#he just can't endure his boyfriend to be hurt at all

[wangmiao]

Excuse me. His hand was injured badly...

Black Out (2024) Ep 14

[uravichii]

"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

[iid-smile]

megumi would...

if you were dating them series.

get flustered if you casually mention your relationship to others. he would turn his head away, or hide his face with the collar of his uniform, concealing his bright red cheeks. this is most apparent when you directly refer to him as your boyfriend instead of his name. and you don't even hesitate? god, he's burning up. he'd be too shy to say something like that himself, and only refers to you by your name. if the relationship is secret, then he'd say your surname instead of your given name.

insist he's fine after missions. he could literally be required to rest in bed for his injuries, but still say he's okay to go on that date the two of you have been planning for a while. he'll endure the pain for your sake, and swear that the bandages and plasters on his body don't even hurt (they do). he won't stop until you seriously get upset about how stubborn he's being, and only then will he admit that the wounds hurt a bit.

let you try his coffee. he always drinks it black, and, if you don't like black coffee, you somehow manage to make the mistake of asking to take a sip. honestly, he'd share anything with you if you ask, so he does say yes, knowing full well you'll find it too bitter. if you don't have a drink for yourself, he'll buy you something sweet to make up for it, or even make one himself, like hot chocolate. then, you two can enjoy your respective drinks together.

lighten up his tone when talking to you. everybody can tell too. he himself wouldn't notice unless someone else pointed it out. it just comes naturally to him, probably from his fear of making you upset with how blunt he can be. it's the most visible when he's in a conversation with you and someone like itadori or gojo, then his voice is changing all the time. yes, he does feel a bit stupid, but he can't help it. if the two of you are on public transport and sitting next to each other, he'd rather whisper than talk normally.

let you choose whatever you guys decide to eat. he's not the pickiest eater, so most of the time he's fine with whatever. unbeknownst to him, you usually do pick something that goes well with ginger, his favourite, and he's under the impression that he gets lucky every time with what you choose. he does the same thing, and when you do want him to pick, it's always your favourite food or restaurant.

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

[minniesfiles]

{MINGYU} FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

ᯓ★ VOL. 1

(note; each volume has 15 fic recs)

[a] - angst

[f] - fluff

[s] - smut

❖ hits different — by @gyuswhore

Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape. Or; in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off. | 40k [a, f]

❖ creep — by @smileysuh

“If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. | 9.1k [s]

❖ untitled — by @tonicandjins

2.6k [a]

❖ one last time — by @tonicandjins

you receive an invitation for the worst day of your life. | 10.9k [a]

❖ right time — by @thedensworld

you both were too young when you get together, right person-wrong time. Two years after break up, destiny brought you two again. | ? [a]

❖ did you hear what the rumor said? — by @97linelover

Dating as Idols means, keeping it a secret. Rumors will spread, people will get hurt. What if this one Rumor brings you over the edge and you no longer can handle this Secret? | 1.4k [a, f]

❖ beautiful liar — by @onlymingyus

Kim Mingyu's life has always been complicated, but you just add another layer. At least he is a beautiful liar. | 25.6k [a, f]

❖ thirsty — by @cheolism

joshua sends you a photo of your boyfriend wearing a tank top while working out and you just can't help but thirst. | 5.2k [s]

❖ goodbye — by @tonicandjins

3.1k [a]

❖ evening glow — by @cheolhub

you're having a horrible, no good, very bad day and mingyu wants to do everything he can to make it better. | 4.5k [s, a, f]

❖ statistically speaking — by @gyuswhore

In all your years of academic endurance, you've never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn't know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,...it could. | 21k [s, a, f]

❖ mingyu is so mean when he’s horny — by @gyuspell

? [s]

❖ backburner — by @saythenametotheworld

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him. | 21k [f, a, s]

❖ still yours — by @number1mingyustan

When you're with him, the time around you ceases to exist. You've got your own little bubble that's immune to reality where he's just yours. | 5.1k [f, s]

❖ i can do it for you — by @hoshifighting

After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch. | 8k [s, f]

[bratbby333]

two is better than one

gojo x fem!reader x geto ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ nsfw mdni warnings: Threesome, drug use, language, praise/degradation, name-calling, rough sex, mild voyeurism, creampie synopsis: Newly single and looking for trouble, you find yourself in between two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. word count: 5.2k

“Fucking prick,” you seethe, taking yet another shot of tequila down.

Your skin is burning, and it’s not just from the liquor coursing through your veins. You’re fuming. Your boyfriend of two years dropped the ball on you earlier this week.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he states. "And I haven't for a while." He avoids your gaze. What a pussy. He’s seemingly so sure of this statement, yet still attempts to hide from confrontation. Typical. 

This isn’t the first time he’s done this. It doesn’t hurt like it used to, though. It’s a toxic, cyclical pattern you’ve endured for years, and somehow grown accustomed to.

You look at the ground and can't help but laugh, shaking your head. You meet his gaze again, your eyes swimming with rage and disappointment, and head to your shared bedroom to pack some of your belongings. 

You pack as much as you can into a suitcase, and as you head to the door, you turn to face him one last time. 

"I'll be back later this week to get the rest of my stuff," rolling your eyes at him as you depart. There was no reason to fight this anymore.

To others, you seem heartless and cruel for the way you handled this situation. The truth is, you hadn’t been present in the relationship since the last time this happened. You anticipated the end from the moment he offered to "try again". You knew he'd never change, and you were too weak to leave first.

You blame yourself for putting up with his neglect for so long. You’re ashamed that you allowed him back in time and time again. Each time he walked away, it was you who was left to pick up the pieces. 

It’s time to take control of your life again, but why not have some fun first? Everyone copes in different ways, and tonight, your vices come out to play. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You’re unsure of how many drinks you’ve had thus far, let alone how high your tab was now, but you couldn’t care less. 

All you want is to feel nothing at all. 

You rub the furrowed area between your eyebrows tentatively, stomach burning with liquor. “I need a cigarette,” you grumble.

Outside, you lean against the brick wall of the club, feeling the bass still pounding in your chest. Your ears are ringing from the change in volume, your eyes readjusting to the yellow cast of a nearby streetlight that contrasted the dim lights of the club. You don’t notice the dark man join you along the wall as you pull the cigarette cartridge from your purse.

“Need a light?” His voice is sultry and low, almost inaudible. 

Your eyes meet his and you raise your eyebrow at him, as if to let him know you’re wary of him, but nod and lean forward with the cigarette in your mouth, eyeing him the whole time. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and flicks the gear with his thumb. You inhale deeply and lean back, head tilted to rest against the wall again, then exhaling gently towards the night sky. 

Your eyes fall back on the mystery man as he sparks a cigarette for himself. He’s alarmingly handsome. Tall and dark. Broad, strong shoulders. Alluring. You can’t help but stare. 

He catches your gaze and you see a smirk curl at the edge of his lips. You feel a warming sensation run throughout your body, flushing your cheeks, and this time it wasn’t due to the tequila. 

“Suguru,” he states with a soft smile. 

“Y/N,” you respond. 

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here when all the fun's inside?” he inquired. 

You roll your eyes at the corny nature of his question.

“Nursing a broken heart, if I’m honest,” you breathed out, looking away again and taking another drag from your half-smoked cigarette. 

Suguru nods, sensing you don't want to open up about it. He takes a puff of his own preroll.

You make small talk as you both work on finishing your cigarettes, enjoying a break from the noise in the cool, quiet evening. 

"Are you just now getting here?", you ask, trying to distract yourself from the inappropriate ache in your core caused by a man you've only just met. 

"Yeah, my friend and I are just trying to blow off some steam after work," he replies, taking another puff. 

"What do you do for work?" you ask, intrigued, wanting to know as much as you possibly can about the mysterious man standing before you.

"I'm a teacher."

"Nothing nobler than education. I commend you," you respond teasingly, tilting your head. He chuckles in response.

A teacher, you think. There's something sexy about a patient man who can lead, command, and discipline. 

There's a lull in the conversation, so you take the time to really drink him in. Finishing your cigarette, you notice how his sharp, defined features juxtapose the soft feathering of his long hair. He's unreal. He reciprocates, taking in every angle and curve of your face. Something unspoken is floating around the two of you, and after a few moments, Suguru breaks the tensioned silence.

"Your ex is a dumbass," he bites. "I would want nothing more than to fill your life with pleasure," he breathes out, seemingly frustrated. You smile. You hadn't been complimented in months. 

"You deserve to be worshipped..." he adds, pausing between his words. You watch Suguru's eyes run along your body once again. He admired the way your tight dress hugged you, clinging to your waist before tapering out at your hips. You curved so effortlessly, so beautifully.... "and simultaneously destroyed."

Suguru couldn't take it anymore. He needed to feel you. 

He closed the distance between the two of you, his hands finding your waist, effectively pinning you against the wall. 

You bring your arms up to wrap around him instinctively, resting your wrists against the back of his neck. You inhale deeply. He smells divine. 

You gaze up at him, eyes wide. The sudden close proximity catches you off-guard. The difference in size and height between the two of you sends another pulse to your core. You're touch-starved. You couldn't remember that last time you and your ex had been intimate.

He chuckles softly at your reaction. Shit, you think, can he tell I'm getting turned on?

Feeling bold and newly free, you look from his lips to his eyes and back again. 

Message received.

He crashes his lips into yours. You moan at the force, prompting Suguru to trace your bottom lip with his tongue. The sensation between your legs only grows hotter. 

A grown escapes his soft lips, hands clawing hungrily along each others bodies, tongues battling for control, the shared taste of cigarettes and liquor making it even more arousing. Your bodies are fully flush against one another, one of his legs wedged between yours. You thrust your hips slowly, grinding against him. The contact against his firm thigh giving you the stimulation you had been craving for months. You moan into his mouth, your pussy throbbing against him. You continue to rut against him, his hands pulling you down to intensify the contact between his clothed thigh and your hot, pulsating core. This carries on for several minutes, but for you two, it feels as though no time has passed.

You pull away from him to catch your breath, eyes low and head dizzy. He groans at the loss of contact, but steps back a bit, allowing you to smooth your hair out and readjust your skin-tight dress. You didn't want him to know how much of an effect he already had on you, but he seemingly already knew after the show you had just put on; Get it together, Y/N. You guys had only just met, for Christ sake, regardless of how badly you wanted him to drill you outside the club. You step closer to him and kiss him deeply once more, pulling away but keeping your faces close. 

"Your taste is addictive, baby," he breathes out, eyes low. You smile to yourself. Let's have some fun, shall we?

"Maybe we'll run into each other again," you seduce, smiling wickedly at him before turning and walking back inside. Suguru huffs a bit, annoyed that you were leaving so soon, his desire for you growing even stronger. But his dark eyes flickered with excitement, watching your hips sway as you depart. Your defiant nature seemed like a challenge. And Suguru loved the chase. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You return to your seat at the bar. Your mind is consumed by the arousing interaction with Suguru. You wanted more. But, after spending two years with someone who wanted nothing more than to leave you, you thought it was only fair for you to be chased this time around. 

You cross one leg over the other in hopes to quell the sensations throbbing deep in your pussy, but it only added additional pressure. You huff softly. I need more tequila, you decide. 

You catch the attention of the bartender with a smile and motion with your finger that you'd like another round. As she returns with your mixed drink and shot, a voice emerges from just over your shoulder. 

"Put her tab on me," the voice states, sternly. The bartender nods, making the requested changes on her handheld system before going to cater to other patrons. 

You turn your head toward the unfamiliar voice, only to be met with the most beautiful pair of eyes you'd ever seen peering over the round frames of his sunglasses. Strikingly blue. He grins down at you, and your breath hitches in your throat, another pulse sent straight to your core. He's gorgeous. Platinum white hair. Tall. Slender. Violently confident and charismatic. Anyone who wears sunglasses at the club is either too intoxicated to make eye contact or just absolutely insufferable. But his seem to suit him perfectly. 

"Hello, beautiful," he smirks. His arm snakes around the back of your chair, his hand rubbing deep circles into your shoulder. You lean into his touch and stifle a moan that threatened to escape your lips, still recovering from your interaction with Suguru. You smile back up at him through your lashes.

"I'm Y/N", you purr, tilting your head slightly with a small smile. With all these beautiful men wanting your attention, you should have called it quits with your ex a long time ago. 

"Satoru," he replies, his free hand taking yours. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently, winking at you. You giggle at the cheesiness of his affections, but it was definitely working. He releases your hand and removes his arm from around your shoulder, taking a seat next to you at the bar. You turn to face him, and you notice him raking his eyes up and down your body, taking in every part of you, before his gaze meets yours again. 

"There has to be a reason why a stunning woman like you is drinking alone at the bar," he says smoothly. 

"I would return the sentiment, but it seems neither of us are alone anymore," you grin, pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

"I appreciate you paying for my drinks," you follow up.

"It's been a while since anyone's done that for me," you say, your appreciation swirling around your words. You sip from the cocktail straw in your drink, gazing deeply into his eyes. 

"Anytime. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to speak to you," he replies. 

You watch as his eyes run up and down your body again. Your cheeks flush and the pulse between your legs picks up again, and you recross your legs in an attempt to hide it. 

But there's no hiding from Satoru.

He leans closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. You glance down, his thumb rubbing gently on your soft flesh. Your breath catches in your throat, and Satoru smirks at the way your body is already responding to him. His mind wanders to what else he could do to you...to the sounds you'd make for him. 

He begins to speak, but before he can get anything out, another voice interjects. 

"I see you've met my friend, Satoru."

You lock eyes with Suguru, who's now standing beside Satoru. You glance between the two of them, panicked. Shit, you think. Not good. You had enough drama in your life from the past two years to last you a lifetime. And of course, being caught between two friends tracks for the kind of luck you have in your life. 

Before you start pleading your case, Satoru speaks up.

"Damn, so you got to her first, huh Suguru?, the white-haired man huffs out, directing his attention toward his friend. Satoru's thumb is still massaging your thigh, squeezing hard, as if to assert dominance.

"Yeah, I did. We had some fun out there didn't we, Y/N?" Suguru retorts, smirking down at you. Your mind wanders back to the way you were using his thigh for your own pleasure. Unsure of how to play this situation, you nod slowly, blushing, still glancing between the friends. Satoru smirks at his friend's comment. 

"So, are you guys going to fight over me or what?" you boldly ask, resting your elbow on the bar top and propping your head up, hoping to regain control of this situation. Satoru chuckles at your statement, glancing up at his friend.

"That won't be necessary, princess," Suguru says teasingly, directing his gaze back to Satoru, who gives a small nod in response. A coy smile spreads across both their faces, looking back at you. Your heart rate quickens and your eyes darken, and while you're unsure of what's in store for you this evening, you can't help but feel aroused. Fuck it...let's have some fun. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Shot after shot cascades down the trio's throats as the night carries on. With the music rattling through your chest and the spotlights bouncing off the walls, you find yourself getting lost in this moment. You felt free. Pure ecstasy courses through your veins. Your back is pressed up against Satoru, grinding your ass in tempo to the music. Suguru is sat in a booth, arms extended along the back of the chair and legs crossed, watching the whole ordeal, his erection becoming more difficult to conceal. 

You tilt your head back against Satoru's shoulder, peering up at him through your lashes, and his arm snakes around you. His hand finds its' way to your neck, massaging it gently. The contact only spurs you on, grinding deeper into Satoru's crotch. You can feel him grow harder against you, his other hand clawing at your hip, pulling you even closer. People lingered around the two of you, the dance floor of the club teeming with sweaty, intoxicated bodies, but it felt as though you and Satoru were the only people on earth. 

Your eyes maneuver through the sea of people around you and lock eyes with Suguru. He's smirking at the two of you. Even with the distance between you, you can tell he's enjoying the show. Maintaining eye contact with Suguru, you run your tongue along your upper teeth, grinding harder against Satoru. You see Suguru shift his weight in the booth, knowing he's getting harder watching the steamy interaction between you and Satoru. 

You turn around to face Satoru, wrapping your arms around his neck. Bringing his face closer to yours, you run your tongue vertically from his bottom lip to his top lip. He groans, grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Your tongues are battling one another for control. Soon after, you feel another body press up against your back, You break the kiss, Satoru removing his hands from around your neck to find your waist. You turn and see a smirking Suguru. He brushes your hair away from one of your shoulders, ducking his head down to gently suck on the soft flesh of your neck. You roll your head back and rest it against his shoulder, eyes lilting closed. You moan at the way his warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, sending chills down your spine.

Satoru pouts a bit, feeling left out. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin back so you can meet his gaze. Your eyes are glazed over, lids low, and Satoru chuckles at how fucked out you already look. He leans down and kisses you deeply again. Suguru is still suckling gently. He breaks away from your neck and brings his lips closer to your ear.

"Are you ready to go, princess?" Suguru asked, feeling you nod desperately against his shoulder, still making out with Satoru.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You're sat between the two men in the back of a cab, heading to the hotel you've been staying in since leaving your ex. Both of their large hands are placed each of your thighs. Your attention is on Suguru, kissing him deeply, tongues lapping against one another. You pull away, a thick trail of spit connecting the two of you. You turn to Satoru and give him the same treatment, mixing all three of your fluids together. Suguru groans at the sight and digs his fingers into your thigh before dragging his hand under your dress and over your panties to meet you in the place you crave him most. He rubs tantalizingly slow circles into your clit, making you rut into his hands.

"Feels so good, doesn't it, princess?" Geto asks you, teasingly.

"Your pussy is so hot for us," he continues, growling into your ear. You try to pull away from Satoru to fall deeper into the feeling of Suguru playing with your pussy, but Satoru grabs you by the back of the neck to prevent you from leaving.

"Stay right here, sweetheart," Satoru mumbles against your lips.

"Be good for us," he groaned out. You moan in response. Satoru's grip on your neck constricts and relaxes over and over, massaging your throat, and the throbbing in your pussy matches the rhythm against Suguru's hand. You place your hand on Satoru's bulge, palming him through his slacks. You mirror your actions against Suguru. You hear Satoru's breath catch in his throat from the sudden contact, and Suguru growls softly into your ear.

"That's it, baby, th-that's it", Suguru slurs out.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

After pulling up to the front of the hotel, Suguru hangs back to pay the driver while you and Satoru stumble up the marble stairs and through the entrance way, not wanting to break the contact between the two of you. You break away for just a second as you pass the woman who checked you in on your first night. You exchange small smiles at one another as you and Satoru walk by, her knowing about the situation that brought you and her to meet. Her eyes widen when Suguru catches up to the both of you and slings his arm around your waist, guiding you and his white-haired friend toward the elevator. Her surprise is soon replaced with elation, and she giggles to herself, happy to see you're finally enjoying yourself. Atta girl, she thinks.

The ride up to the 15th floor feels like an eternity. You're pressed up against Suguru, his back flush with the elevator wall, the two of you making out deeply once again. Satoru is on the opposite wall, palming himself to the scene unfolding in front of him. The doors finally part, and Suguru leans down and picks you up by your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and intertwine your finger behind his neck for support. He walks the two of you out of the elevator, Satoru hot on your tail. At the door, you break away from Suguru's lips to pull your keycard from your small handbag. Handing it to Satoru before reigniting the kiss with Suguru, you hear the lock disengage as he taps it against the keypad and pushes the door open.

Suguru drops you onto the bed before standing upright again, he and Satoru shoulder to shoulder, smirking at each other before peering down at you. The dominate energy of the two of them send chills down your spine.

"Isn't she beautiful, Suguru? I can't wait to ruin her". Your eyes widen at Satoru's brazen remarks. You prop yourself up on your elbows, bringing your thighs back together and blushing at the two of them.

"Don't get shy now, sweetheart, you were such a tease this whole evening," Satoru laughs out, leaning over you.

"You're gonna take what we give you and thank us after we're done with you."

"She's quite the vixen..you should have seen the way she blue balled me outside the club," Suguru growled back in response. His hands find the hem of your dress, dragging it up over your hips as you sit up more so he can fully remove your clothing. Laid out before them in only a black lace thong and matching bra, they drink in the delicious sight. They each remove their outer layers, discarding them across the room, until they're left in only their boxers. You run your eyes up and down each of their bodies. They look delicious. Chiseled from marble.

Suguru climbs onto the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He leans forward and grabs underneath your arms, dragging you up the bed so that your back is flush against his toned chest. You're sat between his legs, his strong, calloused hands holding your thighs apart as Satoru lays himself on the bed, settling his head between you thighs. Your breath hitches at the sight of his pretty blue eyes staring up at you.

Satoru kisses along your thighs, the warmth of his exhales teasing you, purposely skipping over your dripping cunt. You groan, bucking you hips toward his face, only to be held back by Suguru's firm grip on your hips.

"Aht aht, that's not how good girls ask to be pleased," Suguru murmurs into your ear, gripping your hips even tighter.

"Tell Satoru what you want, princess".

"P-please 'Toru, your mouth," you whimper out. Satoru's finger runs up and down your clothed slit, making you buck your hips again.

"You gotta do better than that," Suguru chucked, "Beg for it, sweetheart".

"Please, fuck me with your mouth. I promise to be good. I want to c-cum on your tongue. P-please, Satoru." Without hesitation, your panties are ripped off of you and discarded, Satoru's tongue delicately dancing up and down you slit before taking your swollen, needy clit into his soft lips, sucking hungrily. You tangle your fingers in his blond tresses, pulling gently. Satoru groans into your cunt, the vibrations bringing you even closer to the edge.

"You sound so fu-fucking good 'fa me, baby girl," Satoru stutters out, trying to speak and eat at the same time. "You k-know it's rude to talk with your mouth full, right ahh.. right, Satoru?", you try to retort. Satoru giggles into you and you hear Suguru's chest vibrate against your back with a chuckle.

Suguru's mouth hangs open, the gushing wetness of your pussy and the sounds you're making in response to his best friend devouring you fills the room. It's almost unbearable for Suguru to resist pushing Satoru away and taking you all for himself.

"She's a fiery one, isn't she, Satoru?" Suguru raises an eyebrow at his friend, who peers up from between your legs and nods in response.

"Mhmm, and she tastes so fucking good," Satoru murmurs against you in response, his tongue still thrashing against you. Satoru teases one finger against your hole before plunging it deep inside you. Pumping in and out rhythmically, he finds your g-spot with ease. He massages into you with the rough pads of his long, slender fingers. His lips latch around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking greedily. You feel the coils tightening in your stomach, arching your back away from Suguru.

"I...ahh f-fuck..I'm s-so close, Satoru," you cry out, trying to close your legs around his face. Suguru pries your legs apart and holds them open.

"Let go, baby. C'mon, be a good little slut...cum for him. Show him how good he's making you feel," Suguru whispers in your ear. Satoru pumps his fingers deeper into you, sucking even harder on your clit. The tightness in your tummy finally snaps, eyes rolling back in your head, a small yelp leaving your lips. You feel yourself spray your release all over Satoru's face. His eyes widen in surprise before he laps up everything you give him, relishing in the way your sweet juices coat his tongue. You're shaking as he cleans you up with his tongue, riding the fine line between pleasure and overstimulation.

"Mmmm, you saw that Suguru?" asks Satoru, "We found ourselves a squirter". Satoru's tongue continues to lap you up. Suguru's eyes darken at that. He pulls his digit out of your dripping pussy, presenting it to Suguru so he can taste you, too.

Suguru can't take it anymore. He's been rock hard against your back this whole time, fighting every carnal urge that's raking through his body. When he finally gets a taste of you, the restraint he had been so desperately clinging to snaps. He sucks you off Satoru's fingers hungrily, eyes rolling back in his head at your sweetness.

Satoru scoots back as Suguru pushes you onto your stomach, your chest against the mattress and hips in the air, his head dipping to meet your cunt. He drinks up what Satoru so generously left behind for him before straightening up again, sliding his boxers off. He positions himself behind you, teasing your clit with the head of his thick cock. You groan at the sensation, the aftermath of your first orgasm still making your clit sensitive. You push yourself back against Suguru, only to be stopped by his hands taking a hold of your hips.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart", he says, still teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

"I want you inside me...need to feel you stretch me out...please, Suguru," you beg, trying to push back against him again. Suguru chuckles at this.

"Dirty slut is learning fast isn't she? Being such a good fuck toy for us."

With that, he lines himself up with your dripping hole, and plunges deep into you, giving you no time to adjust to how thick he is as he drives himself deep into you. Your slickness from your orgasm is the only thing saving you from his thickness.

Satoru leans down to kiss you, pulling his boxers off and discarding them. His long cock bounces out and sits rock hard in front of your face. You lick your lips at the sight of his pretty pink head dripping pre-cum, eyes half open, head bouncing from getting fucked into from behind.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart. You're taking me so well. Such a good little slut," Suguru gritted his teeth.

"C-can I please...oh-h fu-fuck...can I please suck you off, Satoru? W-want you to come down my throat," you stumble over your words, trying hard to keep your head upright as Suguru continues to drill into you, ramming directly into your sweet spot, his cock stretching you out so painfully, so perfectly. Satoru moans at your question.

"Thought you'd never ask..go ahead, princess. Be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth." His hand cups the underside of your jaw, keeping your head up for you.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue for Satoru, inviting him in. His hands tangle in your hair, wasting no time before plunging deep into your throat. You gag around his length, eyes watering at the sudden intrusion. Suguru is fucking into you so deeply, his powerful thrust pushing you deeper onto Satoru's length. Gagging and sputtering, you inhale deeply through your nose, adjusting to the pace before opening your throat for Satoru.

"Jesus Christ, she's fucking milking me," Suguru spits out, his unrelenting hips still plowing into you. You can only moan in response, the vibrations running from the back of your throat into Satoru's member, causing him to buck his hip, shoving his cock all the way down your throat.

"Such a pretty mouth..wrapped so tight around me..it's-it's so warm..o-oh fuck," Satoru rambles, one hand on the back of your head, the other under your chin, holding your mouth open for him.

Your stomach begins to tighten up again, and you desperately clench around Suguru. One of his hands leaves your hips and reaches around to start rubbing vicious circles into your clit. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out around Satoru's cock, tears trickling down your face as your second orgasm rakes through you. The sight of you succumbing to Suguru's relentless strokes while choking and moaning around his cock was enough to push Satoru towards his own release, and he bottoms out in the back of your throat before shooting his come into your mouth. His hips sputter and he hunches over, holding your face against his pelvis. Your eyes are rolled back in your head, your own squirting orgasm making it difficult for you to keep upright.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth with a pop, your aching jaw still agape from Suguru continuing to slam into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your chest falls to the bed, unable to keep yourself up anymore, before you're lifted back up by Satoru.

"Stay with us, princess," Satoru coos.

"You're doing so good...let him keep fucking into you. You're taking his cock so well".

Suguru's head falls back, still pounding his hips roughly against your ass.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby," Suguru pants. You turn your head to protest, but before you can utter a word, Satoru's hand covers your mouth.

"Shut up and take my cum, slut. Be a good fuck toy and let me cream you." Suguru says through gritted teeth. You moan against Satoru's hand in response as you feel Suguru release inside of you, his hot, creamy ropes coating your insides. He trusts a few more times, letting your tight cunt milk every last drop out of him. When he pulls out, you feel your foundation waiver and you collapse onto the bed, your head falling into Satoru's lap.

It had been so long since you had a good fuck. You over-anticipated your body's capabilities..you had been out of the game for too long.

"You did so, so good for us, princess," Satoru says, you head resting against his thigh, trying to regain your composure. You can only hum quietly in response, eyes fluttering. The two men look at each other before looking back down at your fucked out body. Satoru rubs your upper back gently as Suguru massages your shaking thighs. You all sat like that for a moment, relishing in the pleasure still coursing through your veins, the hot smell of sex sitting heavy in the room. Suddenly, Suguru's deep, sultry voice cuts through the silence.

"Don't quit on us now, sweetheart. We're just getting started," he taunts.

author notes: whewww..this is my first story to welcome myself back into the content mines. this was a fun one to write. im def gonna do a part two (how would we feel about turning this into a multiple chapter story where y'all end up in a throuple heheheh....too much or no ((are we seeing the vision))?? lmk if im doin too much. but thank you so so so much for reading and engaging. ill be uploading even more soon. if u have any questions, suggestions, or concerns pls message me!!

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—09. Sweet Nothing —word count: 8.5k —warnings: none :) love, mack... sorry. SORRY. you can't even begin to imagine how different my life is from when i last updated. SORRY. technically I got paid to write this lol.

Charles turns up to pre-season testing with a gifted case on his phone. It’s from Reid, FORZA CHARLES written in his best handwriting, colored red with his new set of crayons from his birthday. It’s been on his phone since the five-year-old gifted it to him because Reid was too excited about it for Charles to do anything but put it on. 

Reid had carefully explained that it was a good luck charm—but that Charles is not allowed to be mad if it didn’t have enough luck, since he had to rush to make it before Charles had to leave. 

Reid had played it so incredibly cool ( see: jumping around Chris' kitchen after school squealing like a baby pig ) when Chris had shown him a picture of Charles with the phone case on in the paddock. There’s a certain softness that she feels watching his excitement over something so small, something that gets this kid so incredibly excited because he thinks Charles is so cool. There’s something soft, and there’s also something so incredibly terrifying about it. That she let Reid develop this relationship—even if oh-so-small—with Charles, because now if it goes wrong, if it sours… not only is it going to screw her up in the head royally, but now she’s going to have to explain it to Reid, too. To break his heart, too. She thinks Charles is completely clueless as to the amount of people he’s got completely wrapped around his finger. 

Reid, in all his pure and unadulterated joy, insists that Chris call him up so Reid can share in the joy with her boyfriend--because no matter how many times she attempts to explain it to the kid, he can’t fathom the idea of timezones. 

Chase has always been so good at navigating them, even though he has ever been only, at most, a few hours off the time at home. He’s never missed a bedtime story or a goodnight kiss if he could help it. They’ve always been so good at it, him and Hannah, that Reid is truly unable to conceptualize why someone away at a race can’t talk on the phone with him. 

“He’s sleeping, Reid,” Chris says, shaking her head, and taking her phone back from his grubby hands. “I’m not calling him in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not the middle of the night!” He protests, and he’s not wrong. “It’s just after school time.”

Chris sighs. “But he’s not here. He’s somewhere far away, remember? We talked about this before he left?”

“No! Facetime him!”

She rolls her eyes. They go back and forth for some time like that, her arguing with a five-year-old about time zones. It’s only becoming clearer that there are only two ways for this to end. Either Reid throws the fit of all fits until Hannah gets off work to come pick him up, or Chris calls Charles. If she hadn’t spent all day already keeping five-year-olds from throwing a tantrum, she might have had the strength to endure another grumpy kid. But, she had spent the day on eggshells, so she makes the call and hopes his phone is turned off so it doesn’t wake him up. 

Despite her hopes, he answers, even though it’s past midnight there. She’s apologizing before she can even make out the shape of his face on the dark screen. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. His voice is groggy and sleepy and he speaks through a yawn, shaking his head in a dismissal of her apology. “Es-tu…” he groans. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” She quips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Reid just wanted to say hello. I promise it won’t be more than a minute.” Momentarily, she considers shoving her nephew into the pantry where it’s dark. Where the bright light of Chris’ kitchen isn’t going to hurt Charles’ eyes in the dark of his room.  

“It’s okay,” he smiles, and God. God, he looks so sleepy and sweet and if she didn’t feel so horribly guilty for waking him up, she’d be thinking about how badly she wants to kiss him. He turns on a lamp and cringes at the brightness of it. Her wince is disguised as a smile. “Where is he?”

Here, she says, handing the phone off to Reid, a half-scold, half-warning leaving her lips in the form of be quick. He grabs her phone with the heel of both his palms, keeping his greasy snack fingers off her screen, setting it down with a light clatter onto the countertop, forehead peeking in at the bottom of the screen. “Hi, Chuck!” Reid greets. “Auntie Chris says you’re sleeping!” he giggles. 

“Auntie Chris was right,” Charles laughs softly, and now she just wants to kiss him. She doesn’t get to see him sleepy nearly as much as she’d like to, as much as other girlfriends get to see their boyfriends sleepy. 

She manages to swallow the guilt gnawing away at her bones, silence the already rehearsed apologies she’ll be uttering the next time they speak, and just listens fondly to Charles entertaining Reid. He's so patient. So kind in his efforts to get close with her family. He doesn’t have to do that—seriously. Most people wouldn’t talk to their girlfriend’s nephew on the phone in the middle of the night. Then again, most people wouldn’t fly a quarter of the way around the world for that same nephew’s fifth birthday party—or travel that same distance for a family wedding on a fifth date. In fact, most people would be so put off by the idea of having to do those things, they would never in a million years entertain the idea of dating someone who lives around the world. Most people wouldn’t, and yet. Charles would. Charles does. Each and every time, he does. 

— — —

“So, he comes up to me, right?” She laughs, “I’m trying to give a reading test, and he walks up, and I almost tell him to go sit back in his seat because he’s supposed to be silent reading,” She continues. It’s 12:03 am, at least that’s what her microwave clock tells her. It’s 12:03 am in Georgia and when they’d gotten on Facetime twenty-one minutes ago, he’d told her exactly two things. 

One—the car is shit. Two—I don’t want to talk about it. 

So, she didn’t ask any questions and instead launched into the story she’d been anxiously waiting to tell him all about since it had happened that morning at school.

“But before I can say anything,” she explains to her phone camera—to him, on the other side of the globe— “He says, ‘Um, Miss Elliott, um, my tooth falled out,’' She grins, and Charles matches her expression because even across continents it’s a contagious smile. It was the first time any of her students had lost a tooth in class, and the room proceeded to erupt into chaos, she would continue to tell him. “It was crazy,” she laughs. “I didn’t know what to do with him.”

“So what did you do?” Charles asks, laughing himself. 

“I took him and his tooth down to the office,” she says, half out of breath. “And I let them handle it. I was way out of my depth. The nurse brought him back like, ten minutes later with a plastic tooth necklace that held the tooth all day.”

— — —

Chris is cozied up on the couch with Bean, babysitting the dog for her parents while they traveled to Vegas for her brother’s race when Charles DNFs in Bahrain. 

Her heart sinks, through the couch and through the floor and deep into her non-existent basement. It might even go all the way through the world and into Australia to wait for Charles to get there in a few weeks. 

Once he’s out of the car and they show him on camera, he looks so annoyed. Defeated and annoyed in a way she isn’t sure she’s ever seen him, and like he could use a hug. A bear hug. She wants to stick her arms through the television and around him and hug him and kiss him and make him laugh and get that look off his face. She wants the car to turn into a person she can fight. To kiss him all over and run her finger through his helmet hair until he forgets about it for a little while. To tell him how she’s sorry. And how she. How she… how she likes him so much. 

How, maybe someday. Someday, in a vast and distant future, she loves him so much that it scares her to think about for more than a moment. How—again, maybe someday in a timeline she can't imagine yet—she thinks of him constantly. How he’s burrowed his way into her skin and how every time she sees the color red she doesn’t think of it as angry or harsh or mean, she just thinks of him. 

How she loves him, maybe, and it’s wholly terrifying. She hates that she loves him, maybe, because she knows it’s only a matter of time. She’d really, truly hoped he would come to his senses before it got to this point, this drowning slowly in his honey words and soft smile, hoped that he would have found her too much and too messy and not worth all the energy and time and money. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t, and now she loves him, maybe, and has nowhere to put all this fear. 

She waits for him to call her, and he does, hours later when it’s got to be the middle of the night there. She can’t keep the time difference straight and has googled it at least half a dozen times today alone. 

“Did you watch?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound defeated, not like he had during testing. He sounds… dejected, if anything but normal. 

“Yeah,” she says, even though there wasn’t much to watch. 

“They’re saying on Twitter I looked hot,” he chuckles, and it puts a soft smile on her face. She pulls her knees to her chest, picking at the lint on the knees of her leggings. “At least I have that going, huh?”

“You always look hot,” she says, her smile growing.

“True,” he says, and he follows it with a laugh. An honest to god laugh that makes her heart swell. 

“Besides the obvious,” she says, adjusting in her seat, “It was a good race.”

“It was definitely not a good race,” he chuckles. 

Chris continues to pick at her leggings. They’re covered in lint from her blanket and hair from the dog. “Well, I thought it was good. I know you didn’t finish, but… if you had,” she smiles gently. He was on track for a podium. If he had finished. 

“But I didn’t,” He sighs himself into a perfect frown. 

“Eh,” she waves it off with her hand. “Semantics, semantics. Rose and thorn.”

“Rose and thorn,” he nods, quirking a brow. “What is rose and thorn?”

“Oh,” she shrugs, “you know. Like… take the good with the bad? The rose and the thorn,” she explains. “You were having a good race—rose. You didn’t finish the race—thorn.”

“Ah,” he says, his head dropping down into a chuckle. “Rose and thorn, yes.”

— — —

One thing you learn when you’re the aunt of a five-year-old little leaguer is that every single team is actually just a major league baseball team rebranded for whatever city these elementary schoolers are playing in. Same names, same logos—sometimes they’ll change the color scheme, but sometimes they can get away with keeping it. In Reid’s case, they kept even the color scheme. 

Chris supposes this makes her outfit choice for his season opener significantly easier. It’s sunny and sixty-five degrees and Chris is wearing a Detroit Tigers sweatshirt—Navy blue with a white old English D embroidered on the front—and a pair of blue jeans. Reid’s tee-ball team is oh-so derivatively named the Dawsonville Tigers. 

It’s Reid’s third year playing baseball, his third year playing tee-ball. Next year, he’ll get to move up to the real little league, which will only give Chase and Hannah a million more practices and tournaments, and games to travel to. Reid is counting down the days until he gets to play with the bigger kids. Chase and Hannah… not so much. 

They, along with the rest of the family, have grown relatively attached to the comedy show of a bunch of preschoolers chasing baseballs around a bunch of gravel. Chase is an assistant coach, and he’s been swearing up and down in the family group chat that at least ten of the fifteen kids on the team know they’re supposed to run to first base after they hit a fair ball. At least ten of them, and the coaches are working hard to get the other five on track as soon as possible. 

Chris and Hannah sit in folding camping chairs behind the fencing catching up while they watch the show, sipping boxed wine from Hannah’s secret purse-stash in their matching YETI wine tumblers. 

The conversation starts with a rundown of the team this year—of the moms, more importantly. Which ones Hannah likes, and which ones look at her like she’s still a nineteen-year-old with a baby she doesn’t know what to do with. It’s a common thing for Hannah, even now that she’s got a settled career and a house and a whole life with Chase. It doesn’t matter, not to the bitter southern housewives with nothing better to do than spend their time hating other women. 

It starts there. And somehow, with the quick exclamation of Oh! You’ll never believe what Miss Julie told me about Kacie! The two girls are deep in gossip about someone from high school’s relationship. It always seems to go like this, when Hannah gets this endless well of gossip from work, from the hours spent waiting for bleach to process and colors to develop in the salon. 

“But wait, forget about that!” Hannah laughs. “How’s Charles!? Your dad said he had a shit race?”

Chris furrows her brows, swallowing a sip of wine. “My dad knows how his race went?” She asks, and Hanah shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he did,” she chuckles. “Power unit issues, even though they literally replaced the battery and the ECU that morning.  They have to replace the whole thing, so he’s going to have to take a penalty next race too,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “For the ECU that they just replaced.”

Hannah scowls. “That’s fucked,” she laughs, covering her mouth, doing a poor job at concealing her wine giggles. “He’s coming to visit in a couple weeks, right?”

“Mmhm,” Chris hums. “He’s like…” she laughs, “so geeked out about coming to one of these games. I told him they’re so boring, but. He’s adorable.”

“I’m sure he’s more geeked about other things,” Hannah teases, playfully shoving Chris’ shoulder. “Long distance fucking sucks for the sex life,” she giggles. Chris blushes bright red, holding her hands up in surrender before taking a long sip of wine and asking for a refill. 

Chandler shows up somewhere between the third wine tumbler and the fourth inning of the baseball game. She’s in her work clothes, complete with the kitten heels that sink into the muddy grass with every step she takes. She taps the opposite shoulder of Chris that she stands behind, and Chris falls for it, turning back the other way to see her, to smile genuinely because they haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other yet, haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other since they last saw the other at Chase and Hannah’s wedding.

“Are you still with that guy?” She asked, from her seat in Chris’ camping chair. She felt too bad watching her heels sink in and out of the mud, so now she leans against the fencing while Chandler sits. “The French one?”

Chris nods, her arms crossed over her chest. “Monegasque,” she corrects. “But yes. Still together.”

“Hmm,” Chandler hums curiously, picking at her cuticles. “Are you ever going out to see him?” She asks. 

“Uh,” Chris sighs, dragging her toe through the gravel, drawing harsh lines and kicking up dust. “I’m gonna fly out for spring break,” she says. “But he wants me away from Monaco.”

“He wants you to stay away?” Chandler asks, and Chris doesn’t miss the tone of voice, eyes darting to Hannah to confirm the condescending tone she already knows she heard. Hannah closes her eyes before she can roll them, and takes a sip of her wine, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs. 

“Not like that, Chan, come on,” Chris sighs. “I don’t want to be there. We don’t want to be there. It’s too hard, everyone knows him there and we don’t want anyone to know me.”

“So, he’s hiding you?”

“No,” Chris shakes her head, pursing her lips together. “We’re being private. He’s trying to protect me.”

“Alright,” Chandler chuckles, putting her hands up in defense. “I’m just saying, I never would have hidden Lex.”

Chris’ head physically recoils, forcing a scoff out of her mouth. Hannah laughs, too. “You literally hid Lex for two years,” Hannah says. “Like, genuinely you hid her from all of us.”

“That’s different,” Chandler argues. “I wouldn’t have hidden her if she was a man.”

“And Charles wouldn’t be ‘hiding’ me,” She says, forced air quotes around the word she can’t come up with a synonym for. “If every woman he interacts with wasn’t crucified,” she defends. “Can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt, Jesus.” Chandler rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, answering texts or emails or whatever else is so pressing as a distraction from the current conversation. “Seriously?”

“What?” Chandler spits, rolling her eyes. “I’m just looking out for you, Chris. You don’t have the greatest track record with guys, so forgive me for being hesitant to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Chris bites her tongue, literally, and purses her lips. She nods, watching the dead serious look in her sister’s eyes with a glare of equal intensity. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of death stares, Chris puts a pretty smile on her face. “I’m really happy you came all this way, Chandler,” she grins, slipping her phone into her back pocket. “I’m sure Reid will be thrilled to see you,” she continues. “He missed you at his birthday party,” she adds, squeezing her sister’s shoulder as she passes, walking away and kicking up gravel when she does it. 

Saudi Arabia is no better. He has a great qualifying, but he also has that pesky grid penalty and a Ferrari that just doesn’t seem to have anything even close to race pace. The car just feels… so undriveable. So unpredictable. One corner it’s all oversteer, and the next it’s a completely different car, fully understeery. It’s just. It’s terrible, really, and he’s known it since the first time he got in the car. 

It doesn’t help that he spends the whole race stuck behind Carlos, who seems to have just as much pace as he does. He calls Chris that night, so fucking angry, and she gets an earful, one that he immediately apologizes for dumping on her after he’s gotten it all out. 

“It's okay,” she tells him. “I’m just glad that your bad days don’t line up with mine,” she joked, and he laughed because it’s impossible not to laugh at her jokes, even when he feels like shit. “Better days are coming,” she promised, and he wanted to believe her, but he also knew this car inside and out. 

“Not soon enough,” he told her, and she smiled. He can’t get enough of her smile. 

“Patience, grasshopper,” she teased, holding up both her hands in a meditative pose, humming out an ommm. 

“You are so dumb,” he giggles. 

“Oh, please,” she says, opening her eyes, relaxing again. “You love me.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence. So heavy that it can’t even be blamed on FaceTime lag. 

His brain is malfunctioning; heart racing, palms clammy, entire body sweating thinking she knows. Thinking he’s been entirely too obvious about it and not done nearly as good of a job as he thought. You should tell her. You should tell her. Yes. Yes, I do love you. I love you so much I don’t know how to tell you. I love you so much that I’m scared telling you is going to mess it all up. 

He can’t tell her like this, though. Not now, when he’s halfway around the whole and every nerve of his body is frustrated.  No, it needs to be when he’s with her. Not over the phone. He’s completely clueless as to when or where or what the right time is, but he knows this sure as hell isn’t it. 

So, he stays quiet. Because he’s sure if he speaks he’s going to just blurt it all out, and he hasn't kept his mouth shut this long just to say it like this. She’ll have to break the silence. It feels like it takes an eternity for her to do it. 

“So, uh, what time does your flight land here, again?” She asks, and his shoulders loosen just a bit. 

“Yeah,” he nods, wondering if she can hear his heartbeat through the phone. It seems like it’s the only thing he can hear. “Sorry, uh. Yeah. Let me look,” he says, grabbing his phone from its propped-up place on the hotel coffee table and scrolling through it to find his ticket to Georgia. “Five… ish.”

“What time do you leave?”

“Eight-something?” He says, still looking at the flight information. 

“What time is it now?” She asks. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He’s been making a habit of losing track of time with her. “Late.”

“Go to sleep,” she says, her voice playing out of his phone speakers softly. He smiles at her voice, at her instructions, at the fact she cares enough to tell him to go to sleep. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then salutes her for good measure. 

“Merci,” she giggles in butchered French, and his ears perk up like a puppy, a grin painting itself onto his face. 

“Oh?” He laughs. ““Tu parles français maintenant, n'a pas? fille drôle, je pourrais te dire ce que je veux et tu ne sauras jamais mieux,” You speak french now, do you? Silly girl, I could say whatever I want to you and you wouldn’t know any better. 

“Goodnight,” she says, ignoring the French they both know she can’t even begin to translate in her mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he nods. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Miss Elliott has to leave right after the bell today, friends,” Chris hums, leaning against the front of her classroom desk, holding a stack of school newsletters. “Do you think we can get our room nice and clean before the end of the day?” She asks, smiling and nodding at the spattering of little yeses and nods. “Okay,” she grins, pointing to the whiteboard. “All of our tasks are on the big board,” she explains, running through each table and their room assignments. 

The class stays about on task as a herd of twenty-something five-year-olds possibly can, with Chris reminding them to stay on task—and reminding them what their task is—from her seated spot on the group rug, cleaning up the class library with a couple of other students. 

“Where are you going to, Miss Elliott?” Quinn asks her, handing over a book. 

“I have to go to Atlanta,” Chris hums, putting the book on the correct shelf. “Do you know where Atlanta is?”

Quinn nods, handing over another book from the pile on the floor. “Far away.”

“It’s not soooo far,” Chris smiles.

“I just have a uncle there.”

“Oh yeah? That’s nice. Do you ever go visit him?” Chris asks. 

Quinn doesn’t answer the question. “Does you have an uncle in Atlanta?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “I have to pick someone up at the airport.”

“Your boyfriendddd?” Quinn giggles, dragging out the letter sounds teasingly. 

“A boyfriend?!” Chris grins, laughing. “You think I have a boyfriend? I spend all my time at school with you!”

“No!” She laughs. “Landry sayed you have a cute boyfriend!”

“What?” Chris giggles, snatching a book from Quinn playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, crazy girl.”

— — —

With the help of her students, Chris manages to get the room put together for the next morning in less than fifteen minutes after the end of the school day, checking Charles’ flight tracking one more time before setting off from the parking lot to the airport an hour away. 

He emerges from the sliding doors of his terminal with his bags and a bouquet of flowers. Chris is shaking her head, cheeks already half-pink and mind more than half-melted when she hastily parks against the curb, popping her trunk and hurrying around the back of the car to greet him properly. 

“Get in the car,” she giggles, “before they start honking at us!” she says, but Charles couldn’t care less about the angry airport goers behind him, leaving his suitcase on the curb, waiting with his arms already open and a tired, jet-lagged smile on his face. 

Chris resists the urge to just throw his entire body into the car and speed away from the terminal, instead hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his frame, slipping into the space between him and his backpack, the plastic casing from the flowers crinkling against her back when he hugs her just as tight. 

He kisses her hair hastily, “Hi,” he mumbles, watching her lips carefully. 

“Hi,” she smiles, giddy. “Eyes up here, brother,” she teases. 

Charles scowls, dropping his backpack off his shoulder and lifting it up into the trunk. “Do not call me brother.”

“Too incest-y?”

“I can get another plane,” he teases, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, and hoisting his suitcase off the curb with his other hand. 

“Go visit one of your other girls?” She asks, pressing the button on the top of the hatch to close the trunk. 

“See?” He laughs, parting from her just long enough for both of them to get into the car. “You get it,” he says, closing the car door and quickly reaching over the center console to pull Chris into a kiss, muttering something about you did not really think I was not going to kiss you?

It’s a familiar speech he’s given that morning, the same one she’d carefully handed out when he was here months ago. The be safe, don’t get eaten by a bear lecture. That’s not where it ends, though. Chris continues to go on and on and on about her Mom’s birthday party that evening—one of the many reasons he’d decided now was a perfect time for a quick visit—and how he was under no circumstances to go overboard on gift-buying, or even buy a gift at all for that matter. 

“I’m going to pick up a card on my way home from work,” she explains, standing at the end of the bed, work bag slung over her shoulder, travel coffee mug in her hand. “And I’m gonna sign both of our names,” she continues. Charles rolls his eyes from the bed. “What?” She laughs. 

“Your siblings’ partners…” he yawns. “They get her their own gift, yes?”

Chris hesitates, which makes Charles grin, which forces her to grin. “Yeah, but—”

“No but.”

“But,” she laughs softly. “They’ve been around longer than you.”

Charles scoffs, feigning offense. “Stupid reason.”

“But a reason, nonetheless.”

Charles shakes his head, smiling. Dramatically, he pulls the comforter back over his head. “Goodbye,” he mumbles. 

“Goodbye. I’ll see you later,” she replies, her shoes creaking against the floor as she moves through the hallway. “No gifts!”

“100 percent buying a gift, but okay!” he calls back, pulling the covers back down, listening just long enough to hear her car pull away from the driveway before turning the nightstand lamp off and putting himself back to sleep. 

— — —

When he wakes up again, much closer to an acceptable morning time, he’s already racking his brain for gift ideas. 

It’s an area of life he’s never considered himself particularly strong in. Sometime shortly after the appropriate period of making his Mum a homemade necklace from uncooked macaroni noodles and washable markers, he discovered he was particularly inapt at choosing gifts. 

It’s a shame, really, because he’s always felt like a good listener—especially when it came to people he cared for. And yet, every holiday and birthday and anniversary he’s struggling to come up with something besides an outrageously priced bouquet of flowers at the local florist. 

Which is why he sits on the sofa, legs kicked up on the ottoman, laptop on his legs as he searches What to get your girlfriend’s mum for her birthday? Birthday presents for Mum. Birthday gift ideas. Birthday gifts for Mums near me. What should you get your mother-in-law for her birthday?

Nothing is right. Everything is too silly or too impersonal or too cheap or too expensive for Chris to forgive him for buying. He’s scrolled through so many pages and so many articles hoping for an idea to spark that he’s starting to go crazy. 

Defeated, he closes the laptop, abandoning it on the couch cushion next to him, and dragging his feet all the way to the bedroom, planning on flopping face down on the bed. Instead, he comes face to face with the unmade mess, sighing. He haphazardly peels all of the layers off the bed, stripping the pillows of their cases, tossing them onto the pile of blankets on the floor. With two new pillowcases from the linen closet, he carefully remakes the bed. 

But now, there’s laundry. So he gathers up the pillowcases and the plastic purple hamper in the corner of the room and hauls it all to the laundry room. He tosses the entire hamper into the washing machine, and then stares at the shelf of containers. Three look dustier than the orange plastic container, so he picks up that tote and reads the instructions on the side of the box, following them carefully. When he closes the top of the washing machine, the start button glows green. He doesn’t dare adjust any of the settings, pressing the button and saying a soft prayer to the laundry gods. 

He pulls the dry clothes from the dryer, putting them back into the hamper—and they’re all white. Fuck. Was he supposed to do that with the pile of clothes he’d just dumped? Too late now. Another prayer to the laundry gods. He heads back to the bedroom, dumping the clean white clothes onto the freshly made bed, and folding away at them. He sorts them out by drawer, checking the continents of each drawer half a dozen times, and puts everything where he’s nearly certain it belongs—first in the closet, then in the dresser. 

Sitting atop the dresser are two loose rings and an unclasped necklace. He puts both the rings on the plate of her jewelry stand, and carefully clasps the necklace back together. It’s a thin gold chain with a row of several pearls in the middle. He hangs it gently with the other three pearl-styled necklaces that hang from the top pole of the rack. Pearls, pearls, pearls. She’s always wearing pearls. The next pole has half a dozen bracelets, most with pearls incorporated, and he can’t even begin to count the pairs of pearl earrings in the dish. It’s always pearls, because of what her Mom always says. Pearls make a lady. 

Pearls make a fucking lady. The answer to his question has been literally sitting in front of him this entire time. New Google search—re: Jewelers near me. 

— — — 

Charles is in the kitchen assessing the fridge for snack options when the front door is swinging open at a speed he can’t believe doesn’t result in a loud clattering of the house shaking. “Chuck!” A small voice calls out into the house, followed by another thud, presumably his backpack against the floor of the foyer. The noise continues, heavy little feet running down the hallway through the house, in his direction. Quieter, he can hear Chris, the metal jingling of her keys against the coated aluminum of her travel coffee cup, the click of her shoes down the hallway floor. His name is not Chuck, she hums behind the small boy. “And my name ain’t Reidy but you’s still call me that.”

“That’s different.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris mocks. “I’m the boss,” she says, calling after the boy as he walks through the kitchen doorway. “I get to do whatever I want!” Chris calls out from another room in the house. 

Reid catches Charles’ eyes, squeezing between him and the fridge. He rolls his eyes, twirling his finger beside his head. “You are not the boss,” he insists, grabbing a juice box and a stick of mozzarella cheese. “You are like my stupid little boss.”

Finally, Chris appears in the doorway, shaking her head. Her eyes meet his and he feels himself grinning—an almost embarrassing amount. She looks so pretty, he thinks. So full of life and color. “I’m his stupid little boss,” she says, grinning. 

“Ah,” he nods, closing the fridge doors, moving to kiss her hello. “It’s like this, you know?”

“Do not tell me you haven’t gotten a gift yet!” Chris scolds her brother. First, he’s fifteen minutes late to pick up his kid, and then he has the gusto to ask her what she bought their mom for her birthday…. To give to her at the party in two hours. 

“Okay,” Chase laughs, “I won’t tell you.”

“Chase!”

“I have like, two hours,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Relax.”

“You’re ridiculous!” She insists, rolling her eyes. “Seriously. I got her a new Circuit because she’s always telling Dad how slow the one she has is running. And then I got her a bunch of scrapbooking stuff to go along with it.”

Chase nods, burying his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “And he’s just signing his name?” He asks, looking past her in the doorway to Charles, currently half-engaged in a Mario-Kart battle with Reid. Chris nods. 

“Actually—” Charles interrupts, eyes still focused on the game, hands moving with intentional precision over the controller buttons. “About that. I got her one of those….” he trails off, moving one hand to gesture around his neck. “You know. For your… here.”

“Your neck?” Chris questions. “You went out and bought a necklace?” She continues, thumbing at the gold chain around her neck. 

“Necklace!” He snaps his fingers, pointing in her direction before immediately flopping back into the sofa cushions, Reid laughing maniacally beside him at the sight of his rainbow road victory. “A pearl necklace,” he adds, holding his hand out to shake Reid’s. 

Chris smiles. A pearl necklace. A friggin’ pearl necklace. It’s so simple that it’s stupid, really. It’s dumb. It’s stupid and it’s dumb and it’s cliche, in all honesty—that he is the person to remember a one-off about pearls when he can’t remember anything else. 

“Oh, fuck you, that’s good,” Chase groans. “Hannah got her this, like… a cutting board with a recipe burnt into it or something.”

Chris shakes her head softly, still thumbing her necklace. “It’s Meemaw’s brownie recipe,” she says, her eyes glossed over, mind elsewhere. 

“On a cutting board? Because brownies famously need a cutting board.”

“Shut up,” she says softly, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “It’s cute.”

“It’s expensive.”

Chris’s attention snaps back to her brother. “You won like, literally a million dollars a few months ago. But a cutting board for Mom is too expensive?” She questions, raising her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. “You better find something,” she warns.

Chase holds up his hands in defense. “I know. Worst case scenario, I’m a little bit late to dinner, okay?”

“Get out of my house,” Chris shuffles, gesturing to the open front door. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” Chase laughs, gathering Reid’s backpack from the floor, and helping the boy tie his shoes. 

Chris closes the door behind them, staring at Charles, her back pressed against the cool door. He looks back guiltily, gathering the controllers and putting them on the end table. “I’m sorry–”

“A pearl necklace?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Do you want to see it?”

She shakes her head, moving to join him on the couch, an almost painful smile pulling on her lips as she curls up against him. “I want it to be a surprise,” she hums softly. Charles adjusts underneath her slightly, wrapping an arm around her frame, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’m just happy you’re here,” she adds. 

Is it possible for love to be a pearl necklace?

It’s an easy routine they’ve found—early morning alarms and goodbye kisses and listening to her try to sneak around the creaky floors without waking him up. 

Today, he gets a guest pass to a local gym and works out in the corner following a workout plan Andrea had sent him—minus the neck training. That’s not happening alone in public. 

After the gym, he heads to a grocery store—the biggest one he’s ever seen. He spends more time trying to figure out where he is in the store than he does actually shopping. Like, how many different kinds of pudding could one person need? A whole wall of cereal? Of chicken? Of milk? Be serious. It’s insane. What was meant to be a quick trip to the store for dinner ingredients has turned into a whole ordeal. 

He was just trying to make things easier—for Chris, not for him. It was the middle of her work week and instead of planning a lazy night at home, she’d planned out a million and one things for them to do while he was in town. Charles can’t help but feel like she’s trying to keep him entertained, and it’s a feeling he hates. It’s not her job to keep him entertained. He’s not a toddler. 

So, in response to their full evening schedule of a little league baseball game for her nephew, the possibility of some type of family gathering to follow that could last any vast pan of time, he figured the least he could do is make dinner and have it waiting for her when she got home. They aren’t on Reid duty after school, so it will just be the two of them. It can’t be that hard. 

He’s in the kitchen, humming along to The Kooks—watching the chicken and pasta and stirring the white sauce when she walks through the front door. “Bonjour bébé,” she says, walking through the doorway into the kitchen. 

His head shoots up from the pot on the stove, a smile instantly falling across his lips. “Oh, c’est bien, mon ange,” he says, even though her pronunciation was so forced she’d be laughed out of Paris. She’s trying, and he loves it, and he loves her. So, it’s a good job. 

“Really?” She beams. “It was good?”

He can’t help but smile at a smile like hers. “Yeah, very good,” he nods, kissing her quickly. 

“What are you making?” She asks, hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside the stove, wafting the air in the direction of her face. “It smells good.”

“Chicken and pasta,” he says. “One day, we are going to make pasta from the beginning.”

“You know how to make pasta from scratch?” She asks. 

Charles raises his brows, giggling to himself softly. “To be honest, no. I was hoping you did.”

Chris laughs out loud. “Oh. Well, then. We’re screwed.”

“No,” he frowns. “We’re in serious trouble if I have to be the good cook.”

“I’m not a bad cook!’ She insists, feigning dramatic offense, clutching her pearls, literally. Charles cocks his head to the side, glancing over to her. He smiles a come-on, now smile when she raises her brows in defense, an ache-inducing smile on her face. She is so beautiful it hurts. She is so soft it hurts. She is so, he supposes. End of sentence. 

“Et je ne t'aime pas,” And I do not love you, he mutters, leaning over to press a quick kiss into her lips, lingering just long enough to feel her grin. 

“En Ingles, por favor, Señor?” She asks, quirking a brow. 

“Not a shot in hell.”

“Please?” She frowns, and he actually considers it. Just momentarily, but considered nonetheless. Because what a moment this is. What a time it would be to do it, to say it, to make it known.

Instead, he shakes his head. “Maybe later.”

— — — 

“You’re going to want a jacket,” Charles mutters, moving behind her in the bathroom, sizing up her outfit. They’re getting ready to head out to the baseball game, and she’s wearing leggings and a blue sweatshirt with an Old English D on it—one that apparently matches the color and logo of Reid’s team uniforms. He’s opted for jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue knit zip-up sweatshirt. It’s quite chilly out, and despite the sun peeking through the clouds, it’s windy. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, running a brush through her hair. 

They remember to bring a backpack full of snacks, as well as two travel thermos mugs of drinks that are certainly not alcoholic. They forget their camping chairs, though, as well as the sweater Charles had planned on bringing for when Chris decided she did in fact want a jacket. And most importantly, they forget how to keep their mouths shut. 

It’s cold. It only gets colder as the sun sets, as the game continues. Neither their drinks nor the bottle of wine smuggled in by another one of the player’s mothers manage to keep the chill off. 

Chris stands against the fence that goes around the field with her mom, talking animatedly about who knows what. Charles steals Cindy’s empty seat beside Hannah. He watches as Chase and Reid walk up to them—Reid kicking up a trail of gravel dust with every excited skip. 

“Do you want kids?” Hannah blurts out from the seat next to him, and then before even a beat can pass, “Jesus, sorry,” she laughs. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“No,” he smiles, as soon as he can regain his composure from the blindside of do you want kids. “It’s okay,” he reassures, adjusting in his seat, his eyes lingering on Chris for a moment longer than usual—just to make sure she isn’t hearing this conversation. 

“It’s really not,” she laughs, shaking her head, taking another sip of her definitely-not-wine. “It’s just that if Chase and I die, Chris gets Reid. And she’s… I mean. You see her. You know her,” she says. The sentence left unsaid is that anyone who has ever met Chris would know that if anyone was ever born to be a mother, it’s her. “And she really likes you. Like, a lot,” Hannah whispers. “And I like you, too—but I won’t ever like anyone enough to let her sacrifice something I know is so important to her—”

“I want children, Hannah,” he laughs, cutting her off. “Do not worry.”

“You do?”

“Three.”

“And you want to get married?”

He nods again, almost instinctively looking to his girlfriend, because, as he would argue if pressed about it—who else do you look at but your girlfriend when someone asks you about marriage? “Yes.”

Hannah notices his lingering glance, apparently, because the next words out of her mouth are: “To Chris?” Charles cocks his head back over to face Hannah, rolling his eyes when he does it. Hannah nods. “Sorry, fuck,” she laughs, covering her own mouth. “I know, what’s wrong with me?”

“It,” he starts, but then he’s stopping himself because he isn’t exactly sure what he planned to say. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re just being a good friend—a good sister,” he pauses, looking back to Chris quickly, spinning his ring around his finger. “I don’t think it is the craziest thought, maybe,” he says, and he’s as surprised to say it as Hannah is to hear it. “But,” he holds up a finger and laughs. “Ask me in six months and I bet I can give you a proper answer.”

Hannah smiles, raising her brows, and takes another sip of her drink. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” he says, and now he can stare without care. It’s normal, he tells himself, to think about it all after it’s talked about like that. It’s not his fault that he’s picturing it—his future, her future. Their future together. He thinks that maybe if he squints really hard and takes a step back he can see himself getting married. That maybe she’s there too, in some wedding dress that probably has pockets. 

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Hannah asks, and it pops into his mindless bubble of crazy. He laughs, shakes his head, and pulls his phone out without saying a word. “You totally are,” Hannah giggles, and he feels his cheeks flush. “Look at you blushing, oh my god!”

Charles rolls his eyes, a smile pulling on the corners of his lips. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

He watches from his conversation with Hannah, watches as Chris stands at the chain-link fence, hugging her own arms and shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she needs to pee, trying and trying to warm herself up with the friction of her own arms. 

“Did she bring a coat?” Hannah asks. 

“No,” Charles replies. “But she’s half a minute from forcing her to put on mine.”

“She can take mine, if she wants,” Hannah offers, but Charles turns her down. 

“No, no,” he says. “I am warm, anyways,” he lies. It’s cold out, but his mother raised a gentleman. 

Chris shivers one more time and Charles has had enough of watching her stubbornness. He takes off his sweatshirt and walks up behind her, draping it over her shoulders in the middle of a sentence. 

“Hi?” Chris says sweetly, turning to look at him over her shoulder. 

“Hi,” he smiles, kissing her cheek. “You’re cold.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles and mutters a soft thank you. Charles hums his response and nods, moves to return to the empty camping chair beside Hannah. Chris reaches out to stop him, catching his hand, his fingers interlocking into hers with a casual ease. 

He stands behind her, adjacent to her conversation with her Mother, watching the game through the fence. He’s barely listening, his focus split between the game he doesn’t understand and toying with Chris’ fingers behind her back. “I’ve been learning French,” she tells her mom. Charles smiles. 

“Oh really? Where at?”

“Uh, just on my phone. I got this app that you can do lessons on every day.”

“And you chose French because of…” Cindy trails off. Chris nods, her grip on his hand tightening, which really pulls his attention. 

“I’m pretty bad but he likes to pretend I’m a pro,” she grins, leaning back into him. 

“Well,” Cindy laughs. Chris shivers, moving to put on the sweatshirt instead of just having it draped over her shoulders. “Charles, you shouldn’t be scared to put her in her place.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “No, she’s a quick learner, really.”

— — — 

Cindy excuses herself, says she’s going to go and get some hot chocolate to take the edge off of the chill, and asks if Chris or Charles want any. Charles says no, Chris says yes—offers to pay but is denied. 

Once she’s gone, Chris is spinning in the gravel to face her boyfriend. “Thank you for the sweatshirt,” she says. “And thank you for not saying you told me so.”

“Are you still cold?” He asks, putting the back of his hand on her forehead like he’s checking for a temperature. It’s chilly, but it's not bitter or wintery. 

“Yeah,” she says, swatting his hand from her forehead. “I’m fine, just can’t get warm.”

“C’mere,” He says, pulls her into a tight, warm hug, fully wrapping her up in his arms, running his hands up and down her back. She melts against his chest. “I think it’s Reid’s turn,” he points out, and Chris spins in his grip to face the same direction so he’s hugging her from behind. 

Chris whistles, “Let’s go, Reidy!” She calls out, and then quieter, just to Charles. “He’s nervous that you’re here.”

“Hmm?” he laughs. “Why?”

“He wants to impress you.”

They watch Reid’s at-bat, watch him swing and miss on the tee twice without laughing. Chris is talking to Charles about whatever she and Cindy were talking about before he came over, neither of them taking their eyes off the game. Charles kisses Chris’ covered shoulder while he listens to her talk, runs his hands up and down her arms to create some friction. 

Reid hits the ball off the tee on his third swing, and Chris actually jumps with excitement. He hits it right to the second baseman, hurries his little legs towards Chase on the first base. Chris cheers through a laugh, her body vibrating against Charles’ chest. 

In a pause in the conversation, he wonders if she’s ever been more her than she is right now. At home, with her family, a never-ending well of love and laughter and beauty. He almost wishes that he could just observe her and all that she is, admire the woman he gets to love. 

This is the moment. 

It has to be. Perfect moments don’t exist but this has to be as close as you can get. “Are you okay?” Chris asks over her shoulder, “Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Um,” Fuck. Just say it, Charles. 

Chris laughs anxiously, turns around to face him, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I love you.”

Chris doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he nods. “I’m so in love with you.”

Her face softens, the concern melting away. “Really?” God, she says it so soft that it’s almost a squeak. It hurts him how much she clearly wants to believe him. How maybe, maybe she does. He nods. “I love you, too.”

Charles beams, cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. Kisses her like they’re in love. Because they are. They pull apart in a fit of giggles, his thumb dancing on her cheek, running over a tear. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” she says through a smile, turning around to lean against his chest again, wiping a tear from her cheek with a sniffle. It’s cute, he says. “Shhh.”

Through a peppering of kisses on her shoulder, her hair, her cheek, he repeats between each peck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[adventuringblind]

Rest

Norlestappen X Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Reader is struggling badly with a flair up but doesn't want to admit it.

Warnings: unspecified chronic illness, collapsing in exhaustion, worried boyfriends

Notes: another Nonny request!! Love this one so much! (Comments feed my praise kink and give me motivation to write... if anyone was wondering...)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The heat had been driving her insane. Qatar is a nightmare. It's so humid that it's difficult to breathe.

Her body despises the heat. It pulls every ounce of energy from her system. Make the pain soar to ungodly levels.

But she's not the one racing.

Max, Lando, and Charles are the ones racing. It's not fair to them that she needs their help when they have to endure whatever hell this is in a death machine for two hours.

She forces her mask back on and pretends she's fine despite her protesting body.

She checks on Charles first. Max and Lando are on the podium, so it gives her some time to see that he's alright.

Which, truth be told - he doesn't look. He's drenched in sweat mixed with cold water. He's panting and trying to peel off his fireproofs.

"Charlie? Are you okay?" She peeks her around the corner, and he shakes his head no.

She helps him get out of the drenched clothing and into a shower. Her phone buzzes violently in her pocket as Charles steps out. She kisses his cheek and dips out to see Lando, the culprit of calling her non-stop.

She drags her body to McLaren. Aching bones won't give her any reprieve as she walks. The heat is unbearable, smothering her mind in a deep fog she can't escape.

The McLaren staff barely bat an eye in her direction. Most give her pitiful looks, probably whispering about how she looks like a zombie.

She'll rest later. Her boys need her right now.

She taps Lando's door with her knuckles. He looks bright-eyed when she opens it. Smells of champagne sweat nearly knock her over. She has to bite back a gag.

Instead, she returns his smile and throws herself at him. "I'm proud of you!"

"Was a good race, wasn't it? A but jealous of Osc and proud at the same time."

She hums and closes the door behind her. Immediately going back to draping herself over the Brit. Effectively using him to help keep her upright.

"Are you alright, love? You look a bit out of it..."

"I'm fine, Lan, just been a long day, is all. Had a lot of cheering to do, you know!"

Lando manages to run around the small room, tugging off his wet clothes, rinsing his hair, and throwing on his team kit.

She grabs something to style his hair with, Lando will be in shambles later if he sees his hair looking wrecked.

She swears they both almost fall asleep to the repetitive movments. A small intimate thing shared between the two of them.

A much louder knock then her earlier one hits their ears, startling the two out of whatever trance they’re in. “Lando! You’ve got interviews to do!”

The Brit groans in disappointment, but gets up regardless. “Thank you, love.” He leans down to where she is still sitting and kisses her forehead. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m going to see Max next, I already saw Charlie.” She throws him a reassuring look. “I’ll be okay, promise.” She even holds out her pinky finger for him to wrap his own around.

That promise, however, is getting harder and harder to keep as she drags her weary bones to Max. Her body is screaming at her to stop moving, find somewhere to sleep for a couple of years before it goes back to making life difficult.

She shakes her head. No, she wasn’t the one driving in the hell today. She can wait until her partners are squared away.

Max greets her outside of the energy station. His face drops when he sees her. Her smile, although genuinely happy, is lopsided. Even the muscles that show her happiness are tired. That should be a red flag, but she continues forward.

Her and Max make their way to his drivers room. His arm wrapped around her waist in much ended comfort and support. She hopes he hasn’t caught on to the way she’s leaning into him to keep herself up.

they flop onto the couch together. “Lando told me you were on your way. He’s a bit worried about you.”

“I told him I’m alright, I promise. The heat is just difficult.”

“Tell me about it.” Max rolls his eyes.

Max’s presence and her comfortable position on the couch do nothing to help her fatigue. The drowsiness is slowly taking hold and she’s not sure how long she can hold it off for.

“You can sleep now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She hadn’t even noticed she was asleep, slumped against Max’s body. Not until she cracks her eyes open and sees her lovers laying spread out across the room.

Ice packs are strewn across their bodies. Lando is drooling on Charles’ chest, Max has a hand dangling of the side of the sofa that looks like it was previously in charles’ hair, and Charles is sleeping with his body sitting upright.

She wants to giggle at the sight. They all look comfortable despite the chaotic positioning.

Her body moves on its own accord. the ice packs should be refrozen and she might be able to get her hands on some new ones while she’s at it.

She gets nowhere as Max’s arm wraps around her, pulling her back down on top of him. Lando and Charles stir awake from all the movement.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

She pouts at Max. “But I’m fine now. Just needed a nap, is all.”

Charles turns enough so that both him and Lando are able to see her, even if it’s not well. “The circles under your eyes say otherwise.’ He reaches up to hold her hand. “Thank you for taking care of us, but now it’s your turn.”

She would probably be crying s she had the energy to. The compassion they all have for her, even when she lacks it herself. It’s overwhelming at times. especially when she feels undeserving, like she hasn’t earned it.

Lando shimmies his way out of Charles’ hold and fixes himself. His arm coming up to wipe away the trail of drool. “Now that we’re all awake, I’ve tasked Oscar with bringing us popsicles, anybody want ‘em?”

A course of happy cheers fills the room at the mention of a cold treat.

Her smile doesn’t feel tired this time.

[heresan]

When you're perched so prettily on his lap with your arms loosely coiled around his neck, Wriothesley truly wonders what he's done to deserve this一to deserve you and your love and your affections.

There's an endearing boyish smile on his face as you lay only the softest and sensual kiss after sweet kiss on either side of his cheeks, the small scar just at the prominence in deserving of a little extra attention from you. His thoughts become addled when the warmth of your lips spread from his jawline, neck and the corners of his mouth before the long-awaited blissful exchange after enduring all your teasing.

When you draw back slightly, your boyfriend's face is stained all over by the lipstick you'd been wearing since the morning. But there's a reason behind this gesture of tenderness, a greater purpose that lies with all the women in Fontaine in hopes of developing a long-lasting and transfer-free beauty product, or so that's what you like to tell yourself.

Sigewinne had asked you to test her newly formulated cosmetic and provide her with your honest feedback in her survey, while mentioning that at her recent beauty lecture a few audiences had brought to her attention if there's a possibility of such a product. And so, here you are testing how the lipstick wears after food and drink, with a personal experiment of your own for its kissing-proof capabilities.

"Perfection. Would you believe me if I said you look much more handsome this way?" You're almost admiring your handiwork as you do a once-over, but remember that the product doesn't hold up to its original purpose. The lipstick checks out on moisturizing long-wear while still being relatively low-maintenance, but you'll just simply have to report your findings back to the Head Nurse to improve the final product. "I suppose I'll have to let Sigewinne know that there's a bit of transfer."

"More handsome with all this lipstick smear? It might just be because I have someone so beautiful to kiss me." Wriothesley chuckles, as his thumb wipes the slight smudge overlining your bottom lip that’s already begun to fade after doing a number on him. "Perhaps she only needs a little more practice in making a product that can survive our kissing. But a little lipstick stain isn't going to hurt anyone."

You offer a content hum, agreeing with him as you lean forward to press a peck to his lips that he more than gladly returns with a fervor of his own. Wriothesley brings you closer to him by the waist and his tongue runs along the seams of your lips for entrance, deepening the kiss in a heavenly traverse and you instinctively clasp your hand gently into the back of his hair. The pigment spreads and stains upon his lips once more before what's left connecting you both is a string of saliva, and the sound of soft panting for air fills the silence in the room.

Your cheeks feel warm and your heart impossibly full as your head rests comfortably on his shoulder, your fingers fiddling and twirling with his maroon tie as you revel in this feeling of giddiness. "Thanks for letting me steal you away from your work again. I was afraid you wouldn't have time for me between managing the prison and your scheduled uninterrupted tea breaks."

Wriothesley laughs softly at your teasing and plants a chaste kiss to your temple. "Don't worry about it at all, sweetheart. You shouldn't be surprised that I always have time for you. Besides you're not doing anything but letting me have my fun."

He then peers at the swell of your messy lips, a playful smirk gracing his features with a quiet craving behind his gaze. He only wants to feel more of you, like his hands and mouth can't stop wanting to search for every last part of you. And you can’t really blame him for finishing what you started. "Perhaps I should kiss you again and again until it's all but disappeared, hm?"

[shaisuki]

“what's your favorite color?”

megumi asked you, out of the blue. the child sitting beside you while you both looked at the people passing by. his legs swinging a little.

“let me think. it's mmm...”

megumi looks to his side. studying your face while you think of your favorite color. your lips quirking to the side, eyebrows furrowed up. when you reached your answer, your face lightened up.

“blue. my favourite color is blue, megumi.”

“why is that?” he asked once again. your eyebrows raising. megumi never asked for trivial questions such as where do babies come from or something simple as what's your favorite color but the boy's asking and you're more than willing to answer him. an attempt to connect with you and you smiled softly at him.

“it's reminds me of everything that makes me happy, megumi. the sky, the sea and it's the color of his eyes...” megumi gave you a confusing look when your voice died down at the last words.

before he can ask anything again, a annoying, all-too familiar voice interrupted him.

“hello, my two favorite creatures.” slinging his arms in megumi and to you. giving you a large smooch in your cheek and gojo looks to the side. a huge grin breaking out in his face and you swore you never seen megumi so scared before grabbing gojo's blindfold to stop him from terrorizing the poor child.

“satoru, i swear. megumi's going to kill you in your sleep—one day. stop annoying the child.” you warned to him, wringing his blindfold which made him wince from the pain.

“such a meanie—(y/n)!” he pouts, pinching your round cheeks — his cold, long fingers squeezing the flesh with no remorse. this is revenge and seeing you wince, eyebrows knitting in pure annoyance earns the biggest smirk from him. gojo would relish it for a little longer but seeing megumi sending daggers to him made him stop.

“phew. that was tough.” gojo casually began. attempting for the conversation to divert — feigning innocence like he didn't hurt your cheeks and ignoring megumi's glare at him.

“that hurts, satoru.” rubbing the sore spot in your round cheek. you'd be lucky if it didn't bruise. that would really be a pain in the ass.

“it wasn't that hard!” he retaliates. defending his own doings and you just shake your head. arguing with him would be pointless. knowing how gojo never back down. no matter how stupid it is.

“never mind. gumi you want to get ice cream?” pointing out the ice cream truck and megumi nods.

“what about me?!”

“satoru, you're an adult. get it on your own.” reaching out for megumi's hand in which he gladly accepts. his smaller hand holding yours. walking away from the white-haired male wearing blindfold with megumi in your grasp.

you gulped, looking at the corner of your eyes — only to find gojo standing and silent and him being quiet staring at you and megumi, there's chaos brewing in that brain of his and it's never good. it means trouble and despite the park having a fairly amount of people, it's no question he will be doing it.

in which you prepared for the worst. maybe, you can escape it this time.

“megumi.” you call out to the boy. responding to you with a hum. “prepare yourself. your other guardian is going to cause trouble again.” you whispered to him and megumi sweats a little. knowing how this one will end up. could he just have you as his and tsumiki's only guardian? not that troublesome adult who didn't seem to grow up—maturely. beggars can't be choosers or something like that, he knows he owe it to the man but sometimes he don't know how much longer he can endure it. megumi's glad you're around to balance, keep him calm but it never lasts.

you both turned around, and gojo seems like a statue standing there while watching you both and in cue, “run!” you told megumi. bolting to find a place to hide or escape and hoping you'd lost that boyfriend/troublesome idiot of yours.

with you and megumi holding your hand for dear life. yeah, it would be the death of you both if that idiot caught you two. you'll die of embarrassment.

then a full chase began around the park and with lessons yet still to learn and will never be taught. you forgot how gojo's long strides are and with the speed with you and megumi running in even at the headstart. too worried about the shenanigans gojo will bestow to you both.

“gotcha’ (y/n)-chan.” he said in a sing-song voice and adding the chan when teasing you and you felt yourself being lifted up with no chance of escape and you let go of megumi's hand.

“run, gumi!” you told the kid in which he reluctantly obeyed not wanting to leave you but knowing you, he ran in a safe distance watching as you squirmed at his other guardian who won't give you any mercy.

“satoru! put me down this instant!” in which gojo didn't comply. holding your middle with both of his hands while he spins you around. making you squeal and you swear you could feel the stares of multiple eyes.

“nope.” gojo flatly declares.

even with your weight, he still make you feel like you were the lightest person on the planet.

megumi watched in the distance, sitting in one of the tree roots sticking out in the ground. he could feel the annoyance creeping up on him but seeing you happy made him happy too. the annoyance barely affecting him while you laugh at gojo. he can hear the laughter and the cries you were making for the man-child to stop and megumi relished on that. he couldn't help but to feel a little upset about gojo, the man who stopped for letting him get sold by that so called family of his. he knows you and gojo had a life before him but seeing gojo takes all your attention away from him. he simply couldn't help it.

you gave him and tsumiki the utmost care, the unconditional love, making they were satisfied and making sure their wants and needs are met. catching the responsibilities they shouldn't be doing at their age for them to have a normal life. always going for the extra mile to have them taken care. you became the mother they never knew they needed. of course, that weird guy also gave them with the same amount of love but it would never match it with you.

with a plea and string of praises. of course, you complied. you didn't know if you could take more. face hot with embarrassment and your dress in a bunch. crinkling in the corners and you sighed looking at them. “you're the great and handsome gojo satoru! i love you with all my heart!” you shout earlier. never you thought you would stoop that low and just to feed his ego. you're not going to survive another whims he'll whip up. you were glad megumi's not part of it.

there's the casual silence, followed by the small bites in the ice cream you three bought. sitting in the bench under the sky with the soft breeze blowing.

“it's good?” you asked megumi and the boy looks at you and nods. bringing back his attention at his ice cream and you look at the man beside him. contentedly humming while he feasts on the cold treat.

“you got stain here, gumi.” swiping the boy's cheek with your thumb and he stops for a moment for you to clean it properly and goes back once again and gojo seeing it and being the jealous one. he accidentally smears the ice cream in his cheek. “mou~ (n/n) — i think i have some too.” he pouts and you look at him with “are you serious” look. knowing damn well it was intentional. he only smirks and points his cheek to emphasize. someday, you're going to have the chance to slap him, just once.

he leans down to you closer, dangerously close while you hold his jaw to avoid unnecessary movements and for you to wipe the sticky liquid in his face. “done.” you says and there's a cold sensation in your cheek. this bastard.

you decided to be the bigger person today cause if you fought back. there's a full on wild goose chase again. it couldn't be help. you accepted this idiot and you won't be leaving him anytime soon with megumi and tsumiki now in both of your lives.

you three sat there. watching people passed by with ice creams in your hands. it's a cool, windy day under the blue sky.

it felt like it was yesterday. the days and years passing in a blink of an eye and it slip backs into his memory why he asked you what's your favorite color. blue. you fondly told him that with a smile gracing in your lips and that is only memory that stuck him.

under the blue sky. the sunny days. where everybody is basked in it's warmth. the vastness of the blue sky and how it always be a reminder of the happy days. it's always brought a smile to your face, he would remember and he would smile too —a little.

he can't find himself to he happy nor feel a little joy under this weather. droplets of rain falling all over the road, the roofs and the cold wind blowing. puddles of water surrounding the area and he understands why such joyous moments only happens in a warm, sunny day with the blue sky—no clouds.

megumi didn't know what losing someone felt like and he got the first taste of it when tsumiki got cursed and now yours — it was different.

it felt like a ton of bricks and stone is put on him. he feels numb despite of it. he couldn't believe it. how could this happen? you were strong. that's why you survived for so long, enough to see him grow up to be the man he is now today but death's hand is unstoppable. the greatest power on earth couldn't prevent it.

he refuses to see your body laying down in the table. what's bright and warm smile you always give to him — it's gone. replaced by a cold and lifeless expression in front of him. he says he needed to see after all, to see is to believe and he wish he didn't.

the white blanket covering your body and he don't know if he'll cry or not. it's too much. gone too soon and what of your passing to his sensei.

gojo remains silent. the most silent he ever seen him. of course, the loudest he was is when with you. the banters, the witty remarks, your laugh, the squeals when he does something stupid. megumi knew gojo didn't need comfort, not from him. knowing that the cure for that pain is you . he's fighting his own battles too and despite what he felt for the man in his younger days, he still owes him. his life to him and to you.

with no parents stepping up and leaving them to fend for their own. you both came. remembering the day where you scolded gojo to never say anything stupid enough to spook them. he was first to be graced by your smile that day. assuring him that he and tsumiki will be fine. jabbing at gojo telling him that they were going to be fine and it was more than fine.

he couldn't ask anything for more and when the heart could no longer carry the heavy burden of you being gone. his eyes speaks for what the heart can't carry no more. excusing himself leaving the man who you deeply loved more than anything in the world and with the door closing. his eyes opened for the tears to fall.

he's no better than what's megumi feeling right now. fuck, didn't he just promised that he'll protect you so what the fuck this happened.

he wants to scream. curse every living person. his knuckles turning paler than it is — gripping his hair that it'll rip off. you were supposed to be coming home. alive and well. breathing with his name the first thing you'll say and you'd given him the most tight embrace you could muster. “i'm home, satoru.” you are never coming back home.

this is his reality.

he went to approach your body. you look so different. there your face. it was the most brightest when you smiled, laughed even, cried when he's teasing got overboard. he wouldn't get used to this. he needs you laughing and smiling. tell him you love him — that he's an insufferable asshole — that he's your idiot — that—that you're afraid of losing him.

he examined your face, from the shape of your eyes, to the roundness of your cheeks, to the fullness of your lips. you were still his. you look peaceful and he don't want that when you're laying in this table with the mountain of corpses who has been previous laid here.

he wants to see your eyes again. staring right back at him with much adoration and annoyance. he would tease you for hours for the reason your favorite color is blue cause it was the color of his eyes. he can't miss that what you'd told megumi that day. blue makes you happy. his eyes, him. he made you happy and that's important right? he made you happy with the duration of your life with him and that was meant to last for a lifetime with him but it's not going to happen.

he grasp your hand. it's hard and cold. no life and warmth in those hands. the very hands who tenderly cared for the siblings — the very hands who held him every night — that hands that cups his face and you would tell him straight in the eyes that you love him — so — so — much.

“i love you too, (y/n).” he says. slipping the ring he got after the day you both adopted megumi and tsumiki. you're both officially guardians to two children and that means a new start for a family. he didn't know what possessed him that day to get a ring. you're both young with the future ahead of you. it's seems unclear and yet he still got that. one day — one day. he will put that ring to your finger with a promise that he'll annoy you for the rest of your lives together.

he didn't even get to propose to you. always waiting for the right moment but never came and he thinks this is the right moment. he wants to laugh for how stupid he was. the ring would be nicely suited to your ring finger if you were still alive. a promise to spend the rest of your lives together and he can't do that now.

he kisses your forehead one last time before covering you with the blanket. this is goodbye, he guesses. he thinks you're in peace now — no pain, suffering. no one's going to harm you. you're at peace. he told himself.

no amount of grieving will ever rid the pain you inflicted with your passing to the both of them. with the heavy rain pouring.

there will be no promise of blue sky, after this.

[sugar-omi]

I THINK I FINALLY GOT IT TO WORK.... jfc anywayz this is nasty n i love it. so fellow monster freaks, this is for you my loves!!!! <333

DAY FOUR — MONSTER FUCKING

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, fem/afab reader, dub-con just bc y'all are so outta it, (mentioned/implied) dom/sub space, mermaid!cove x human!reader, soft to mean dom cove, biting, scratching, stomach bulging, knotting ment, ignore the kinda scary mer pregnancy bit okay

synopsis : cove finally lets you spend his heat with him, and your mermaid boyfriend is so much different than you had thought...

maybe you should have listened to cove when he said humans couldn't handle a mermaids heat. at least not without fighting for their life.

mermaids are naturally rough during their heats, biting and fighting for dominance over the other.. not to mention the sheer size of them.

cove is bigger than the average merman, "standing" at 12 feet tall.

which is something you should have factored in along with the sharp teeth and claws. because now, you're in a isolated underwater cove, with a horny, giant mermaid who is currently rearranging your guts.

"cove-!" you cry, pushing against his chest. it's fruitless, and you're just asking for more assertiveness, more pain

"stay still." cove growls, his sharp eyes striking through you, urging you to stay still and take it. you whine, your eyes rolling back. you know cove is trying to be gentle, but his mind is clouded.

"i-i can't take more!" you whimper. even though he's proportional for a merman of his size, it's too much for you. you couldn't possibly take all of his dick. "it won't fit-" you drawl, the words straining through gritted teeth.

cove kisses your cheek, licking your tears. "it's okay, it's okay..." he comforts, panting from the effort to control himself. "you can take it... i've prepared you for this.."

you whine when he moves again, the prominent ridges on the underside of his dick stretching you open.

he really did try to prepare you, gifting you a toy roughly the size of his dick and some smaller ones to work up to his size. cove even ate you out beforehand, his fingers slowly stretching you open and making sure you would come out as unscathed as possible.

cove kisses you, swallowing your whines and moans and trading it for his long tapered tongue.

you kiss back, letting cove consume your senses and take away all your burdens.

bitten, bruised, and sore, it's so worth it. to be connected with cove on this level.. it's maddening.

"are.. you okay?" cove pants into your ear, his fingers flexing around your waist as he tries to keep restraint.

you swallow, drool pooling in your mouth. "yes, yes, please move…"

cove fixes his grip on your body to move you the way he wants, his hands are so big they easily wrap around your waist and the heat coming from cove makes you feel like you're burning…

"ah-!" you drape yourself over cove. wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he's moving your body so easily..

you know you're much smaller than cove, so his strength shouldn't be a surprise. but the way he's moving your body up and down on his cock like you're his personal cock sleeve drives you crazy.

"covee~" you drawl, your eyes rolling back. fuck you're losing your mind.

every part of your body and mind is consumed with pleasure, any thoughts you have melt and reform to think about nothing but cove and his dick.

cove's nails dig into your skin, pearls of blood coming to the surface and washing away with the movements of your hips.

the scratches should hurt, cove's claws aren't for decoration afterall, but it seems that medicine cove gave you helps with the pain you are sure to endure during his heat.

cove groans, "fuck.. you're so tight…"

you pang, blinking away your fucked out haze. "you're… you're just too- ohh fuck- too big!"

cove's laugh is cut off by your twitching cunt tightening around him, "jesus christ, y/n… stop tightening up.." cove growls.

you whine, dragging your nails down cove's scaled shoulders. "i'm-i'm trying.." you whine, "it feels so good."

cove drags his teeth over the exposed column of your throat. his lips trail down to your shoulder, and with much care that most mermaids wouldn't afford, he bites down hard enough to leave evidence of his teeth, and he runs his tongue over it soothingly.

you huff, squirming in cove's hold. "please, please cove! faster!"

cove peeks at you, stopping his assault on your neck and collarbone. "...can you handle it?"

you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. "i'm taking your dick right now aren't i? i'm not going to break."

cove glares, "it took you a week to get up to the toy that was only 2nd to my true size, you shook and cried that you couldn't take it."

his voice is booming, and maybe it should scare you, but something about cove reminding you how you pathetically ran to him to help you with the toy… it turns you on.

"you've trained your pathetic human cunt to take my dick and you still cried that it wouldn't fit." cove stares down at you, his height and gaze making you still and a fire is burning in your stomach.

"if i give you more than you can take, you'll break. aren't you worried about me hurting you?" cove inquires and his gaze is a mix of intrigue and confusion at your eager negative shake of your head.

"as if, you can't hurt a fly." you're testing him, he's already holding back for you and yet you can't help but want to push him over the edge…

cove growls, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest and his gills flare.

he doesn't say anything else, you've said enough after all and if it's more you want, it's more you get.

cove hugs you, one arm around your back and the other under your butt, and uses the power of his lower body to thrust up into you.

you yell, your nails scratching down his scales and to his back, surely scratching off skin if cove's hiss is anything to go by.

with the change of pace, the last couple inches of cove's dick forces itself into you. you can't even catch your breath since with every rearing of his hips, the knot at the base of his dick pop in-and-out of you.

"cove!" you slap his shoulder, shaking at the stimulation.

cove nips at your shoulder and chest, leaving small marks where he pleases. "you wanted more. don't blame me if you end up becoming my pathetic cock sleeve."

you whine, drool slipping past the corner of your lips.

he's really fucking you dumb, leaving you no choice but to think about nothing but his dick.

his fat tip keeps bumping against your cervix, hitting that lovely spot between your womb and your gummy walls.

"ah! ohh fuck!" you cry, cove has taken your nipple in his mouth, swirling his long tongue around the bud and teasing it with his teeth, your other breast in his hands, rolling the bud between his fingers.

you whimper and moan, shaking your hips in return. the sensation is so good, especially since he's keeping you from running with his arm around your waist, forcing you to take the pleasure he's giving you.

as if you would want to run anyway. you've become way too addicted to this now.

sure you and cove have been intimate before, but this is the most you've ever taken of his ridiculously large mer dick and this is the roughest he's ever been with you.

usually he’s the one holding your hips to keep you from sinking any further on his length. but now he's fucking you with reckless abandon, giving into your pleas after all this time…

it doesn't take much to succumb to the pleasure that you've been craving this whole time.

“cove!” you cry, your legs shaking.”i’m gonna, i’m gonna make a mess!”

cove growls, picking up pace, purposefully angling his tip to slam against your g-spot.

a couple solid thrusts is all it takes to have you shaking, your legs wrapped around cove as you squirt.

you're seeing white, your legs shaking and toes curling. you can barely process the groan that comes deep from cove's throat because of your convulsing cunt, you're wrapped so tightly around him that his cock drags against your walls when he tries to pull back.

you whine and shake, feeling sensitive after such an intention orgasm.

"cove…" you weakly call, pulling yourself up by his shoulders to try and get off his dick, that spongy spot inside your walls too tender from the abuse.

"don't pull away from me.." cove grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter.

you pant, blinking and trying to keep consciousness.

you barely register that you're slipping into sub space, you've completely surrendered yourself to cove and obediently swallow the pearls he presses to your lips.

"mm, what.. what was that?" you ask, swallowing several times at the after taste. you know one of them was for breathing underwater, but you've never seen the other before..

"it's a contraceptive."

in this position you feel really small to cove, his body leaning over yours, completely trapping you between him and his nest.

combine that with his feral grin and sharp eyes… you're stuck and absolutely hypnotized.

"merfolk are very fertile, remember?" cove leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice deep and it penetrates your soul.

"we have a lot left to do before i impregnate you with my seed."

you shiver, looking at him with wide eyes. the thought doesn't terrify you, although maybe it should with what you know…

most humans don't survive it. and that's typically because they're not mated… something about DNA and special pheromones to relax and aid you in pregnancy and birth.

cove kisses your cheek, grinding his the tip of his dick near your womb. "don't worry… i know hoe to make it easier, don't be scared."

you nod mindlessly, trusting him.

"fuck!" you curse, the power of cove's thrust nearly burying you in his nest.

you cling onto his shoulders for dear life, your leg kicking out, allowing him to go even deeper.

"cove!"

"shhh, it's okay. just a bit more.." cove soothes, "i'm gonna cum soon…"

he groans, removing himself from your thoroughly marred neck to hold your legs and spreading them open, allowing him to piston into your weeping cunt.

you howl, throwing your head back and fisting the organized mess of blankets and materials of cove's nest, arching your back.

the movement just forces his dick deeper inside you, making you whine loudly.

you flip over, although not without much shaking, whimpering, and cove's nails digging into your skin.

although now that you've made it onto your stomach, weakly trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure, cove tugs your hips back and easily manhandled you.

he presses you against his chest with his hand, the other on your stomach, which he brings something interesting to your attention…

"fuck.. you see that?"

it takes you a minute to respond, too long because cove grabs you by your chin and tilts your head down, and shows you your stomach.

you moan lowly at the sight.

with every deep thrust you can see cove's dick protrude from your stomach, popping up right below your belly button.

cove lifts your head back up, his hand under your jaw, and he can't help but laugh at the tears running down your face.

"look at you, you've become a brainless slut."

you moan at cove's degrading comment. fuck you didn't think he had it in you but he does and you are losing it.

"maybe i'll keep you to myself forever. merfolk already have a bad reputation because of sirens.." cove growls in your ear, "wanna be my cute lil' cock sleeve, y/n?"

all you can do is beg and squirm for more.

"please.." you whimper, feeling cove's knot catching on your entrance. you want to be filled, you need him to cum inside..

cove laughs at your plea and kisses your lips, grinning a sharp toothed, wolfish smirk. "good girl, i'll take care of you…"

[themattress]

The Dragon Prince's Biggest Flaw

Now that I've finished Season 7 (the end of the Mystery of Aaravos arc and quite possibly the series if they don't get a three season renewal), I once again must reaffirm the biggest albatross around The Dragon Prince's neck. It's not the lore and worldbuilding so reliant on side material, or the never-ending Avatar: The Last Airbender references, or the inconsistent animation quality, or the tonal whiplashes, or the sketchy pacing that results from all seasons being only 9 episodes long. It's the fact that while most of the heroes are likable enough, their conflicts aren't as interesting or satisfying as the villains' at best, and their goals and beliefs are downright not preferable to the villains' at worst. And this season highlighted that again!

Callum doesn't end up going dark or dying despite all the build-up, Rayla gets closure with her biological parents and then gets to have her adoptive parents back and status back and doesn't end up needing to kill Callum, Ezran is pulled back from his tyrannical path by Aanya and forgives those he was angry at, Runaan is among those forgiven and gets to find out he didn't kill King Harrow after all, Soren doesn't have to find out troubling truths of his past or confront the mother who abandoned him or have to kill his sister, Terry keeps his innocence and doesn't have to be burdened by Claudia dying, Lujanne doesn't die, and Janai doesn't end up needing to make the hard choice of executing her brother. The only sacrifice made by a hero is by Zubela, who at least gets to be with her husband in death and tell her son she loves him before dying, with said son appearing to be just fine afterward. Ezran practically boasts about how nobody had to sacrifice anything in the end despite having prepared to!

Meanwhile, Claudia loses her innocence, her brother, much of her mental health, her leg, her biological father, her boyfriend, her adoptive father, and if I'm reading it right even her humanity. Viren gave up everything to atone for his sins and died a painful and lonely death as he reiterated that he's "a servant", as if his problem was that he didn't "know his place" and dared to want more rather than his actual heinous actions in the pursuit of what he thought was justified. Aaravos lost his biological daughter, spent countless years crying over it, spent countless more years imprisoned, and now he has been temporarily killed and separated from his adoptive daughter in the process. (Oh, and Karim was squished to death, but fuck that guy). The villains actually lose things, they actually have to make sacrifices to achieve what they want! This makes them more compelling than the heroes, even if their aims aren't always on the morally up and up...but this season screws up that caveat as well!

Not only is Aaravos' plan at worst something that will create hardships that are perfectly endurable, but at best it's something morally justified because it strips power from a cosmic order that we have been shown is corrupt, composed of self-righteous bigots who will execute a child for daring to share magic with a race they deem inferior and unworthy of it. While the heroes want to create a better world, their solution doesn't address the root causes for the problems in any meaningful way. It's supposed to be framed as them acknowledging the hurt but moving on from in rather than let it bind them to the past, but that only works with the Karim plotline. Aaravos not moving beyond his hurt isn't binding him to the past, it's making him fight for a future where such cosmic atrocities can't be inflicted again...and more to the point, it's making him fight for a reality where his child's unjust execution isn't rendered meaningless. He refuses to accept "bad shit happens and we all just have to move on" when the ones making the bad shit happen move on without paying a damn consequence for their actions. And he isn't even a hypocrite about it: he knows he's also doing bad shit, and that's why he plans to die at the end! He can be with his daughter and his victims can have justice.

Meanwhile, this season is full of heroes also doing bad shit that they justify as for the best, with the difference being they have no self-awareness about it and, as said before, pay no sacrifices for it. From Callum trying to use dark magic and commit the very kind of vile act Viren was demonized for, to Rayla betraying her allies by breaking a rightfully convicted criminal out of prison, to Ezran going full Oppenheimer with the creation of a dangerous new weapon....and, perhaps worst of all, Soren, Terry and co. magically disguising Lujanne as Claudia's long-lost mother in an attempt to trick her into standing down from helping Aaravos. Yes, to get her away from Aaravos they resorted to something far more underhanded and manipulative than anything Aaravos ever tried with her. Why should I root for these guys!?

Honestly, I think if there is one scene that perfectly encapsulates the problem, it's Terry's big Heel Face Turn moment. Aaravos tells Terry the whole dark truth with the explicit purpose of helping him grow and helping him and Claudia be a better couple by putting them on equal ground with one another. And the words he says to Terry in this scene are absolutely correct:

"The true heart is a gift of childhood. For a few wonder-filled years, we each have innocent eyes to experience the world's beauty, in a simple way. Terrestrius, you were lucky. You held that innocent want for longer than most. I have seen generations of humans and elves accept the darkness that lurks in all of us beside the light. There is no black and white, only shades of gray. We must all carry complexity. But please, believe me: that there is beauty in this burden. Your heart will be a little heavier, but now there will be no more half-truths, Terrestrius. We will do what must be done."

All of this is right! Note that Aaravos isn't saying you have to discard your inner child or the good qualities it grants you completely. He is simply saying the truth that you cannot stay in a childlike state of being forever, you must also be willing to acknowledge and accept the darker parts of the world, of human nature, of yourself. If not, you can't do what you must.

But rather than do that and work through things with Claudia, Terry totally backtracks on his pledge last season that he'll never leave her and will always stand with her, all because he is scared of having to grow up and lose his innocence, to take the black with the white and see things in shades of gray, to work toward something bigger than himself that requires him to step outside his comfort zone. And it all feels so phony and unjustified, for three reasons:

- 1. First of all, he killed a man. Does anybody else remember that? He killed Ibis from behind in his third appearance in order to protect Claudia. After that he helped take and hold Soren as a hostage, steal a map from a dragon's tooth, and actively assist in releasing Aaravos despite even his own apprehensions about it. Claudia killing Sir Sparklepuff didn't seem to phase him all that much either. So the notion that he still has his innocence in tact and hasn't lost it already feels like narrative gaslighting. The breaking point being Claudia lying to him and using him (even though just talking to her deeply about it would reveal that Aaravos told her to, since again his plan was to break his innocence once it served its purpose so that he and Claudia could be equals in a better relationship) makes him feel selfish, especially given that he knows about Claudia's abandonment issues and how it will feel if another loved one walks out on her, this time after having sworn not to do so and even staying with her after she left him specifically to avoid this scenario! I'm having trouble feeling sympathy for him here.

- 2. Secondly, even if we accept his decision to leave, why couldn't he just stay on his own and take care of the birds? I mean, he could have stayed with Aaravos and Claudia and just taken the birds with him, but if he really felt he needed to split, why join their enemies? Why go out of his way to side with the people working against Claudia just as Soren had done, once again making her feel betrayed in the process? The justification that he's doing it with the assurance that Claudia won't be harmed doesn't hold water, since one of his new buddies almost kills her later and then shortly after that Soren starts talking about how she's too far gone and may need to die. Did I mention that both of those happen after they try to deceive Claudia with a fake version of her long-lost mother? Which leads to the third and final point...

- 3. Yeah, instead of just going and finding his and Claudia's mother even if it made him uncomfortable, Soren, along with Terry, Corvus, Lujanne and Allen, decided to use a magic spell to disguise Lujanne as her and have her play out an emotional reunion with a vulnerable Claudia in order to manipulate her into leaving Aaravos. When leaving her, Terry said to Claudia "You didn't trust me to make my own choice! You used me! It's not how you treat someone you love...it's not how you treat any person! And if I let you treat me that way, I'm not sure I can really be me anymore!" Yet here he is, not trusting Claudia to make her own choice and using her despite loving her. Is THAT you, Terry? Or have you changed into someone you don't even like, which was your reasoning for not staying with Claudia? Either way, you've blown up your entire rationale. You're just as morally gray as Aaravos and Claudia, except unlike them you lack the maturity to own it, preferring to stay a man-child.

And that's the show's fatal flaw in a nutshell. It wants to be morally complex, except it also doesn't want the heroes to actually embrace their own moral complexity and suffer the consequences that comes with it, which ends up turning them into pious hypocrites who can't acknowledge their hypocrisy or that the villains might have a point with what they're seeking to achieve, who breeze through the show unscathed while the villains actually have to suffer for fighting for what they believe in. It wants to be Avatar: The Last Airbender, but instead it's as if Monk Gyatso was revealed to still be alive and reunited with Aang, if Katara got closure with her mother's spirit, if Yue attempted to sacrifice herself but then the problem is solved differently so she gets to live happily ever after with Sokka, or if Zuko got his scar healed....by Azula no less, who then still goes on to suffer a mental breakdown anyway. Actually, let me rephrase it: she suffers a mental breakdown after she gets scarred herself!

If a third arc happens, I'll watch it if I hear good things about it. But until then....

[ddejavvu]

oh my god i don't know if you are taking requests right now but i just saw a scene from al pacino's movie "the panic in the needle park" where there was a dialogue that goes "you know what you are?" "what am i?" "you are my girl". ahhh that's so cute! so i immediately thought of eddie. can you write a cute little something inspired by this dialogue? i love your eddie pieces.

i'm not gonna pretend to have seen the scene you're talking about so i have no idea how it was said/used but my brain went 'argument scene' so that's what i did here <3

--

"You're too impulsive, Eddie," You groan, pointedly looking away from his bleeding knuckles, "You can't just punch anyone who says something mean."

"I'm not impulsive." Eddie insists, and you play into dramatics to drop your jaw in a comically aghast expression, "I didn't punch him for shits and giggles, babe. He said something nasty about you."

"And you had the impulse to punch him. I'm not calling you unreasonable, I'm calling you impulsive. Because you are impulsive." You huff, arms crossed as you refuse to settle into the passenger's seat of Eddie's van. He's got the engine turned over, but you're stalling in the parking lot, one step away from taking the bus home from school instead.

Eddie's brow scrunches, "Yeah? Well, y'know what you are?"

Defensiveness places itself like a shield over your chest. Guarding your heart, it rears its ugly head, denting itself in preparation for words like nagging, ungrateful, god forbid bitchy to be thrown out.

"What?" You spit with sharp eyes.

"You're my girl." Eddie mutters, eyes narrowed with frustration, but not anger as he looks at you, "And I don't like it when people say mean shit about you. Okay? I just-" He glares sideways at his mirror for a split second, catching his own reflection in it, "Maybe I am impulsive. But it's- it's not an impulse to hurt people, okay? It's an impulse to protect you."

The defensive shield you'd thrown up melts with the surge of warmth that Eddie's statement brings to your heart. Falling away with it is weight you'd been carrying since the second your boyfriend's knuckles had connected with the sophomore's face, and you let it all escape in a sigh that drains your lungs.

You inhale, voice much softer now, "Eddie. I'm happy I'm your girl. Really, it's just- I don't need protecting. Or at least, not like that. You can protect me by saving me the headache I endure every time you knock someone's lights out over me."

You chance a glance at him, disarmed by his sentimental speech, and find his eyes similarly smooth to your voice. He reaches out with a cautious hand, the one that isn't red at the knuckles, and you don't hesitate to take it and hold onto it.

He cracks a sad smile, and you mirror the expression.

"I won't punch people anymore," He offers, his voice quiet, "Or- well. I'll try. You're right, I-" He drops his eyes to his lap, speaking softer than you'd have thought possible, "It's an impulse. But I'll work on it."

"Thank you," You gush, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, "And thanks for wanting to protect me, Eddie."

"Anytime," He seems almost embarrassed to pledge it, and you let it slide because you're both still getting used to dating and what that means. "Uh, do you still wanna take the bus, or-?"

"If you still want to take me home, I'll stay.' You muse carefully, "Do you still want to take me home?"

"Yeah," His careful smile gives way to an easy grin, a slight relieved exhale whooshing from his nose, "Buckle up, babe. We can stop for fries on the way."

"I want a milkshake instead," You decide, reaching for your seatbelt, "Is that okay?"

"Good taste," Eddie nods, eyeing you in the rear-view mirror, "I'll dip my fries in, and we can use it to ice my knuckles."

[sungjinhos]

TRACK N02. KAMIKAZE - CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

I love the beginnin', the moonlight is callin' I know we'll go up, but we'll end up freefallin' You mind if I need to come kamikaze, crash into your way?

✷ wordcount: 7.734 ✷ genre: angst, break-up, smut

✷ This work is a part of "The Loviest Time Universe" - A collection of stories inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen's album

✷ Thea's note: hi everyone this is finally out - the first installment of the loveliest time, hehe. But first let me say a few thank yous. To @ssinboo for giving this a read since the first draft and enduring my thoughts on Discord 24/7. A thank you to @dalamjisung for reading this when i thought this was too sad and nobody would read this. And a special thanks to @toruro mika you are the kindest, thank you for reassuring me when I thought this sucked and was too depressing <3 , and for beta-reading ♥ I hope you all enjoy this (even if it hurts) also seungcheol-enjoyers i am very very sorry. Kkuma 2nd appearance.

I saw you in the deep end A shipwreck underwater And I know I shouldn't want that

Loving Seungcheol was not an easy task, and you learned it in the hardest way possible. 

Loving Seungcheol seemed easy. He crashed into your life - loudly, fast. Often, you thought about it like a car crash in a movie scene - the part when everything gets upside down, and even the glass pieces flying around look kinda magical.

But you guess, after a while, the movie scene was just a little bit too loud and possibly a security hazard for everyone involved. 

A part of you really wanted to give your all, to sacrifice, to just give a little bit more of yourself to make it work, but lately, you have been so fucking tired and so alone that you don’t even have the strength to try anymore.

You loved everything about Seungcheol, you loved his laugh, you loved the way that Seungcheol made everyone feel cared for, you loved how he treated you and you loved how he loved you, and knowing all that made everything worse.

But Seungcheol had that power - he made sure to make you fall in love all over again every time he had a chance. And everything would be okay after a few hours in the same space as him, you would feel loved, he would smile, he would embrace you and everything would just feel right.

The problem was that lately, Seungcheol didn't have the time to make you fall in love with him.

If you thought about it, you couldn't even pinpoint the last time you saw Seungcheol. You know he dropped by before going overseas for his tour - four months long tour, for a quick fuck but before that you can't really remember because he was already busy with a comeback and rehearsal. 

And you tried your best to keep it cool, and you tried your best to deal with it on your own - Seungcheol was a constant topic in your therapy, and you tried to understand - of course his life is more glamorous than yours, of course he has the chance to go to all those beautiful places you can only see in pictures, of course it was work.

And you tried to bite your tongue and think how much of his life he had to give up in order to be where he is now. And it is his dream, his youth, his life really - so you can't make Seungcheol choose.

You know all that. 

And you try to use your brain instead of your heart. But when Seungcheol is in the same country as you, in the same time zone, and still has a problem reaching up, it still has a problem finding more than a 30-minute time slot, you know what you need to do.

You need to let him go.

It is a Monday when Cheol arrives on your doorstep, you let him in and everything seems so normal - the majority of times you two hang out was in your house, not a lot of dating outside, not a lot of going out with your boyfriend enjoying the city. 

You tried to brush it off and pretend you didn't care Seungcheol didn't have a normal life, so you two could have brunch on a sunday or a stroll in the nearest mall. 

"Hey baby I was thinking of ordering from that chinese restaurant god I am craving the food," Seungcheol says, crashing on your sofa like it is his own house, and it settles on you that it is almost like his second house, a hideaway, every time he had a problem he would just crash on your place. He had the keys, why didn't he open the door? Why were you always doing the job? Letting him in, let him crash into your life? Why couldn't you crash into his and set things on fire? "Baby? Are you listening?" Seungcheol calls, but you know he doesn't really care because his eyes are glued to his phone.

"Cheol I need your attention for a minute," you say, looking at him, trying your best to keep it straight, to not fall on the ground and cry.

"Okay okay just let me answer a few more texts. We are scheduling the next varieties right now so everything is a bit crazy," your boyfriend says, still not paying attention. And you ask yourself - has it always been like that? 

Did Seungcheol always come into your life, create havoc, crush everything on his point of view, take everything he could get his hands on and everything you could give him to not give five minutes of his time in return? 

"Seungcheol I really need you to put your phone down," you say again and you are so pathetic that you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your voice cracking up - and that's what calls Seungcheol's attention, eyes big on surprise.

"Love, are you okay? What happened?" he asks and now that you have his attention, his phone is screen down on your sofa, his eyes on you, you feel all certainty leaving your body because you miss him so much and he looks so tired your heart almost breaks because you feel like to Seungcheol you are just another thing he needs to take care of, to handle, to adjust in his crazy hours.

You feel like you are a plate spinning in the little stick, and you are about to fall down because Seungcheol forgot that he needs to spin you around.

"I'm really sorry, I-" you hiccup, and god you feel so fucking silly. 

"Baby what is going on?" Seungcheol's voice is low when he tries to wrap his arms around you, scared when you don't let him do it. "Baby you are worrying me," he says again when he watches you take steps away from him.

"You don't need to worry, everything is fine."

"Clearly everything is not fine, I am back after ages, and my girlfriend is crying in the living room," he says god you wish you could get angry and pick a fight with Seungcheol but you feel so tired, you feel so exhausted.

"I-" you try to start, but you feel your legs buckle and your heartbreak. "I think we should break up."

"What?" Seungcheol because that is the only thing he can say. Seungcheol feels like he is inside a car crash like he is the one getting upside down. He feels so blindsided by your decision, did... Did you find someone when he was away, or did you just fall out of love?

"I think we should break up," you say it again, more to yourself than to him, like you are making up your own mind.

"Can-" Seungcheol paces around, he actually feels his throat close and his tongue feels like sandpaper around the roof of his mouth, he can't even bring himself to actually look at you. But he finally does, seeing you sitting on the floor, back against a wall, hands holding your own hand, elbows on your knee, and you just feel so different. Seungcheol can't actually pinpoint what seems different, but you are, and you look so tired, what the fuck happened, how could he not see this coming? "Can I ask why?"

And you scoff, Seungcheol can see your whole body moving. Everything is so clear to you and so hazed to Seungcheol is like you two are in different directions speaking through a tin can telephone.

"I don't think this is working for me I-" you try to start, trying to dry your tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

"Did you find someone else?" Seungcheol blurts out.

"What?" You ask in actual disbelief, did he-

"Are you in love with someone else?" He says it again and you can wrap your mind around it, what he wants to mean with those silly accusations.

"Thats-"

"That's ok, I can take it, you can be honest with me," Seungcheol says again, trying to brace himself for the impact, preparing himself to hear the eyes falling out of your lips.

"You know what's funny?" You say without a hint of humor in your voice, "You actually prefer that wouldn't you? You would actually prefer the idea of being cheated on, of me being guilty of falling in love with someone else than to acknowledge that may be-" you hiccup, and try to breathe even though you can't do it through your nose, "that may be I am ending things with you because i can't deal with the shit show that is your life anymore, that I can't take being a second option anymore because your life is so fucking good that only someone crazy wouldn't want to share it with you." You pick yourself up, and you feel so angry, you feel so disrespected. You look at him, and god, even though you love him you know Seungcheol can't give you what you want, he can't give you coffee dates, he can't give you holidays, he can't give you the certainty of Valentine's days and birthdays. And even though you love him, even though you gave everything you could, even though you spent months and months on videocalls or just texts, even though you felt so fucking happy when he was by your side even though it meant a delivery and a night in, he is implying that you could cheat on him, like you could find someone like you are not broken enough to think that you could never love someone again like you love him. "Guess what Cheol, you don't share anything. You just take and take until the person doesn't have any more to give you"

And he stays silent like he doesn't have anything to say. Like he is trying to understand the situation, those hazy moments after the crash when you try to make yourself come back to reality.

"I am sorry I am really tired if you could-" you start, walking to your door.

"Do you-" Seungcheol starts and when he looks at you can see the tears around his eyes and you want to take everything back, you want to say you are sorry, you want to say it was just you're feeling lonely but now he is back, now everything is okay, you can deal with going to every working related dinner or party alone and lie when people ask why your boyfriend never comes. "Do you think I could do something different?"

"No," you say voice small, looking everywhere just so you can avoid Cheol's eyes. "I really love you, I love you so fucking much, I just can't deal with your life, I just can't deal with the loneliness that comes when you go MIA between shows because you are tired, I just can't deal with whole weeks gone just because you guys are working on a new album, and I can't deal having a boyfriend only inside the walls of my apartment, it hurts so fucking much Cheol and I just have nothing else to give you." you catch your breath, and you smell his perfume, and everything looks so out of place, how can a heartbreak make you nauseated, make you feel physically ill? "And even though I love you, I wish I could bring myself to ask for it, to make you give me what I want, but I know you and I know I can't ask you for that, and I know you enough to know that if I ask for it maybe I won't get what I want in return because you can't give what I want.

When Seungcheol leaves the only thing you do is cry. Like a child, on your bed, in a fetal position, hiccuping every few minutes. You cry so much that you fall asleep while doing it. In the morning when your alarm goes off, you can feel a headache. You think you will need a lot more than a painkiller. But you pick yourself up, and go to work and you regret it. You regret it when you see a fucking bus with Seungcheol's face plastered on it - his birthday is in three weeks. You regret it when you see it again on the subway, and when you open social media the news around his new album is across it - you think you need to delete every account Seungcheol related. 

You also regret when you see Mingyu's name on your phone screen. But when Mingyu calls you for the third time you know something must be wrong.

"Hello?"

"Hey can you- ok guys shut up, hi hmm” He says in a lower voice, “can you tell Seungcheol to hurry up he is a bit late we have scheduled in like 30-ish," He says across the line.

"Hm, Mingyu I really can't do that." You say almost laughing because his friends don’t call you ever, you have Mingyu’s number registered because once Seungcheol had a dead phone and he asked Mingyu to tell you he was arriving late - that’s when Seungcheol still cared you think, after that he just arrived late without telling you his schedule was running late.

"No really like it is a really important schedule."

"Mingyu Seungcheol is not with me right now you should call him-"

"Is he not? I mean he slept with you, right? Did he leave your house already?"

"No, he didn't sleep at my place last night-"

"No?" Mingyu asks and the line is dead silent before you pick yourself up and have the courage to tell you.

"Mingyu we broke up yesterday," You say in the lowest register ever, the last thing you wanted was Karen from the sales department eavesdropping on your conversation and asking if you needed a girl time.

"Why did you break up with him?" He asks and that makes your head spin a little, how did he know?

"Mingyu that's-" you breathe loudly, you want to smash the phone against the nearest surface, but you need patience, and to be honest Mingyu didn’t do anything for you to be rude, yes, you are angry but it is not Mingyu’s fault,  "That's really personal I'm sorry"

"Ok, sorry, yeah I overstepped for sure," you can hear the faint voices in the background, "Do you think you know a place he could've gone to?"

"No, I really don't, I am sorry, just" your bite your tongue because you think that’s overstepping too, but you say nonetheless,  "Just give me a heads up if you guys find him or if I need to worry ok?"

"Yeah, yeah."

And against everything - your rational mind and your broken heart, you call Seungcheol, because he still comes first, his well-being and state. Even if he is not picking Mingyu's call that stills a part of you that says that you are special enough to him that he may answer your calls. He doesn't. But you don't even have time to worry because Mingyu sends you a message saying that Seungcheol just showed up and he is fine.

And the reality of it crushes you. You are not the person that Seungcheol will pick up when everyone calls him, you are not the exception anymore.

What really hurts is when you think that maybe you never were. 

And the feeling makes you so physically ill that when you knock on your chief's door to say you are going back home because you feel unwell and gonna try to work remotely he just says you can take a day off because you are clearly looking like a fucking truck hit you.

The first few days make you wish Seungcheol was right. You cry so much you feel dehydrated and have a non-stop headache. So you wish he was right, you wish you did cheat on him, you wish you ended things because you fell. in love with somebody else. 

You don't delete his messages but you do archive the conversation because every time you open the app it is just there and the want to hover it, to go back, to look at it, to have Seungcheol back in your life is so big you ask yourself how can you carry such a burden.

When you reach the 7 days you feel like somehow you can breathe again, now crying only 25% of the time. It's painful how you get back into your routine very quickly, it makes you feel that Seungcheol was not a big part of it. The main thing you do is to just keep your phone away, check less social media - the last time his face popped up and you almost yetted the phone. 

On week two you do all the things that you wanted to do with Seungcheol, alone or with other people. You go to the new corner cafe with a book and order a lot of sweet treats. You go to the movies after a day of work because why not. You drive yourself to the beach, and even though it’s not really summer, the weather is nice enough. In a way you think you are a masochist, experiencing all of those things and reminiscing of what could be if Seungcheol was by your side. But every time you come home and your empty place greets you with the memory of Seungcheol and his belongings you think that masochism would be locking yourself up in a place where Seungcheol was most present in your life.

Week three is a living hell. It's Seungcheol's birthday and you catch yourself entering a store just because something nice enough to be his present caught your attention. When you pick up your phone to ask him if he prefers leather or wool the reality crashes into you. It makes your world spin a little, and everything is in slow motion when you go back home. 

It doesn't help that you still have a pair of shoes, some shirts, a few pieces of jewelry, and even toiletries that don't belong to you in your own house. You feel stupid when you cry, but you pick everything up and put everything in a box - but you still don't have the strength to contact Seungcheol and say that he needs to pick up his things in order to move on.

I'm just here for the weekend A wordless kind of offer And I'm hoping that you saw that

After a month you stop crying.

Even though you don't keep tabs in a tracker you know every month that passes by, and Seungcheol's box turns into a decorative item by your door. 

In a way, everything you know about Seungcheol is stored in the back of your mind, and sometimes it comes back to your conscious mind like an intrusive thought.

To be honest, Seungcheol still pops up daily in your life, his voice plays in the nice book store, his face shows up in the make-up store and now he is the face of your favorite lip balm, he shows up in the tv and again in the subway, he shows up in the news and in your favorite variety show - the first time you don't actually binge watch. You know when Seungcheol is blond and when he is not, you know when his hair is long or shorter. And even if you don't want to, you keep tabs on him.

But in reality, you can deal with it, you can deal with Seungcheol's absence when he doesn't come back to make you fall in love with him. 

And it gets easier. 

Or you get used to not having Seungcheol in your life, seeing him from afar, or not seeing him at all. After 3 months you think to yourself that for the first time, you feel like a human again. Like your feet are back on the ground. You can walk without crunches for the first time after breaking both legs. 

When it hits the six-month mark you think it is okay to remember, it is okay to think about it, it was a milestone after all. When you think about buying a cake for the one-year mark you think that maybe that's not normal. 

But maybe that’s the path of healing, the ups, and downs of it, healing is not linear - you think that you saw an Instagram post about it. And you just accept it, you don’t fight anymore about how you remember Seungcheol in the silliest things, when you look at something on the street, or when you start binge-watching a new tv show. But sometimes you also don’t remember him, sometimes you can go a few days without conjuring him in your mind - but you always end up losing the game when you think to yourself how you did not think about him.

'Cause I see you I fall back into the feeling like we've just begun Tell me, ooh Are you tired of being alone? You're not the only one

When you see Seungcheol, two years later, you just laugh and take a sip of your drink. It is really crazy how Seungcheol's absence makes you forget that one of your closest friends knew Seungcheol - he was the reason why you two met in the first place.

And yet you feel surprised to see Seungcheol in the same space as you after a while. And god why do your legs buckle and why is he so good-looking?

At the same time you want to turn and run, you are so freaking obsessed with seeing Seungcheol with your own two eyes after such a long time. God. You need a drink, you need a glass of the most powerful poison, you need courage and you need strength. 

But before you can turn Seungcheol has his eye on you.

And you want to run and scream when you see him walking into you. 

"Hey," Seungcheol says and he too looks like he is fine with everything, and you think if it has always been like that if Seungcheol almost didn’t get a scratch when you always left with a broken heart and broken bones   "I-" Seungcheol laughs. "This is weird."

"Yeah," you say drinking the rest of your drink in one gulp "They didn't tell me you were coming so-"

"Do we need to continue doing that?" Seungcheol asks and you can feel your head tilting like a damn dog, and Seungcheol's tint smile across his face confirms your suspicion- he always thought it was endearing. "Avoid each other I mean," he clarifies. 

And you want to say yes because you feel so weak on your knees. You feel like you are getting pulled - physical traction makes you throw away all that you learned in the past year, making you forget how difficult it was, how painful.

"I don't know, it is not the ideal but what is the other option?" You ask and don't even wait for Seungcheol to answer you when you look around - you need another drink, you are not doing this sober, you feel yourself close to tears and you can't cry sober - drunk you at least have an excuse to bawl everything out.

"Not hating each other?" Seungcheol scoffs, and you do the same.

"Sometimes I think about how we spent four years together," you say, going to the bar with Seungcheol by your side, you order a mojito while Seungcheol just brushes the guy off. Seungcheol is so close that you can feel your brain start malfunctioning. 

"Come on, I swear I didn't try to pick a fight if you want I can go I already said my wishes to the host so-" 

"Is not that," You feel so fucking frustrated, you can feel your heart in your throat. "I just-" You breathe loudly, maybe you should let him enjoy the party and go - he was the one that didn't show up in two consecutive years. "Look this is not the time or the place for us to have this conversation but the point is I never hated you - I never could, and to be honest never wanted."

Seungcheol just looks at you, his eyes big and mouth agape. 

And you wish you could hate him because it would be easier. And because if you hated him you wouldn't question yourself if it was the right decision, if you hated him you wouldn't be thinking about letting Seungcheol back in your life.

"Hey, hey-" you hear Seungcheol's voice behind you. 

Fuck you forgot the uber, so you do your best to ignore Seungcheol and pick up your cell phone, trying to open the app fast enough just so a car teleports in the street.

"Come on I can take you home," He says and you want to laugh really, what the fuck is on his mind.

"And would I say yes to that?"

"Look," Seungcheol’s hand goes through his hair and you know he is frustrated, and a part of you relishes that, in the way that you still know him even after more than 24 months apart, "I don't know how you are doing, and this can be me being fucking egotistical, but I have been thinking you hate me for two years, so if here is not the place then we can find a place, I would say my place but that would make me sound like a jerk so-"

"Cheol," you almost beg.

"I really just want to understand what happened, fuck-" And when you look again you see Seungcheol in such a different light, he is so tired, he looks so exhausted, he looks older, but not just older he looks jaded,  "It is been plaguing my mind since we broke up I can't fuck wrap my head around-" 

"Your house then."

"Ok, ok. Just so you know I have a dog." Seungcheol says while guiding you to his car and you just feel a pang in your chest because you know how he went on and on about how he wanted a dog, how you two could get a dog, how if he wasn't so busy, and far away half of the time you two should get a dog.

And God you feel so sad, you can actually feel everything building up inside your body, you can feel it in your throat. 

You heard and heard about the dog and you were not there, and that’s all you can think about the entire trip to Seungcheol’s house.

"This is Kkuma," Seungcheol says holding the dog up, when he sees that you are not in the mood to greet the cute creature he gives up. "Is this a mistake?"

"Probably," you say, looking at his living room - god when you two dated he didn’t have his own house. How much did you miss? How many milestones in his life were you not a part of? 

"I-" Seungcheol starts, making you look at him, "I just thought we could go back to good terms you know, I've been keeping tabs on you," and you don’t know why but you feel so angry, you feel like there is something growing under your skin you can’t quite name it. "Don't look at me like that, I wanted to know how you were, how you've been doing, and when I asked about you this last time he said I could show up so I thought you knew"

"I didn't"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he says, rubbing his palm against his pants in an attempt to dry it. "I mean for today and for everything I guess, I wasn't the best back then. I just thought-"

"What do you want from me Cheol?" You ask for the first time looking at Cheol's eyes, looking for the truth in it, searching for every little detail you can catch to make it make sense, but that just makes you crumble like a sandcastle against a wave, "I've been trying so hard- god"

"Hey, hey-" Seungcheol's hand close around your wrist, his fingers in contrast with your skin. "Don't cry please, don't cry, I always hated when you cried, hated every time I saw you in tears because of me." He says while getting closer to you, which just makes you cry a little bit more.

"I am so sorry, this was a bad idea, I can take you home if you want to," Seungcheol says with his arms around you - and god, you should've braced yourself from the impact, but you didn't and Seungcheol was just crashing into your life again.

"Yeah, and I was crazy enough to say yes to you," you say against Seungcheol's embrace and you are surprised when he picks up your muffled sounds.

"Why did you, say yes I mean" Seungcheol making space to look down at you.

"You know why Cheol," you say rolling your eyes at him.

"It's the same for me too, I guess," Seungcheol says tucking your hair behind your ears, "Maybe that's why I went after you today, fuck, that's why I talked to you really-" his lips find your forehead, and you can feel your heart in throat. You feel like your lungs are about to collapse, you can't breathe, "when I saw you I just-" He smells your hair like he used to do, his hand on your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. "it just felt like nothing had changed"

I know it sounds fatal, I know we made fires The ending's real clear and it won't take us higher Tonight, I might need to come kamikaze Crash into your way (Kamikaze, kamikaze)

You know Seungcheol, you can tell, you can anticipate every step. With Seungcheol it is like you have the ability to see the future in your lids. With Seungcheol even when he crashes and burns makes you think to yourself that you can take the fire against your skin.

And you miss the feeling - to be understood even when you don't have words, when the silence speaks for you when Seungcheol just knows what you need before you ask for it. That's why you broke things up, you think, maybe you felt the most loved when Seungcheol would anticipate every and each one of your needs, and the moment he stopped you felt so unseen.

When Seungcheol's lips find your cheeks, just below your eyes, you can hear the sound of your heart-shattering. Your hands tighten against his sides. 

"I missed you," Seungcheol says, his forehead resting against yours. "I missed this, missed us."

"Cheol," you beg because it is the only thing you can do, the only thing you can master.

"Let me take care of you," You can feel the way his hand goes to your nape, making you shiver, "Let me make you happy."

You just nod, because that's what you want. You want it so much that you could change the earth's axis, you could change the future and the past for it. And when you feel Seungcheol's lips against yours you think that ending the world would seem like an easy task if it was to achieve Seungcheol's love, to have his touch against your skin every day.

When you wrap your arms around Seungcheol's neck you know you are done for - you know you fell in love all over again.

And you do it because it is him, because it is Seungcheol, and he is the only one who could break your heart.

"You will, won't you?" Seungcheol says mouth against your jaw, hand still against your nape holding you in place, "Let me love you?"

"Don't say things like that," you whisper, tugging on Seungcheol's shirt. 

"Why baby?" He says kissing your jaw, his hand caressing your cheek, "god, I missed this," Seungcheol says when his breath in on your neck, rubbing his nose on it. "missed how you smell," his hand holds your waist and you feel so glad because you almost melting, "missing the way you taste," he says when his tongue laps at your skin, giving you a small kiss on the kneck.

The only thing you can do is try to anchor yourself, one hand splayed against Seungcheol's back and another one tugging at his hair. Seungcheol's hand goes around you, caging you against his body, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and putting it under your shirt.

And it is just so much, the way his hands feel hot against your back, keeping you upright. The way his lips feel against your skin, wet, across your cleavage. The way that his body feels hard against yours. 

It's just so much. To have all that again, you almost forget how to breathe.

Seungcheol is so big - physically yes, but his whole existence is so big, it makes you feel suffocated. Seungcheol is so big that you question yourself how you used to fit him in your heart.

But you choose not to think about it, not know. You call his name while tugging his hair, blindly searching his mouth. And you focus on Seungcheol, the way that his tongue feels against yours, the way that he holds you, the way that you feel how hard he is against your hips.

"Let me," Seungcheol whisper against your mouth before his hand found the back of your thighs and picks your up - and you do the only thing you can do, letting out a surprised noise and hugging Seungcheol. And you can feel how Seungcheol's smiles spread against the skin of your chest.

"Don't laugh," you try to scold him, hand tugging his hair again - when he let his hair gets so long? It was a newfound joy for you.

"-m not laughing," you hear Seungcheol say against your skin, his fingers dipping in the skin of your ass. 

When your back hits the mattress, you feel like you can breathe again for the first time, Seungcheol's body away from yours. Until his hand is back on your hips, making your heart skip a beat and your lungs collapse.

"You are so pretty," he says when his hands travel up against your body, lifting your shirt, Seungcheol's lips find the skin of your stomach, his hand pressing on your ribcage. Seungcheol looks at you, his tongue on your skin, linking a strip of it. 

The thing about Seungcheol is that he still remembers. He still knows what makes you melt, makes you hot, makes you whimper. And he does it so right that makes your head spin.

Seungcheol lifts your shirt up, pooling it against your neck. "Fuck-" Seungcheol starts again and you ask yourself how he doesn't feel tongue-tied like you, "so pretty like this," his digits touch your chest when the lace of your bra ends, and it is just so faint, you lift your chest searching for his touch.

"Can I?" Seungcheol asks and you don't even know what he wants but you are nodding. He tugs on your bra, letting your boobs free. His forefinger and his middle finger find your nipple, tugging at it lightly, making you whimper. "Always loved how you are so fucking sensitive," he coos.

Seungcheol's lips find your skin again, and the way he kisses the underside of your boob is so soft and so tender that makes your head spin a little. Seungcheol lowers his body against yours, making you open your legs a little to make space for him between them. 

Seungcheol kisses your sternum at the same time that his hands wrapped around your throat, he doesn't put pressure on it. But the mere fact that his hand is splayed on your windpipe makes you lose it, make you whimper. "God, missed this too, the way you sound" 

"Cheol," you want to complain but you can't because Seungcheol just licks one of your nipples, his free hand holding you in place for him to latch on it. You don't even know what to do - it is just too much, the feel of Seungcheol's hands on your body, of his mouth against your skin. 

When his mouth leaves your nipple with a low pop, his mouth doesn't leave your skin. "Don't worry babe gonna give it to you," you hear his voice low and muffled, "Gonna give you everything."

"Want you-" you say tugging at his shirt. And you feel so hot all over, you ask yourself how did you survive without his touch for so long, how did you survive with your skin against yours.

"I know, I know” Seungcheol coos and you just melt against the hand he places against your face, when he kisses you again you know you are doomed. “Just let me eat you first," he says putting his lips just below your ear, his body heavy and hot against you, "Missed your pussy too, missed everything."

"Don't talk like that," you beg and you don't hear it, but you feel the way that Seungcheol's body reverberates with a chuckle - and you take the opportunity to tug at your own shirt and bra.

"I know you like it," Seungcheol says opening the button of your pants and tugging at each leg.

"I don't anymore," you say just because you feel like you need to pick a fight really. To look like it is harder to rip you apart at the seams, to make Seungcheol think it is not that easy to wreck you. 

To make Seungcheol think it's harder to have you again.

"I know you do," Seungcheol says lifting your leg and kissing your ankle, and you feel if it's not normal to feel so much. "I can see you do still like it." Seungcheol's voice drops and you can see his eyes on your pussy, his knuckle pressing on it over your panties, you can see how wet it feels, and god you feel so ashamed because you want it so much, and because Seungcheol knows.

You can feel how red your skin is. Seungcheol lies between your legs. He rearranges your position, opening more your legs, putting one of your thighs on his shoulder. "Don't need to lie to me," He says before slowly biting on the meat of your thigh, his hands holding you in place when you buckle. 

Seungcheol kisses your pussy over your panties and you bite on your tongue, you hold yourself back. "God, I even miss the way you smell," Seungcheol says and you feel faint - and you tug at the sheet almost crying, almost begging.

But before you say anything you feel him tugging at your panties and you don't move, you just let Seungcheol move your body to his pleasure, taking your panties off but putting your legs the same way as before. 

You feel Seungcheol digits against your folds and you bite your tongue again - trying to hold back. But when his thumb presses on your clit you can't resist calling his name. "Shh, it's okay baby," Seungcheol says before his tongue is on you, making your head spin.

You ask yourself again how you survived without him. 

Because with Seungcheol was just so easy. 

Seungcheol doesn't ask what you like he already knows.

Seungcheol knows how to pin your hips down, with his hand splayed, because you like how strong he is. Seungcheol knows how to lick your folds, how to suck on your clit, how to tease you with his fingers. 

"Can you-" you try to ask for it, but when you look down between your legs you see Seungcheol looking at you, seeking your reactions, trying to catch every little detail, and before you can ask again Seungcheol is nodding against your pussy, mouth not leaving it for a second even thoughyou are bucking your hips.

And then you feel his fingers against your entrance. And it is Seungcheol he knows how you like it, but he knows too much, he teases you first, just the knuckle against your hole.

"Seungcheol, please," you ask again, accepting that you lost the war, accepting that you can't pretend anymore because you know Seungcheol will only give you when you ask for it.

But you asked for it so he gives to you. 

He starts fucking you slowly with his fingers, his tongue never leaving your clit. 

You feel like you are going insane, it's just too much - his hand’s strong grounding your hips, the way that his mouth closes against your clit, the way that his fingers enter you, the way his eyes never leave yours.

And before you can say anything you are cumming against his tongue, Seungcheol laps at it like he wants to feel your taste on his tongue, like he wants every drop of it.

"Always loved your mouth." You say before Seungcheol kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

Seungcheol lifts his body, kneeling on the mattress, and finally takes his shirt off, "wait," you call for him, and you look at him. And god he is so fucking pretty all over. He always has been. You touch him, hands against his stomach, and you wish you can make him feel like he does to you. 

You sit on the bed, Seungcheol's position making him taller than you, but it is not a problem when the difference makes it easier to kiss his pecs. And Seungcheol holds the back of your neck, his eyes again, never leaving you, making sure he sees every tiny fraction of every little touch. 

You don't know if you actually forgot, or, if you just locked the memories away in a tiny part of your brain, but when you see Seungcheol so pilant against your touch - against one of your hands on his stomach, the other touching his pecs and mouth sucking at his skins it is like it's unlock something on you.

"Did you miss it?" You ask hand working on Cheol's pants, palming him in the process.

"Hun?" He asks voice low, like he didn't catch the meaning behind the question.

"The way I make you feel," you answer, hand underneath his underwear, touching his hard dick. "Did you miss it?" You ask again, looking Seungcheol in the eyes.

"So fucking much," he answers and you can see how his body reacts to every single touch you give him, you lower Seungcheol's underwear, just enough so his cock springs free - red and leaking, and God you wish you could forget how many time Seungcheol split you open with his dick, but you can't, you think you remember each and every time, "Thought about it every day."

"Can you fuck me?" You ask Seungcheol, fingers wrapped around his dick, pumping him slowly, thumb rubbing against his tip, and you can see his body twitch, but Seungcheol just lets you do whatever you want with him.

"How do you want me?" he asks.

"You know how," you say it because it is true. Seungcheol knows how to eat you, how to fuck you, how to split you open, he knows how to make you feel good, and how to make you cry. 

"Come on," He says hand on your shoulder making you lay down again, and you whine because the action made you set his dick free "You asked me to fuck you" his hands wrap around your leg and make your body turn to the side. 

And it is just so hot, how Seungcheol can manhandle you, can make you turn and move, but still cave into every and each one of your whims. You ask and he answers it. You ask him to jump and he asks how high. 

Seungcheol lays on the bed, his front pressed against your back, his strong arms around you, his lips against your neck, his dick against your ass. 

Your mind goes back to how big Seungcheol is, how he doesn't let space for anyone else.

But you come back to reality when you feel Seungcheol's dick going against your pussy. Seungcheol mumbles against the skin of your shoulder, but you are so gone that you don't actually pay attention to it. 

When Seungcheol starts fucking you you are halfway there. You hold Seungcheol's arms, your nails marking his skin. "You take me so fucking well," Seungcheol says before his teeth find the flesh of your shoulder. "Do you need-" You don't let him finish, tugging at his hair, searching for his mouth - and the kiss is messy and sloppy, and when Seungcheol's fingers find your pussy again you just moan on his mouth.

"Are you-" Seungcheol asks, and you know what he wants to say in the way his hips fall in rhythm the way his other hand tightens against your ass, the way with every stroke he goes deeper and deeper. And you nod because it is the truth, you are so close to it that you feel like your bones are melting.

And you just let it hit you, let the wave of the orgasm wash over your body. And you know Seungcheol is close by the way he pants against your neck, by the way, his strong hands hold your thigh - until you feel him cum on you.

You can feel your heart beating against your chest. You can feel the way Seungcheol's dick slips off you, and the way your back feels sweaty against his chest. You squirm a little trying to put some distance between your bodies.

"Stay," Seungcheol murmurs against your shoulder while enveloping you in his embrace, tugging you closer and you do. You stay because Seungcheol still makes you fall in love with him every single chance he gets, but your mind is still wrapped around the feeling that maybe, you two, are not meant to be, one of the lovers that could be so fucking beautiful and that marked your life, that is a before Seungcheol and after Seungcheol in your life.

But, deep down you know, that you just got tired of asking for more.

Now you don't want a lover that you need to ask for it - even though you know Seungcheol would never say no to you, but for once, you think that you want someone who gives to you without being asked for.

I love the beginning, the moonlight is calling I know we'll go up but we'll end up freefalling

[sidekick-hero]

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

[lazyalani]

| Itoshi Rin × [GN!Reader]

| What are you so scared of?

| Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship Trope, Rin breaks down, Not Proofread

| Summary: Rin thinks keeping your relationship a secret is the best for both you, however, he didn't think the consequences of it over, but it'll be fine.

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

In highschool, you always dreamed about moving in together with your partner when you get older. You thought everything through, from thinking about the sweet things, sleeping in, cuddling, movie nights, home greetings, and how to deal with aftermath of arguements.

At 25 years old, you finally decided to ask your boyfriend of 4 years, Itoshi Rin, if you could move in together, in which he declined as less harsh as his moody mouth can.

You had no objections really, although you were a bit disappointed, but you never really dwelled on it because what was important is you have your relationship.

Is what you wanted to think.

Rin has always been intent on keeping your relationship a secret. You had agreed upon it ofcourse, thinking you'd be able to endure until he decides to reveal it. You thought that it'd be fine, that you'd be able to handle the thirsty and wild comments other people gave him knowing he's all yours at the end of the day. You thought you'd be able to handle the scandals he had with models, actresses, other athletes. It turns out you couldn't.

In the 4 years of your relationship, never once have you both go on a date outside. No coffee shop dates, no shopping dates, no cinema dates, no arcade dates, nothing. It was always indoors, in your apartment, and never his. It was safer, he said. Or was he just scared? You thought it didn't matter if all you could do was have couch movie dates, all that mattered was you both could have each other like that. That you could have him in your arms, falling asleep in the middle of the movie, tired from practice.

It wasn't enough, afterall.

It hurt. It hurt to walk by him getting interviewed publicly, surrounded by fans, pretending not to know each other. It hurt to cheer for him during games, knowing no one knows you were his partner, knowing you couldn't announce your presence, the presence of his lover. It hurt to see him at the end of the day, finally being together after not seeing each other for days, weeks, months, just falling asleep because you're both tired. It hurt to see your conversation with him, so plain, like you're just aquaintances. It hurt to open your social media, your feed being continously flooded by news of him, be it interviews, modeling for brands, with his teammates, and scandals. It hurt to hear him saying he isn't in a relationship.

It hurts you that you're tired.

You didn't know what actually sparked you to ask him the question.

Both of you were sitting on your couch, in the middle of your 'date', your mind elsewhere, thinking about everything.

Was it because your patience had finally snapped? Was it because you were tired from work? Was it because of your headache fueled by the constant loud sounds from the movie? Or was it because you knew while you were so worked up about your relationship, Rin didn't care at all?

"Hey, Rin."

He paused the movie, "Hungry?"

You shooked your head. "No, actually.."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"I am, practice---"

"No, I meant from this." You gestured to everything around you.

"I don't understand, [Name], be more clear." He frowned.

"Of this kind of relationship, Rin." You finally said.

It was silent.

And then he sighed and looked away.

"You said you were okay with this." He replied.

"I was," He took note of the past tense used. "until I wasn't anymore."

He frowned harder and looked away, sighing. "What do want me to do? I can't--"

"That's exactly it, Rin! You can. You just don't want to." You raised your voice a little higher.

"I'm an athlete, [Name]."

"So what?"

"I can't just say I have a partner all of a sudden." He exclaimed, getting frustrated. Everything in his sight was starting to get red.

"Why not? They're not your owner, you're not a dog, Rin." All of his answers didn't make sense to you, but deep inside, you knew exactly the reason why he doesn't want you exposed.

"Ofcourse I know that. It's just that.."

"What? It's just that what, Rin? What are you so scared of?" You shooked your head, your chest starting to hurt.

Silence fell over the two of you, only the small, low background noises of the long forgotten movie being heard.

Rin couldn't bring himself to answer. He'd asked himself the same question a thousand times before too, choosing to ignore because you said it was okay, afterall. You were okay. He never pondered on it too long because he thought he didn't need to as long as you were okay with it. He didn't dwell on it too much because he thought the answer would just come to him one day and all that mattered was that you said it was okay. He chose to be ignorant because he thought he'd be able to tell everyone about you soon and the only thing he cares about is that you were okay.

But everytime he thought he was ready, he couldn't do it.

Now infront of you, as you ask the same question, he asks himself again.

"What am I so scared of?"

Was it of your safety from his fans?

"What am I so scared of?"

Was it yours and his privacy?

"What am I so scared of?"

Was it his brother's opinion of him?

"What am I so scared of?"

Or was it his reputation?

Everything clicked. Sae. Reputation. Fans. Media. Privacy. Soccer.

He was afraid of losing everything.

He was afraid of losing everything he worked so hard for. He was afriad of ruining the career he worked hard for since he was a kid. The career he worked day and night, head to toe, blood and sweat, physical to mental. He was afraid of what everyone would think of the hardworking, serious, amazing, egoist Itoshi Rin.

The praise and recognition he has long wanted has finally come and he was afraid of losing it. The acknowledgement he wanted from his brother, he got from the world, and he didn't want to lose it. And because of his selfishness, you, the only person who knows who he is inside, is hurting. He was greedy. Too afraid of letting go of the fame, and too afraid of losing the only one who truly understands him.

Greedy. Selfish.

Yet, as he stares at your teary eyed self right now, leaning on the hand rest of the couch, why does everything seem so simple? Why is everything suddenly so clear?

Rin does not understand what's happening. So he decides to do what he thinks of first.

He stares at you and asks himself. What am I so afraid of?

His arm encases around your trembling form, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Your eyes teared up more. You thought he finally had enough. You thought he thinks you were being too pushy and clingy that he decided to break it off. So why is he letting out gentle, comforting words and caressing your hair so softly. So tender.

"Losing you. There is nothing I'm more afraid of than losing you." He says, breathless. Seeing your breaking form infront of him like that, it made him realize, why was he so caught up in a sport where his obssession came out, born out of spite and love for his brother, to the point that he was prioritizing it over you.

You, who understood him. You, who never turned your back on him. You, who stayed with him through his bad times. You, who was always there for him. You, who he didn't need to ask for attention because it was always on him. You, who he never had to prove anything because you tell him how amazing he is. You, who always recognizes him. You, who loves him despite everything he is. You, who loves him despite everything he is not.

"They, and my career, will never matter as much as you do." He sighs, heavily, but relieved. His eyes sting. "I - I'm sorry."

Your tears finally fall down. You didn't know if it was in joy, in sadness, or in relief.

He kisses the top of your head as you hold on to his arms that were surrounding you. "I'm sorry for being an asshole. I'm sorry for not seeing that you weren't okay anymore. I'm so for being ignorant. I'm sorry for not realizing it sooner."

You shooked your head repeatedly. "I - It's okay. It's okay now, love. I forgive you." You sniffed.

He shooked his head too. "I'm sorry for being a bad boyfriend. And Thank you. For everything."

You smiled, still teary eyed, against his chest.

"I'll - I'll tell everyone about us -- hell I'll tell the whole world about us. I'll, I'll never let you feel that again. Nothing will matter as long as you're here. I'm sorry for being selfish and greedy. I'm sorry for not taking note of your feelings before. I'm sorry for--" He rambled on, his breath hitching.

You break free from his hug and kneel on the couch, now taller than him who was sitting, you brought his face on your hands and kissed his forehead, his hands holding onto the ones on his cheeks. He closed his eyes, feeling your warm hands comforting his panic and you kissed the tears falling down his eyes.

"Shhh.... Everything is alright now, love. I forgive you, and I love you."

"I love you, [Name]. Thank you, thank you, for being with me. Please - please don't leave I-"

"Shhh... We'll be fine, hm? We can fix this. It's alright, Rin. We'll be fine." You continue to hold him, not minding your own tears falling from your face.

Rin felt relieved and happy. He didn't care if you were both wet with tears right now. What matters is that you're okay. You're both okay. Everything's okay. And this time, he'd make sure it lasts. All that matters is you're still here with him. He'll be fine as long as you're with him.

All that matters is you.

[cre8inghavoc]

What are Friends For?

PT. 2

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 2185

Description: Characters are aged up. After months of enduring her boyfriend's emotional abuse, Y/N found the courage to stand up for herself. She confronted him, refusing to tolerate his hurtful behavior any longer. In that moment, she broke free from the curse of their toxic relationship, reclaiming her independence and beginning a journey of healing. Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.

Maki dropped you off at home ridiculously early, like 6 am early. But with a long list of errands to run and a breakup conversation that you were not looking forward to, you didn't have time to dwell on it. You just wanted to get this day over with. 

Your friends wanted to hang out later to cheer you up after the breakup, but you needed to clear your head first.

The thought of breaking up with your boyfriend made your stomach swirl. It wasn't the act itself that scared you, but rather his reaction. Would he explode in anger, or worse, shrug it off like it meant nothing? Neither option sounded appealing. You didn't want a dramatic showdown, but you also didn't want him to be emotionless. Would that mean he never loved you?

The constant back-and-forth overthinking was giving you a headache. Did you want him to fight for us, or would it be better if he just accepted it peacefully? It was hard to say. All you wanted was to focus on your errands and distract yourself, but your mind had other plans. No matter what, he seemed to be all you could think about.. And not in a good way, but when was it in a good way anyways? 

9:15 AM.

Knock knock.

Was that Maki already? You distinctly remember telling her to come by at 9:45 AM… Maybe she decided to show up early and grab breakfast before heading out for our errands together. With that thought in mind, you made your way to the door with a big smile. But as soon as you opened it, your smile quickly faded into a blank expression. Surprise. It's him.

You stand there, just staring at each other in silence for a moment. You take in his appearance - messy hair, wrinkled clothes, and that tired look in his eyes. He look like he just woke up… You know it's early, but still. Then, you notice something off. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, and there's a strange scent lingering around him. Sweat, mixed with... could it be a hint of perfume? Wait. Is he... drunk? Putting together all the clues, I'd say there's a solid 90% chance he is.

"Hey babe~" Your boyfriend slurs, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol. Scratch that, he's 100% drunk. The familiar pet name makes you cringe hard, even though it used to be a regular thing between you two. Now, it just feels weird... and not in a good way. Is it because you're losing feelings? Probably. But also, he doesn't deserve to call you that. He never did, and you shouldn't have let him. You shouldn't have let him take control the way he did. He's hurt you so many times. So much so that you understand why your friends never liked him. And honestly... You don't like him either.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your tone tinged with confusion. You don't want him inside your house, especially not in his current state. So, almost subconsciously, you step out onto the porch and close the door behind you. Thank god he's too drunk to realize, or else he’d make that small thing a big problem.

"Whattt? Can’t come to s-say hi to my girlfrienddd~" He slurs again, and the possessive term “his” girlfriend sends another wave of discomfort through you. You don't want to be his, not anymore. Then, out of nowhere, he leans in close.

Oh, no.

Fuck.

He's about to kiss you. Panic sets in. You can't even bear his presence, let alone the thought of him claiming you as his girlfriend. You don't want to kiss him. You CAN’T kiss him.

Subconsciously, you blurted out, "Ew…" and it visibly angered him. He pulls back quickly, glaring at you with frustration evident on his face. 

"The fuck. Why the fuck did you say that?" he snaps.

Your face flushes with embarrassment as you realize what you just said. It's like the words slipped out before you could stop them. You panic, scrambling for an excuse. "Sorry! Your breath just smelled like really strong alcohol and I just didn't expect it…"

Smooth, Y/N. Not the worst lie, but definitely not your finest moment.

As you step back, your eyes catch something on his neck. A purple spot. No, it can't be... can it? You reach out and pull down the collar of his shirt, confirming your suspicions. It's a hickey. Unbelievable. You're not sure how you're supposed to feel. Angry? Sad? Heartbroken? But strangely, you just feel... disappointed. Disappointed in his actions, yes, but more so disappointed in yourself for sticking around through all the misery, only to have him cheat on you.

"Is that a hickey?" You question him, but that question only seems to piss him further. You can't recall ever seeing him this angry before. "Are you fucking accusing me of cheating on you? You're fucking pathetic, Y/N," he scoffs, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. "You're the one who went to a boy's house yesterday, and you're calling me a cheater? You know what, fuck you. You're just a bitch. You always like playing the victim card, don't you? It's always about you and your fucking drama. Maybe if you weren't a fucking whore trying to find attention from your little guy friends, I wouldn't feel the need to seek affection elsewhere. Fuck you. You're a nobody, and you will never be worth anything. No one wants an overthinking, paranoid, insecure, anxious fucking bitch. You're pathetic, truly. If your mind wasn't fucked up, maybe I would've loved you."

His hurtful words pierce through you like daggers, but it's his final remark that cuts deepest. "If your mind wasn't fucked up, maybe I would've loved you." Fucked up? YOU? FUCKED UP? You wouldn't feel this way if he hadn't treated you like absolute fucking shit. His comment triggers something inside you, igniting a fire of rage you've never felt before. For the first time ever, you stand up for yourself.

"You're a fucking liar. You're the one that's fucked up. Have you ever thought that the only reason why I have anxiety and overthink is because of YOU," you seethe, pointing a trembling finger at him. "YOU'RE THE FUCKING REASON I'M LIKE THIS, ASSHOLE. I'm so done with this. I'm done with you. We're fucking over. Do not ever talk to me again."

You realize that everyone in the neighbourhood could hear the whole ordeal, both of you yelling and hurling insults at each other. But at that moment, you didn't care. For the first time ever, you said what you always wanted to say, and it felt good.

What you didn't anticipate was how much this would enrage your now ex-boyfriend. Before you knew it, he had clenched his fist and swung it right at your face. Fear courses through you like never before. Fuck… Was he about to hit you? You knew he was capable of sinking low, but this... this was a new low.

"HEY!" A commanding voice breaks through the chaos, causing your ex's fist to freeze in midair. He quickly withdraws his hand and turns to face the person who interrupted him. Standing there was a tall man, dressed in a black hoodie and track pants. It's obvious he's out walking his two dogs, both of whom sit obediently by his side like they’re his bodyguard's. You find yourself catching your breath, relieved that this stranger arrived just in time, potentially saving you from further harm.

Your ex's retort is sharp and defensive. "What the fuck do you want? Can't you mind your fucking business? I'm trying to talk to my girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," the tall man corrects with a firm expression, catching you off guard with his confidence, especially considering he doesn't even know who you are. A soft smile tugs at your lips as your ex rolls his eyes and walks away.

 Finally, he's gone.

The tall man hurries over to you, his dogs following his move. "Are you okay?" he asks, his concern evident despite his neutral expression.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you... for helping me," you reply softly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Of course. Did he hurt you?"

"No... but if it weren't for you stopping him, I don't know how far he would've gone." A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. His hands gently cup your face as he wipes away the tear with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. You find yourself getting lost in his eyes, a captivating dark blue unlike any you've seen before. They remind you of the night sky, filled with stars and the moon... oh, how you love the moon. You both share a prolonged gaze, completely lost in each other, until the sound of a car pulling up and a honk breaks the moment.

It's Maki; she's here to pick you up, and you've completely forgotten about your plans. He slowly withdraws his hands from your face, still not breaking eye contact.

You quickly turn your head away from him, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Are you blushing? Oh no...

"Sorry... My friend is here to pick me up, and she gets very impatient... Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you so much for your help. I really appreciate it," you manage to say, giving him a genuine smile.

He chuckles softly and returns the smile. "I'm glad you're okay. Have fun with your friend. Tell her to become more of patient person."

You giggle at his response. "Will do!" you reply as you walk towards Maki's car. Once you get in, you wave at the man, and Maki drives off. You can't shake off the feeling of his soft voice and gentle touch lingering on your cheek. God, his touch felt good.

"So... are you going to tell me who that was or...?" Maki interrupts your thoughts.

Shit. You were too deep in thought to realize you were silent for practically five minutes.

"Omg... it's a long story..." you begin, explaining everything to her in detail. Her facial expressions change almost every two seconds, from happy to angry, to relieved, and then happy again.

"Wow... holy fuck, Y/N. That was a fucking rollercoaster. BUT I'M SO PROUD OF YOU FOR BREAKING UP WITH HIM!" she exclaims with extreme excitement.

You giggle at her response. "You're too much sometimes," you tease.

After running errands, you and Maki head out for dinner, and by the time you get back, it is already 10:30 PM. As you both enter Yuta's house, Maki bursts in with her hands in the air.

"GUESS WHO'S SINGLE, BITCHES!!!" she yells in excitement.

Inumaki stands up in shock. "You broke up with Nobara??!!"

Maki's face twists in confusion. "WHAT? NO! What the fuck, Toge."

"Then who??!!" he asks, still clueless.

You start dying of laughter as Yuta and Maki exchange looks before turning back to Inumaki, as if he's the slowest person in the room... which, let's face it, he is, but you'd never tell him that.

"Y/N, you idiot," Maki finally spits out.

"OH MY GOD! YES, FINALLY," Inumaki exclaimed excitedly.

Yuta and Maki slap their foreheads simultaneously. "You're actually so slow," they sigh in unison.

Yuta stands up and walks over to you, enveloping you in a hug, followed by the others.

"You know what time it is!" Yuta says, hinting at something you're clearly unaware of.

"Club time!!!!" Maki chimes in excitedly.

"What?! No, no, no, guys... It's too late, and I'm so tired..." you interject.

"You agreed we would celebrate your breakup..." Inumaki reminds you.

"Yeah... but the club?" you question.

Maki quickly responds, "Nobara invited me and told me to bring you guys too since she knows about your breakup. She thought it would be nice to distract yourself, plus you'll finally get to meet her and her friends too!"

Their expectant gazes make you feel guilty for not wanting to go. They just want you to feel better, and honestly, it's a good way to distract yourself. Well, not from your ex... but from the tall man who saved you. Fuck. You didn't even get his name or his number. Wait... why are you thinking about him so much? You don't even know him... Oh my god, you're so screwed.

"Okay, fine. When are we going?" you concede.

"Now," Yuta says, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the house, with the others following and getting into Maki's car.

The music is blasting, and the lights are flickering like crazy as you enter the club. You haven't been to a club in a year, so being here with your friends actually feels kind of nice... You all head to the bar and start downing shots one after another. After your fourth shot, you start feeling the alcohol kick in. As you reach for another shot, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a voice whispering in your ear.

"Slow down..."

Wait... this voice... It sounds so familiar. You turn your head quickly and see who it is.

No way.

It's him...

TAGLIST

@nikkimvriee , @xbarrjallenx , @atinymonbebestay , @1l-ynn

GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND LOVE!!!! <3 you don't understand how happy it made me reading your comments hehe

AND FINALLY SHE BROKE UP WITH THAT PIECE OF SHIT!

GO Y/N!!!! She's making me so proud 🥲