing this with my hair", he waved his hand over his head, where his hair already feel in a perfect swoop.

You groaned.

"Ugh, I wish I was a guy. You'll probably start getting ready fifteen minutes before we have to leave, and then be ready before me", you pointed out. He turned on his side, facing towards where you were sitting.

"I don't understand why you have to do all that", he pointed to the vanity and all your makeup spread over it.

"Because I like to look good?", you answered as if it was obvious.

"You already look good all the time", he shrugged his shoulder as best as he could laying on the bed, acting as if his remark was the most normal thing ever.

And it probably was, if it wasn't for the butterflies dancing all over your stomach.

You decided to not unpack this feeling right now, not having the time for it, and went back to doing your makeup.

Your hairstyle was simple enough. Some updo you were used to doing all the time, just to keep the hair out of your face. Your dress was a light shade of blue, since it was in the wedding's color palette.

Soon enough, you were putting on your dress, and Noah was getting showered and changed. You put on some perfume and the smell permeated the entire bedroom.

You were strapping on your sandals when Noah emerged from the bathroom.

"How many buttons...", he trailed off when you looked up at him from where you were on the bed. You looked like a fairy in your dress. Your makeup was light, but it accentuated your features and he was starstruck for a moment.

You've gone out with him many times befores. He's seen you in this setting many times before. Why did he feel so differently now?

"What?", you asked, and went back to trying to clasp the strap of your sandals behind your ankle. You were struggling though, and he noticed it.

He kneeled in front of you, and gently moved your hands away. "I was gonna ask how many buttons should I leave undone?", he asked and grasped the straps in his hands, the feeling of his fingers on your ankles prompting goosebumps up your legs. You hoped he didn't notice.

"Oh", you swallowed. "Maybe two is enough?", you offered, as he stood up, all done with your heels, and that's when you really looked at him.

His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, but it was his shirt that caught your attention. It was white and quite see through, and you could see the array of tattoos adorning his chest and abdomen, revealing the lack of an undershirt. For a second, you regretted telling him to leave his suit jacket behind.

Before he could catch you staring though, you turned around and grabbed your purse, making sure you had everything you'd need.

The ceremony was breathtaking, like you thought it would be. The set up was beautiful, white flowers everywhere and an arch decorated right above where the bride and groom were standing. It wasn't over the top - if you ignored the luxurious resort just a few steps away from the beach - but it made you emotional as the bride and groom shared their vows.

Noah, when he noticed you were about to start crying, leaned closer to you and whispered in your ear.

"You were right about the receding hairline", and you had to disguise your snort as a sob, so people around you didn't notice you holding in your laugh.

Now, at the party, people were mingling about and talking. Noah left to get you a drink and as he was waiting at the bar, he felt a presence beside him.

Jade stood there, now in a different dress, and they both didn't say a word for a few seconds.

"You know", Jade started, resting her elbows on the bar top. "I get it now".

"What do you get now?", Noah countered, confused.

"When we were all teenagers, and I observed you and Y/N together, I knew you two would end up together at some point", Jade observed. Noah kept an attentive eye on her. For once, she didn't have an accusatory or judgmental tone in her voice. "I've been observing you two for these past couple of days, and I can tell that you really care for her. It was always like this, but something's different now. You look at her like she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. It's really beautiful to see".

Noah didn't know what to say. You and him always had to deal with people saying you two would end up together, but you two always thought it was just people not believing that a man and a woman could be friends without actually dating.

His eyes drifted to you, chatting with your friends, with a smile on your face, and he realized that yes, he did look at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. Because for him, you did.

"So, with that being said, I'm warning you not to break her heart. She deserves someone good, and I believe you could be that for her", Jade stated.

"I'm not gonna break her heart, Jade. You don't have to worry", Noah affirmed. He didn't remember the last time they could agree on something.

"I know you're not. I'm just telling you though"

And with that, Jade made her way back to the party, and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see you walking towards him, a slightly worried look on your face.

"I saw Jade here, I was coming to intervene just in case something happened", you said and Noah smiled at your concerned expression, as he handed you your drink.

"Don't worry. Nothing happened. We were just talking"

You gave him a skeptical look, but didn't pry any further.

The party went on with a lot of music. Eventually, you and Noah just took your shoes off and decided to go barefoot for the remainder of the night.

You saw the guests congratulating the couple before leaving to go to their respective rooms, the party dying down slowly, until there was only a few people left.

As the sun was setting, you observed the waves crashing on the shore, the soft wind blowing and the moon casting it's glow on the sand.

Suddenly, you had an idea.

"What if we get in the water?", you proposed to Noah, who was standing beside you.

"They don't allow clothes in the pool", he observed, but you shook your head.

"I mean in the ocean", you pointed to the imensity of water in front you both. "We've been here for a couple of days but haven't gotten in the water yet"

"Y/N, it's going to ruin your dress"

You looked around you and an idea popped into your head.

"Come on", you took his hand in yours and led him away from the party, walking along the sand.

"Where are we going?", he asked, a little confused. You just kept walking until the people from the wedding looked like distant figures in the night sky.

Then, you started to take off your dress.

"Oh my God, what are you doing?", Noah exclaimed as he tried to cover his eyes so he wouldn't look at you in only your bra and panties.

"I'm going in the water. You can either go in with me, or you can stay here and watch", you had a mischievous smile on your face, and in this moment, Noah thought you'd be the death of him, as you slowly walked towards the ocean water, beckoning him to go in like a siren.

"Fuck", he muttered under his breath, before starting to unbutton his shirt and undo his belt, leaving himself only in his boxers. He was glad he at least picked a black one for the night.

You were already in the water when he ran behind you, splashing water everywhere and grabbing you by the hips, swaying you around. You laughed and shrieked from the feeling and the cold water hitting your body.

When he released you, you walked further into the ocean and splashed water on his face, getting his chest and hair wet. He did the same to you, and you stayed there, playing in the water like little kids until one of you called for a truce.

You and Noah were breathless from the activities, but had big smiles on your faces. The water was up to your chest, but barely reached Noah's since he was much taller than you.

"I wish I knew how to float", you observed, moving your arms around the surface of the water, eyes fixed on the tiny waves the motion created.

"I can teach you", Noah proposed, extending his arms towards you.

"How are you gonna teach me?", you asked, a little amused at the idea.

"You just lay down on my arms and I'll keep you afloat", he explained, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

You took a few, slow steps until you reached him. He had his arms extended in front of him, and you tried to float so he could grab you from underneath.

The feeling was strange, you could feel his arms under your back, albei a little soft because of the natural movement from the water, and the feeling that he could let go of you anytime and you'd fall in the water was overwhelming.

"Don't let me go", you said, looking at him. He could sense the uneasiness in your voice.

"I'd never", he reassured you, and you both stayed there, under the moonlight, as Noah held you and you extended your arms beside you, feeling the most carefree you had in a long time.

It was Noah who broke the silence.

"I'm glad I came on this trip".

"I'm glad you came too".

You were both looking at each other, and even in the night, you could see the droplets of water on his eyelashes, and the way his hair stuck to his forehead like it always did. You reached forward to push the strands out of the way, but Noah grabbed your hand. He brought your hand to his lips and gave your palm a kiss.

The atmosphere became charged, as you shifted from your position and went back to standing up in the water, this time, in front of him.

"I think I realized something", he told you, voice quiet, the sound of the ocean served as a background to his confession. "I love you. And I love you as so much more than what I thought I did. And I had this feeling blooming in my heart from the very first time I looked at you. But now", he licked his lips, getting closer to you, your chest touching his. "Now, the feeling grew and spilled over and I can't live anymore without telling you this"

You were stunned by his words. He looked so vulnerable under the moonlight.

"The only thing I thought about these last few days was how I wanted to taste your lips for the rest of my life", you murmured to him, hands splaying themselves over his wet chest. "I love you so much. I love how you take care of me, I love how you defend me, I love the way you accept to do crazy things with me and for me", you smiled at this last one. "It's always been you, and I'm glad I told the girls that day at the restaurant that you were my boyfriend, because it led us to this moment".

"My lips are yours to taste for the rest of eternity, baby", he said, before placing his lips on yours, the saltiness of the ocean mixing with the taste of him, and even though your feet were planted on the sand beneath you, you felt as if you were floating.

His hands went underwater and grabbed your hips, bringing your bodies closer. But you weren't satisfied, so, with the help of the ocean water, you wrapped your legs around his middle, and the feeling of every part of you touching him sent Noah into a spiral.

He put both of his hands under the swell of your ass, and parted briefly from your lips.

"Is this ok?", his eyes were almost closed from how good he was feeling right now, and you started to kiss his neck and down his chest.

"It's more than ok", you whispered into his skin, and slowly ground your center over his stomach. Noah let out a low growl and gripped your ass harder.

"Fuck, baby", he said through a hiss. "Gotta get you inside our room right now".

You nodded in agreement, and reluctantly let go of him, and you both made your way to the sand, Noah swatting your ass in the process.

"I hope no one stole our clothes", you observed, but you could see two mounds of fabric forgotten in the sand.

"It's not like we're gonna put them on anyways. We're soaking wet", Noah countered.

"Yeah, I'm soaking wet alright", you teased him, and he groaned and threw his head back in exasperation. "I think it's late enough and we can sneak through the resort like this"

"I hope we don't get arrested for public indecency", Noah joked and you laughed at the ridiculous idea.

You both made it through the resort just fine, with almost no one spotting you, giggling the whole time. You decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, that way, you and Noah didn't risk running into someone in just your soaked underwear.

You got into your room out of breath, and Noah closed and locked the door behind the two of you. You stood at the end of the bed, a smile playing on your lips. Noah made his way over to you, resting his hands on your hips.

"Well, we can't mess up the bed with our wet clothes, right?", you noted, and Noah smirked at your insinuation.

"Guess we'll just have to take them off, then?", he suggested and you nodded in reply. The room fell into a comfortable silence, only your breaths could be heard, and the ocen in the distance, from the open balcony door.

Noah's fingers danced over your stomach, up your arms and collarbone, finally reaching the straps of your bra, and slipping them off your shoulders one at a time. You held your breath when he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

"Breath, baby. It's just me", he whispered in the space between you, and you let out a breath, smiling up at him and meeting his eyes to see him smiling back at you.

You grabbed one of his hand, placing it in the hem of your panties, silently asking for him to take it off, and he complied. You kept your eyes on him and you could see his composure faltering a bit when his eyes fell on your naked form.

His head leaned down to plant kisses all over your top half, walking you backwards to let you sit on the bed. His large hand massaged one of your breasts, as his mouth sucked on the other one.

You threw your head back at the sensation, moving your hand to rest on his hair, combing your fingers through it, trying to anchor yourself so you wouldn't go crazy from the feeling of his lips on you.

Noah alternated his movements, and you could already feel the wetness between your legs. You spread them open slightly, an invitation for him to move his lips lower, and he caught on, moving his kisses to your stomach and down your navel.

You laid back on the bed, his hands gripping the back of your kness, spreading your legs further part.

Noah inhaled sharply when he saw you exposed in front of him, your already glistening cunt begging for his attention. He swiped his thumb over your slit, and your body jerked from the sensation, and he could hear your silent whimper from where you were laying.

He situated himself on the floor, in front of you, and placed his mouth where you needed him the most.

The feeling was new and unlike anything you've ever felt before. You tried to hold back, but you could feel your orgasm building rapidly from the feeling of his warm mouth. You were so worked up from the moment in the ocean, that in just a couple of minutes, you were grabbing his hair and distancing his face from your center.

"What's wrong, baby?", he asked, resting his head on your thigh.

"I'm almost there already", you said, breathless.

"Then let me make you cum"

"It's too early", you noted, but he shook his head.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let yourself cum on my mouth, yeah? I want it", he placed a few kisses on the inside of your thigh, before running his tongue over your clit once again.

It only took a few laps to get you writhing underneath him. Noah placed his hand on your stomach to try and keep you in place. The moans falling from your lips the prettiest sound he's ever heard.

Once you calmed down a bit, he made his way up your body to see your face resting in complete bliss, eyes closed and chest moving up and down rapidly.

You opened your eyes to meet his, raising your head off the bed to place your lips on his, tasting yourself on his tongue. Once you separated, you noticed he still had his briefs on.

His fingers were absentmindedly running up and down your arm, when you grabbed them and placed a kiss on the tip of his fingers. After, you opened your mouth to let your tongue run over his middle and ring finger.

Noah thought it was impossible for his dick to get any harder, but every second it went by, you proved him wrong. Especially when you slipped two of his fingers inside your mouth, sucking on them while maintaining eye contact.

"I want your cock in my mouth", you said, letting a trail of spit run down your chin.

"Fuck, you can have everything you want, baby", Noah muttered, stading up to take his underwear off.

You kneeled on the bed when he laid down, straddling his legs and taking his length in your hands, stroking up and down. Noah tried to keep his eyes on you, but the sensation was too overwhelming, and he soon found his eyes screwing shut when you placed your open lips on his tip.

You didn't waste much time, taking him inch by inch and coating his dick with your saliva, moving your head up and down.

Noah's head was spiraling, and he couldn't help but grab your hair in his hand, helping your movements along. His dick twitching when you moaned around him.

"Not gonna last long", he said, voice constricted and a beautiful blush coating his cheek and chest.

"It's ok, let yourself cum in my mouth. I want it", you threw his earlier words back at him with a smirk on your lips, and a few seconds later, his body shuddered under you, legs going stiff and his warm cum coated your tongue, and you did everything you could to swallow it, even though a little was dripping down your chin.

His body laid slack on the bed, and you moved your body to lay beside him.

"I think you sucked the soul out of my body", he noted, eyes still closed and head trying to wrap around what just happened. You giggled at his remark, shaking your head even though you knew he couldn't see it.

After a few seconds, Noah deemed himself human enough again to roll over and get on top of you. You could feel his still hard dick resting just above your navel, and the though that he was about to be inside of you made you lift your hips up, looking for a little more friction.

"Someone's eager", he teased you, you only nodded and let out a little gasp when you felt his tip slipping inside.

"Ok", Noah said, trying to steel himself, as he rested his head on your chest, feeling himself slip inside of you little by little. You were letting out little gasps and clutching on to his back, and before long, he was finally fully inside you.

"Fuck, it feels so good", you whined, wanting him to move already.

"Fucking feels like this pussy was made for me", Noah grunted into your neck and started to move back and forth, lifting himself up to rest on his elbows. The feeling of your warm and wet cunt swallowing him whole made him never move from his place inside of you.

You hooked both of your ankles over his back, changing the position and you moaned when you felt him get even deeper.

With all restraints gone, his movements picked up pace and the sound of skin on skin filled the room, along with the noises Noah coaxed from your lips.

"God, you feel so fucking good", you heard him say, as he grabbed your bum, lifting you slightly from the bed, making you meet his harsh thrusts.

You could feel the hotness building in your core as he kept slamming in and out of you.

"I'm gonna cum", your voice stuttered a bit, and his was just as wrecked as yours.

"Me too, baby. C'mon, give it to me. Want to feel you squeezing round me", he slipped a hand in between your bodies, and started to rub your clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck....", you grabbed the pillow under your head as your body spasmed on the bed, the feeling taking over your body like hot lava.

"Fuck, I'm cumming", Noah grunted above you and his thrusts faltered a bit before the feeling of his release spilling inside of you warmed your insides. You think you could cum again just from the sensation.

"Wait here", Noah said after a few seconds of resting on top of you, as his wobbly legs made their way to the bathroom, and he came back with a towel in hand, cleaning up the mess in between your legs.

"We should take advantage of that nice tub in there", you suggested and Noah clearly agreed, getting in the bathroom again to try and figure out the perfect water temperature.

Before long, you were both soaking in the tub, bubbles coming up to your chin, as you rested your back against Noah's chest.

"You know what Jade told me at the party?", Noah said, softly.

"What?"

"She told me that I looked at you as if you hung the stars and the moon in the sky"

"That's the nicest thing she's ever told you", you joked a little.

"True", he smiled at your remark. "It's funny how everyone already knew we would end up here, but us", he mused, fingers smoothing over your hair.

"I think we would've realized at some point", your head craned back a little and you looked at him, his head already leaning down to meet your eyes.

"I'm glad it was now", he grabbed your chin, making you smile.

"Me too"

Your lips met once more in a sweet kiss, both of you conveying how much you meant to each other.

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