#i have so many things to say about this chapter but i'm busy crying so i'm zolu shitposting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence.

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife.

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for.

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time.

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else.

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know. But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

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EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated.

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief. “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

“I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

“Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless.

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back��painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there.

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

Text

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART EIGHT

previous chapters | yall are absolutely fucking incredible. truly. i never could have ever expected the response to the last chapter and i'm so so SO grateful to everyone who's been contributing their thoughts and theories over the past week. your engagement and passion for this story means the world to me. so many people wanted so many different things for this chapter and i know i can't please everybody, but i hope this satisfies most of you. thank you so much for being here and for loving this story. here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you don't know what to think after catching joel at the bar. tasha wants to help in the best she knows how - getting fucked up. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexual assault (nothing to do w joel), alcohol, almost penetration word count: 13.6k ao3

You've never felt like this before.

Tasha practically has to drag you into a cab, gripping tight to your hand with an arm around your back as she gives the driver the address of where you're both staying. He barely bats an eye to the fact that you're practically inconsolable, tears streaming steadily down your face as you gasp and sob and stare at the floor with wide eyes. He's probably picked up countless passengers in similar situations and it's not like you can bring yourself to feel any sort of embarrassment over it.

"Shh," she soothes you, still rubbing your back and peering down at you with empathy in her eyes, an expression that somehow makes you feel even worse - she'd told you this might happen. She'd known all along, but you hadn't wanted to believe anything she said about the lack of definition in your relationship with Joel. You'd chosen to believe differently, believe that he was different than the guys your friends have encountered.

How could you have been so stupid?

It's your own fault you're even in this position now, crying in the back of a cab while Joel makes out with some woman in a bar you don't belong in. Your own fault for putting any ounce of faith in someone else for once, for choosing to be blind to the obvious - of course he doesn't want you. Of course you're not his priority. You're not his girlfriend. You're his fuck buddy. You're a warm body and nothing more.

You don't speak for the entire drive, just cry and try desperately to control your breathing. By the time you reach the Airbnb your throat hurts from the sobs, although throwing up on the sidewalk could also have something to do with it. You're just a mess, lightheaded and distant as Tasha guides you into the house and helps you settle on the couch.

"Stay here," she says softly, grabbing a throw blanket and carefully covering your loose and exhausted form, "I'm gonna go get some necessities, okay? This place doesn't have shit."

You nod slowly, just to let her know you acknowledge her words, though you're unsure exactly what necessities she's talking about. She reaches her hand down and strokes your cheek, still looking at you with that sad expression.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she repeats to you for probably the fortieth time in the past hour.

You close your eyes; you can't stand to see the pity on her face.

Tasha returns shortly after with her "necessities", which mainly consist of junk food and alcohol. You haven't moved an inch from where she'd left you, still laying on the couch with bloodshot eyes and a quivering mouth. You listen as she busies herself in the kitchen, putting together some sort of snack platter for the both of you that you already know you won't eat. You're not hungry. You've never been less hungry in your life.

"You were right," you finally manage to croak out as she seats herself beside you on the couch, placing the food on the coffee table and turning to you with that familiar look of pity, "He's just like the rest of them."

She shakes her head, "No, that's not true, I never said that," she rips open a bag of chips and starts munching, seemingly lost in thought.

"Oh, we're gaslighting now, are we?"

She raises an eyebrow, "Girlie, tell me when I said what you just said."

"Boys are mean," you quote hastily, turning a bit on the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

"Yes, it's true. Boys are mean. And so are men," she sighs then, dropping the chips back on the table, "Look, I'm not defending him, I promise, but-"

"Tasha," you state coldly, still staring at the ceiling, "Do not continue that sentence."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"Yes, I do," you shut your eyes and bring your hands to cover your face, feeling the tears starting up again, "You're gonna tell me we never defined what we had, that he was never my boyfriend, that this can't constitute as cheating because there was no relationship to begin with."

She's quiet but you can still feel her looking at you with that sadness, that sympathy, the look of someone who's been here before and knows how it feels. And it makes you so angry. Because-

"Joel wasn't supposed to do this," you continue, softer now, voice shaky as the tears flow down your temples and into your hair, "He's not a boy, he's not like the guys you date. He- he was different, I-" you choke, throat tightening at the thought of him, the image of him with her at the front of your mind again, "I thought he- I thought that we-"

You can't continue, words turning into cries and sniffles turning into sobs. You feel Tasha's hand on your calf, stroking your skin gently despite the fact that you just criticized both her own judgement and her taste in men in the same breath.

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," she says soothingly, "That's the last thing I wanna do. If anything I'm trying to tell you that this doesn't necessarily make him an asshole."

You scoff at that, "Right. Makes sense," you finally pull your hands down to look at her through your tears, brow furrowing, "Tasha he was kissing her. That- that woman, he was- he touched her face."

"I know he did," she murmurs with a frown, eyes casting downward, "And I know it hurts, but-"

"But nothing," you find yourself tossing the blanket to the floor and standing up shakily, not bothering to even look at Tasha as you stomp toward the bedroom. "I don't need this right now," is the last thing you say before slamming the door behind you.

She doesn't follow you. This is the first time you've ever yelled at her, the first time you've ever felt truly mad at her, and even though you know deep down that this isn't her fault... you still feel betrayed. Betrayed by Tasha's nonchalance, betrayed by Joel's actions, but worst of all - betrayed by yourself.

Because how did you manage to get into this mess in the first place?

You practically rip the too-tight and too-short pink dress off your body and stagger to the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers. You still feel sick, lightheaded and woozy as you press your face to the cool pillow and try to collect yourself. You can't get the image of the woman out of your head; you hadn't even seen her face and yet it's like she's somehow consuming every fiber of your being. All you can see behind your closed lids are those long, perfectly styled braids hitting her bare waist, skin a deep and rich brown that almost sparkled under the bar lights, the way her bare ankle traveled up and down his leg, the soft curve of her cheek as he'd cupped it in his hand-

A sob wracks through you and you pull the other pillow toward yourself, wrapping your legs and arms around it like a koala, remembering how less than twenty four hours ago you'd been in a bed just like this one - except it hadn't been a pillow you were cuddling. And now, what? Who's in that bed now? Another woman? That gorgeous woman who you don't stand a chance against?

You're sure Tasha can hear you crying but she doesn't come, staying in the living room and giving you the space you need. You already feel awful for snapping at her like that - you know she means well, that she's just trying to alleviate the situation in her own way, but you barely even know how you feel about it.

And how do you feel? Hurt? Sad? Angry? Of course you feel all of those things, to a degree you've never felt them before, but underlying all of those emotions is something else entirely, something you can't quite put your finger on - or would rather not put your finger on, because doing so would mean finally admitting something you're not sure you're ready to admit yet.

You try to think about your relationship with Joel up to this point, try and pinpoint the exact moment it went from being something frivolous to being something real, but you find that it's impossible to do so. For you, you could say the moment you walked past his threshold was when it became official. Or when he touched you for the first time. Or when he kissed you. When he made you come. When he called you his babygirl. When you touched his cock. When he put his mouth on your pussy. When you woke up this morning completely naked in his bed.

Any of those moments could have been the moment. But a gnawing voice in the back of your mind reminds you that any of those moments could have equally not been the moment as well. Maybe there was no moment. Maybe this really has just been a whole lot of nothing.

But then you think about the way he looks at you. The way he treats you.

The way he'd comforted and reassured you last night, held you, made you feel safe and secure - "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

The way he'd shared his insecurities with you over the phone, been vulnerable, honest and open - "I don't want you to look at me differently".

The way he'd dressed up just in case your mother took you to your lesson, looking like he was ready to attend a church service, purposely putting himself in uncomfortable clothing to make sure things went smoothly - "I wanted to make a good impression."

The way he'd told you about his past on his back deck, related his own childhood to yours, tried to calm your own fears and tell you things would be okay - "You gotta focus on what's right for you, on livin' the life you want, not worryin' about what they'll think".

What did any of it mean? What does any of it mean? Has it just been sex this whole time or does he actually care about you? And if he does, why would he kiss someone else?

And what if he's been kissing someone else... fucking someone else... this entire time? What if it's not just you he's been seeing? The thought makes you want to throw up all over again.

You hear a peal of laughter from the other room, a sound that feels odd in the silence and sadness of the bedroom where you lie. Tasha must have put on a movie or something. You feel bitterness rise in your throat, a sudden urge to run out to the living room and grab the remote and toss it out the window, scream at her for finding something to laugh at when you're literally falling apart at the seams.

But the bitterness fades when you hear her laugh again; you love that laugh, have missed it ever since you came home. Tasha has always had such a free and fun way about her, a natural joy that you've always envied. You'd watched her go out night after night over the past three years, come home with the most bizarre stories that you were never able to fully relate to, and yet she always tried to include you in some way, ask you questions, make you laugh.

You remember the looks of shock you'd received from the other girls when you'd first shared that you were a virgin, that you'd never done anything except kiss. She'd sensed your discomfort immediately, seen your embarrassment, and had quickly flipped the conversation to something else more shocking, more embarrassing - at her own expense. Easier than flipping a light switch. And any time it was mentioned after that, she'd always emphasize how lucky you were, how she wished she'd taken her time, how all you were missing out on was bonehead losers who didn't know how to please a woman.

She's always reassured you, always listened, and has always been your number one fan, even when you had nothing to give. You'd told her all about your upbringing, about the way you'd begun to question everything, and she'd given you her own two cents and made you feel better for the first time in a long time. And when you'd told her you were coming home for the summer she'd said, "Are you sure that's gonna be okay for you?"

You trust her. So why are you in this room avoiding her? Why aren't you listening to what she has to say?

With heavy limbs you manage to climb off the bed and tug on your pajamas, wiping your eyes and letting the sadness and humility settle for just a moment. Yes, this is a fucked up situation. But Tasha wants to help you. Let her.

A few moments later you find yourself back on the couch, this time with Tasha's arm around you as she pours you a glass of wine and shakes away your apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she tells you softly, "You're upset, I get it."

You sigh deeply and take a sip, wincing at the bitterness but making no move to put it back on the table. "So," you murmur hoarsely, "Why is he not necessarily an asshole?"

You stay up late talking for hours about the situation and listening to Tasha's theories, most of which center around a lack of communication - based on her own personal experiences. She also has to factor in the fact that Joel is a lot older, a detail she's still beyond surprised over.

"I just can't believe he's fifty six," she faux whispers the number with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Like... this man knows things. How to take care of you, ya know? You're luckier than you realize."

"Lucky," you scoff, "Yeah, that's one way to describe how it feels."

She slaps your hand playfully, "I'm serious. This is yet another reason I think you just got your signals crossed here. I refuse to believe he's trying to hurt you, especially after how considerate he's been with you up until this point. If this was just about sex he would have dropped you ages ago, honey. I mean, no offense but you're not exactly making it easy for him, are you?"

She's certainly blunt. But she's also right. Joel has been nothing but patient with you this entire time, never expecting anything more than what you've been willing to give. If it was just about sex, this thing between the two of you wouldn't have gone beyond that first day in his house when you'd told him you were a virgin.

You slowly begin to come to the conclusion that you should give him the benefit of the doubt. As much as what you saw hurts, as much as it makes you want to crawl in bed and never get up, you were never Joel's girlfriend. There was never an establishing conversation, never a moment where you laid your heart on the line and told him exactly what you wanted, mainly because you haven't been sure what you wanted up until this point. But now you do.

"Communication," Tasha repeats for maybe the fifth time, "Communication is key. He doesn't know what you want, so you need to tell him. You need to stand up for yourself. And if he doesn't take you seriously, you move on. Simple."

"Simple," you echo, your third glass of wine already getting to you as you peer at her hazily with an upturned brow, "Communication."

"Communication," she repeats, "Simple."

Communication. Simple.

It's what echoes in your head over and over after your head hits the pillow that night, and continues to repeat the following morning as Tasha rouses you from sleep to get you ready for your "lesson". You don't feel as hungover as you'd expected - "That's because we didn't get totally fucked up like we were supposed to," Tasha says to you with a roll of her eyes - but your face is puffy from all the crying.

You're splashing your face with cold water when you hear Tasha call out, "Hey, I think you have a text."

Heart pounding in your chest you run back to the bedroom and grab your phone from the nightstand, the first time you've checked it since you got back from the bar. Your eyes go wide when you see not just one but two texts from Joel. One from last night, around midnight:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

And one from this morning, around seven:

You get home ok? Let me know x

"Don't text him back," Tasha advises over your shoulder, "Keep him sweating a bit, you're leaving soon anyway."

You nod slowly, still staring at the messages, especially the one from last night. When had he sent that? Had he still been at the bar? Still with her? Did he take her home? That familiar sadness and betrayal from last night bubbles in your throat again, tears pricking in your eyes.

No. You will not cry anymore.

You let your phone fall onto the bed and turn on the spot, marching back to the bathroom like a woman on a mission.

"Tasha, make me fucking hot."

The Plan: Go to your lesson with Joel. Talk to him about what you saw. Tell him how you feel. And look good doing it.

Communication. Simple. It certainly seems easier said than done; you've never been very good at communication. Your whole life has been spent suppressing your true feelings and your true self for crying out loud - the concept of being completely vulnerable and honest with someone is terrifying. But you know that it's necessary for your heart, and you also know that if you're going to be able to be vulnerable with anyone, it's Joel. He's already seen glimpses of the broken parts of you, not to mention seen you completely naked. How much harder can it get?

And nothing can be worse than how you felt last night.

Tasha essentially makes you her very own doll for the majority of the morning - doing your makeup, styling your hair, choosing your outfit - and you're surprised to find that you don't hate any of it, have no notes or critiques or changes to make. You stand in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror with your eyebrows raised, lips parted in admiration at a job well done.

"I look good," you say with a smile, and Tasha grins at your reflection, "I mean it, Tasha. Like, I still look like me, but..."

"All I did was accentuate what you already have, my love," she replies, reaching forward to fix a piece of hair that's not sitting quite right, "You're just a gorgeous human, inside and out."

You can't help but feel touched at her words, lips turning down into a pout as your hands come up to touch your heart, "Tasha-"

She waves you away, shaking her head, "Bitch, do not get sappy on me right now. Save those doe eyes for Mr. Miller."

Twenty minutes later you're winding through the suburban streets of your neighborhood. You're about half an hour early; Tasha had wanted you to be fashionably late but there's only so much of yourself you can alter in such a short amount of time, your punctuality being one of them. You figure you'll just drive around for a bit to build up your courage, plan out your words.

Joel, I saw you at the bar last night. I saw the woman. And I'm not mad, I'm just....

Joel, my feelings were really hurt last night...

Joel, I can't believe you would kiss another woman after everything we've been doing. Do I not mean anything to you at all? Do I-

Nothing really seems like the right thing to say. You figure once you're standing in front of him the words will just come naturally, flow easily in a way that makes sense and articulates your feelings properly. You can only hope.

You've still got about fifteen minutes before your lesson but you figure there's no point in continuing to circle the area - you're just delaying the inevitable. With a heavy sigh and a few quiet words of encouragement directed at your rearview mirror, you turn onto Joel's street, gripping the wheel tightly and trying to keep your breathing as even as possible. You can do this. You can do this.

You're a few houses down from his when you see it.

Panic turns to shock. Shock turns to confusion. Confusion turns to anger. Anger turns to sadness.

You're already pressing Tasha's number in your contacts before you can fully collect your thoughts.

"What is it? Did you go in?"

"There's a car in his driveway," you hiss through your teeth, feeling the tears spring to your eyes again, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, "She stayed the fucking night, Tasha. He fucking slept with her."

"You don't know that," Tasha replies quickly, calmly, already trying to calm you down, "Maybe it's his, maybe he has another car."

"He doesn't have another car, Tasha," your voice is stoic despite the lump in your throat, "He has his truck and that's it. Joel Miller doesn't drive a purple fucking convertible."

"A purple convertible?" Tasha repeats, voice faltering now, processing the information, "Jesus Christ."

You stare at the driveway, at the car in question - you're still a few houses down so it's hard to see any specific details, but you're sure you can make out a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror inside. This is definitely not Joel's vehicle by any means. Your stomach is in knots, unsure what the fuck you're supposed to do now; you'd thought briefly of the possibility that he'd slept with her, and up until this moment you'd been prepared to hear him admit it to you. But you hadn't expected it to really be true, to almost come face to face with the woman herself.

"I don't understand," Tasha suddenly says on the other line, "He knows you're coming for your lesson, why the fuck would he still have her in the house?"

"I don't know," your voice is almost a whisper, thick with sadness and disbelief, "I- oh shit." You cut yourself off and sink deep into your front seat when you catch the front door of his house opening, eyes going wide as you watch two figures emerge out onto the front step.

"What's happening?" Tasha asks frantically - you can practically hear her pacing on the other end, "Talk to me!"

"They're coming out!" you hiss, "They're on the fucking front step."

"Oh, honey, you gotta leave. You're not gonna wanna see this, you need to just turn around and come back," her voice is full of disappointment, anger that mirrors your own, "I'm serious, this is just-"

"Shhh," you peer over the dashboard at them, squinting against the sun. You can make out Joel's broad back in the early morning light, can recognize one of his band t-shirts and his signature bedhead, pointing in all directions. You can see him, but it's difficult to make out the figure he's with, his body blocking her almost entirely from you. "I think she's leaving."

You watch with a mix of rage and horror as he suddenly leans down and wraps his arms around her, her own winding around his broad form as her hands interlock together behind his back. Your eyebrows raise in confusion, mouth dropping open.

"It's not the same woman," you whisper.

"What do you mean it's not the same woman?"

"Literally that," you breathe, shaking your head and feeling a few tears begin to make their way down your cheeks, "It's not the one from last night, it's someone else."

"How do you know?"

"Because the woman last night was black and this girl isn't, I can see her arms," you snap, a sob threatening to burst its way past your lips, "And this one's shorter, he has to bend down to hug her."

"To hug her?!" Tasha echoes, "What the fuck?"

You watch as they separate from one another, watch with rage burning in your chest as she walks down the steps toward her car. You can see her better now, get a good look at her in the few seconds it takes her to reach the driver's side door. She's wearing a pink dress, frilled at the bottom with a pair of white sandals - she looks young. You're already redacting your prior statement about her not being black - now that she's properly in view, you can see the brown softness of her skin, her afro textured hair plaited neatly into two rows. But it's not the same woman.

"So, what, he had two girls in one night? Is that what you're telling me?" Tasha is saying in your ear while you continue to stare at the woman, watch her open the car door and climb inside with one last wave to Joel, "Hello?"

"I - I don't know. I'm-" you watch Joel wave to her and then head back inside the house, presumably to wait for you to arrive. Your stomach is tight and painful, bile in your throat all over again. "You were right," you whisper, tears cascading down onto your bare legs, "I didn't need to see this."

So much for not crying anymore.

You're back on the couch again, wrapped up like a burrito staring at the wall while Tasha paces back and forth around the living room in front of you, talking a mile a minute.

"It was a whole different story when it was just the one girl," she's ranting, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed in anger, "But two? Two girls. In one fucking night. And one of them is half his age," she scoffs, almost a growl, "So what, he just does this in his spare time? Fucks around with girls' hearts and bodies and then acts like some tough, macho contractor with a busy schedule? Please."

You don't need to remind her that you're also half his age - you know she'd come up with a reason why you're different, why you're the exception. And you do appreciate that, but the more she talks the more you're starting to realize that maybe that's never been the case. Maybe you weren't some beautiful coincidence that wandered into Joel's life - maybe he's been doing this for a long time.

Your gaze follows her as she walks around, pacing the same circle over and over again around the coffee table; it's typical Tasha - you've seen her do this on numerous occasions before, but never on your behalf. Your phone suddenly vibrates on the table and your heads both snap toward it, plunging the room into silence. You already know it's him - who else would be texting you this early? You reach over and unlock it, eyes scanning the message:

Where are you?

"He's wondering why I haven't shown up," you say quietly, voice still hoarse from all the crying.

"What a fucking prick. Do not reply," she resumes her pacing, "Two girls the night before he's supposed to have a date with you. Who does that? Who actually does that? Men, that's who. Men do that. I'm swearing off them forever after this. Seriously, I mean it. What the fuck."

You appreciate her concern, appreciate that she's no longer arguing on Joel's behalf, but her words cut you deep regardless. The whole situation still feels surreal. How is it that just over twenty four hours ago he was kissing you softly, sweetly, peering at you with those beautiful brown eyes and telling you he had something special planned for your lesson? What had he wanted to try, a fucking threesome?

"I don't know him at all," you whisper softly, sadly, "I never did. He's a stranger. A complete stranger who I was stupid enough to trust."

Your words seem to touch something in Tasha. She stops her pacing, slowly turns toward you with that empathetic look again and then carefully steps toward the couch, sitting down on the end.

"He just... he was there," you continue, lip trembling, "My parents were being so controlling and I was literally thinking about just... just leaving, finding some way to get back to campus without them knowing and then I heard that fucking guitar and-" you hiccup through a sob, clutching your hand to your chest, "I should've known then. I should've just kept walking. He asked me to come in, Tasha. He wanted to fuck me, then and there. And when I said no I guess I... I became some sort of challenge. Just a stupid, naïve little Catholic girl he could fuck and dump. And I fell for it, hook line and sinker."

She places a hand on your calf, just like she had last night, stroking gently up and down, "You're not stupid," she murmurs, "You're just a girl. A girl experiencing something really special for the first time. And I'm sorry he took that experience from you."

You manage to smile at her, soft and sincere. Despite everything, it feels good to have a friend, to not be alone when you're feeling like this. To be validated and comforted. You have no idea how you'd be processing all of this without Tasha by your side, if you'd have even been able to leave your bed this morning.

"This is so not what I wanted this weekend to be," she suddenly sighs, putting her head in her hands, "I wanted you to have fun, be free. And here you are feeling like shit about yourself. It's not fair."

She's right. It's not fair.

You take a deep breath, then carefully pry yourself out from underneath your blanket, rolling off the couch and coming to stand in front of Tasha with a determined expression on your face.

"You didn't dress me to the nines just for me to cry and feel sorry for myself on the couch," you say confidently, doing your best to wipe away your tears without completely smearing away Tasha's hard work, "I don't wanna think about Joel anymore. I don't wanna cry about Joel anymore. You know what I wanna do?"

She looks up at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face, "Go have fun and be free?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

You never thought you'd be the kind of person to go day drinking, but here you are. Tasha had fixed your makeup and then gotten all dolled up herself, ready for a whole day of doing exactly what you'd both set out to do this weekend: have fun.

Your first stop is a little bistro within walking distance of the Airbnb; you already know that neither of you will be fit to drive by the time this is all over, so you stick to places that are relatively close to the house. As you sip your cocktails and dig into a plate of sandwiches, Tasha informs you that she'd purposely booked this house in particular because of its proximity to the local club scene - you're not surprised in the slightest.

Your phone vibrates a few times while you're eating but you don't check it, forcing yourself to avoid reading anything else Joel has to say to you. It's only when it actually rings, two cocktails deep and plate empty, that you briefly consider picking it up.

"Nope," Tasha says, grabbing the phone from you and canceling the call before you can answer, "No more Joel today, we agreed."

"No more Joel," you repeat, nodding. You let her slip your phone into her own purse after putting it on silent - you know she'll keep it safe, and you know it's for the best.

You spend the majority of the afternoon popping in and out of local bars and boutiques, shopping and chatting to your hearts content as your body adjusts to the constant thrum of alcohol running through your system, making your head a bit foggy in the best way. It's like nothing really matters except this moment, right now, the beat of live music here and there as the sun gets lower in the sky, the conversations drifting past, the smell of food wafting out of restaurants. Tasha is a constant presence at your side, arm linked with yours as she dishes on all the drama of her life you've missed thus far this summer.

You don't think about Joel.

It's obvious throughout your little adventures throughout the day that people - particularly men - gravitate to Tasha very easily. You're not sure if it's simply because of how gorgeous she is - all curves and plump lips and dark curls down to her waist, purple cowboy hat askew above her perfectly applied makeup - or because she's simply a light. She's so bubbly and completely herself, smiling and laughing and dancing, never apologetic or ashamed. It feels good to have a girl like that in your corner, helping you out of your shell, only wanting what's best for you.

You realize as the day passes that you're beginning to mimic her behavior a bit. Whether it's due to the alcohol or your admiration for her, you're not sure, but either way you can feel yourself loosening up, allowing yourself to be more uninhibited, less insecure, not caring if people are looking at you. And people are definitely starting to look at you.

"Dude over there is staring at you," Tasha says quietly to you as you sip margaritas on the back deck of a country bar. You're now wearing her cowboy hat, stolen it after what can only be described as a predictable turn of events where she'd rode the mechanical bull and lost it in one particularly hard buck. You'd picked it up off the floor and placed it on your head, laughing hysterically as the bull threatened to launch Tasha across the room.

"Where?" your eyes go wide as you take a long sip, waiting for her to point him out. She nods at something behind you and you do your best to slowly turn around, not wanting to be too obvious. In your drunken state, however, it's not very smooth. You almost topple off the chair as you spin in place to find who she's talking about.

Through your laughter you spot him. Typical young Texan - floppy blonde hair and a strong jawline, sun-kissed skin and a white smile that practically glimmers against the sunset. He nods to you when he sees you looking, tilts his head to the side a bit and winks.

You turn back to Tasha, shaking your head, "He is not looking at me," you feel your skin heating up, not just from the alcohol, "There's no way."

"He is looking at you," Tasha reiterates, placing her empty glass down on the table, "You're fucking hot."

Your mind can't help but flash back to freshman year, that godforsaken party when another boy with a similar appearance had looked your way. The hope you'd felt, the desire, the confidence... all of it fading when he approached and chose your friend to talk to instead, not even bothering to glance your way despite standing right there beside her. You can't help but worry that it's happening all over again.

But then you hear a deep voice behind you, southern and sexy: "Pardon me, but I just had to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl I ever saw."

Your eyes widen and you spin back around, still half expecting him to be talking to Tasha, not you, but his green eyes connect with yours instead. His gaze holds you there, your lips parting with no words coming out as you stare up at him in shock.

"She was just telling me that you're not so bad yourself," Tasha offers with a smile, nudging you under the table with her heel, "Right?"

"R-right," you manage to stammer out, still staring open-mouthed at this gorgeous specimen that has somehow decided that you're the girl he wants to talk to right now. The prettiest girl he ever saw.

He smiles at that, toothy and beautiful, "I'm Noah," he puts his hand out for you to take and you do, grasping it tightly and trying to hold on to the reality of this moment, the way his soft skin feels against yours, the way your brain is buzzing with amazement - and tequila.

Tasha's foot hits your ankle again and you quickly splutter out your name, releasing his hand and awkwardly placing yours back in your lap. You feel the bare skin of your thigh and you're suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you are right now - this dress certainly doesn't leave much up to the imagination. Your thighs and breasts are practically spilling out of it, pink material clinging to your body. But he isn't looking at any of that - he's looking at your face.

"It's real nice to meet you," he says with another smile, "Can I buy you a drink?" he suddenly looks at Tasha, like he's only just remembered she's sitting there, "And one for your friend too, of course."

"She'd love one," Tasha answers for you, nudging her arm against yours gently, "We'll both have another margarita."

Noah nods once, sets his gaze to your face again with a smile, then disappears inside the bar to go order the drinks.

The second he's gone it's like you're released from some sort of spell he'd put you under. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your chest, breaths coming shorter as you turn to Tasha with utter horror.

"What happened to swearing off all men?" you hiss, brow furrowing.

"Please, Noah isn't a man, he's a boy," she scoffs with a smile, twirling her hair between her fingers, "And I know alllll about boys."

You don't know how it happens, somehow lost the plot about halfway into your second margarita, but Noah is going to the club with you.

You are drunk. You know this for a fact. You hadn't been expecting to already feel this fucked up upon setting foot in the club but here you are, Tasha on one arm and Noah on the other. Tasha's had just as much to drink as you but doesn't seem anywhere near as intoxicated as you feel, continuing to be her excitable self when the bass drops and the neon lights start to dance across her skin. She's stolen back her cowboy hat but you've somehow gained your own - you think it might be Noah's.

"LET'S DANCE!" she screeches, pulling you away from Noah and dragging you onto the dance floor. You watch with slightly blurred vision as he goes in the opposite direction, toward the bar, probably to order more drinks.

The music is loud, the dance floor full of people, bodies swaying back and forth, people jumping up and down, grinding on one another, screaming conversations over the heavy bass. The lights are bright and it feels like all of your senses have been heightened, like you can feel, taste, see, and hear everything in your immediate vicinity to the utmost degree. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you can feel it in other places too - your feet, your kneecaps, your skin.

"I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!" Tasha screams to you, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning on the spot, smile wide and joyous as she starts to dance, "DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!"

Your senses are overloading but you try your best to match her energy, copy her movements, focus on just this instead of everything else that's going on around you. This is what you've been missing all these years; this is what you've been waiting to experience. Enjoy it. You let your inhibitions flow and just exist in this moment, having fun with your best friend, far away from anyone who would ever judge you for being here. Far away from your parents and your neighbors and Bethany and -

No. You do not think about Joel.

You and Tasha dance to about three songs before she's tugging you away from the dance floor and over to the bar, back to where Noah is leaning with a beer bottle perched against his lips. He smiles when he sees you approaching, gestures to the little mini drinks beside him, small enough to only have about a thumb of liquid in each.

"Shots!" Tasha squeals, clapping her hands together, "Shots, shots, shots!" She picks one up and hands it to you, then grabs her own, "Come on, Noah, do one with us!"

Noah still can't seem to keep his eyes off you, though you've begun to notice that he's no longer just looking at your face anymore. This time his eyes fall to your breasts as he puts down his beer bottle and replaces it with one of the shot glasses, gaze falling down to your legs before finding your eyes again.

You catch a glint of something darker there, something seductive, and as you bring the glass to your lips you're suddenly aware that beneath the alcohol you feel a bit... uneasy.

You're fucked up. You're really fucked up.

Tasha doesn't leave your side, something you're extremely grateful for. You're starting to have difficulty seeing straight, even walking is becoming confusing, let alone dancing. You grip Tasha's shoulders tightly on the dance floor as you both sway to the music, unsure exactly how long it's been since you arrived at the club. She's looking at you with hazy eyes, much drunker now than she was earlier, and your very intoxicated brain is wondering if you're actually going to leave at some point or whether you're just stuck here for the rest of eternity.

You can feel Noah against your back. He's grinding against you to the song, hands on your hips as his groin presses firmly into your ass. It's weird, being in a Tasha-Noah sandwich that you didn't really sign up for. You're too drunk to really know what you want, actually. You feel fine having Tasha this close, feel safe in her embrace, but Noah's presence is starting to make you feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm really drunk," you slur, but it's too quiet for either Tasha or Noah to hear you. Tasha just nods as if she understands, head tilting back and mouth popping open as another song begins. She mouths something, probably I love this song, something she's said about ten times tonight.

Noah pulls you in closer, almost like he's tugging you away from Tasha, but your voice is too faint under the music for your protests to be heard. His arms come up to wrap around your middle, and you feel the unmistakable shape of his cock dip down between your cheeks through your dress. At first you think maybe it's unintentional, but then he does it again, and again, like he's using your body to get himself off. On the fucking dance floor.

"Let go of me," you breathe, but it's lost to the music. You watch as Tasha gets further away, your arms dropping completely from her shoulders as she turns and starts to spin on the spot, still staring up at the ceiling, unaware of what's happening. "Stop," you mumble, feeling his clothed cock rub against you again, a sensation you're now familiar with but certainly not in this context. And certainly not with someone who isn't Joel Miller.

The thought of Joel is what does it.

"STOP," you practically scream, yanking yourself away from him and taking a few heavy steps back, shaking your head frantically, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME."

A few people are turning to look and Noah seems more than embarrassed, hands going up quickly. He's drunk too, you can see it in his face, in his eyes, but you already know he's certainly not the harmless young Texan you thought he was. That feeling of unease earlier sure as hell hadn't been the alcohol talking.

You feel a hand at your waist and you flinch but only for a second, gaze coming to rest on Tasha who's now standing beside you with a look of pure horror on her face.

"What'd he do?" she asks, voice panicked and quick, almost like she's not even drunk anymore, "Are you okay?"

You nod but you can feel tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. Your ears are ringing like they had last night, but it's different this time, almost like you're underwater as Tasha grips your arm and leads you toward the front of the club, away from the loud music and drunk people. Away from Noah.

"Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry," her voice is shaking with emotion when you get out onto the street, hand holding tight to your arm, "I didn't even notice what he was doing. Jesus fucking Christ," she pulls out her phone and dials the number for a cab - through your bleary eyes you see a few teardrops dribble down the bridge of her nose, "We're going home, I'm so sorry, honey."

"S'okay," you manage to garble out through your tears, flowing heavily now in your drunken state, "It happened really fast."

"Doesn't make it okay," she replies, bringing the phone to her ear.

No, it doesn't.

"I want Joel," you whisper through your tears once you're settled in the back seat of the cab, Tasha beside you with her hand resting soothingly on your arm.

"What, honey?" Tasha asks softly, "Say it again, can't hear you."

"I want Joel," you repeat, words slurred as your hands come up to cover your face, "I don't wanna go home. I want Joel."

"We can't go to Joel's," Tasha murmurs, stroking your arm, "It's almost three in the morning, he's asleep."

"I want Joel," you repeat, "I wanna see him."

"I need an address," the cab driver says over his shoulder; he's already started running the meter, "Don't got all night, girls."

Before Tasha can say anything you're spluttering out Joel's address through a sob. Tasha starts to protest but you shake your head furiously, tears scattering everywhere, "I'll just walk," you mumble adamantly, "If you change it I'll just get out and walk."

"But-"

"You owe me," you practically spit, "You owe me after what just happened." You don't mean it, but your brain is nowhere near sober enough to fully realize that. And neither is hers.

She doesn't say anything else.

It's very strange being back in your neighborhood not sober. Your mind is still ridiculously fuzzy from the alcohol but part of you is able to acknowledge how crazy it is that you're back here so late at night in such a drunken state, driving through the dark streets while your parents are none the wiser. The cab passes by your house and you find yourself ducking down into the seat, afraid they might see you despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning.

"Can you just keep the meter running?" Tasha asks the cab driver quietly as you approach Joel's house, "I'm not staying, I just wanna make sure she gets in okay and that someone's here to help her."

"You're not coming in," you mutter, voice still slurred and heavy. You don't look at her as you say it.

"I'll just wait in the car for a few minutes then," she says quietly, just as the cab comes to a stop in Joel's driveway.

His truck is here, just like this morning. Except this time there's no purple convertible blocking him in, no other woman standing on the front step hugging him, waving to him.

Anger rises in your chest at the memory.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Tasha says softly - what happened earlier has clearly sobered her up, almost no trace of drunkenness in her speech, "He's asleep, there aren't any lights on."

"Then I'll wake him up," you mumble, opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.

"I'll wait here for a few-," she calls out to you but you slam the door before she can finish her sentence.

You're not sure why you're suddenly being so mean to her. That is, until you stagger up Joel's front steps and feel even more rage bubbling inside you at the thought of standing where he'd stood this morning, where she'd stood this morning. Where the woman from the bar had probably stood too. Oh. You're an angry drunk.

Without any hesitation you push down on the doorbell. You don't bother to wait in silence; you just keep pushing it and pushing it over and over, hearing the dull sound of the bell dinging inside the house. You're vaguely aware of a light being turned on behind the frosted glass as you lean your hand against the door, suddenly feeling dizzy now that you're standing again.

The door opens and you practically fall through it, squinting against the sudden bright light and bringing your hands up to your face as you stagger inside. You feel someone catch you, big hands coming to rest atop both of your arms, and then your name being said in a deep voice, husky with sleep.

Joel.

"Are you okay?" he asks somewhere above you; your ears are ringing again and his voice is loud and muffled, that underwater feeling coming back. You try to mumble something but it comes out an incoherent garble.

You feel him pull you inside, hear the door shut behind you as he kicks it closed with his foot. He guides you inside the living room and your eyes shut tightly against the brightness of the overhead light, shining down on top of you like a spotlight.

"Too bright," you manage to mumble out, bringing your hands up to cover your face. You find yourself being seated on the couch before the light is switched off, plunging you both into total darkness.

"Baby, what happened?" you hear him ask, voice still swimming thickly through your muted ears, "I've been so fuckin' worried about you, where've you been? Where'd you go?" you feel his hands take yours, gripping them tightly. They're so rough and callused, nothing at all like Noah's, and it makes you smile.

"Feels nice," you mutter, already forgetting what he asked you.

"What'd you take?" he asks, and you suddenly realize that there's a very frantic edge to his voice, thick with worry and... fear? "Huh? Tell me what you took so I can help."

"D-didn't take anything," you hiccup, shaking your head slowly.

"Christ, babygirl," he mutters, squeezing your hands again, "Where were you? I called you so many times, I texted you, I-"

"Tasha's got my phone," you mumble.

"Where's Tasha? She alright?"

"In the cab."

"Jesus," he releases your hand and stands up, turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room so you're not in total darkness anymore. You watch with hooded eyes as he opens the front door again, walks out onto the step and starts gesturing something into the darkness. He looks ridiculous, waving his arms like that - it makes you giggle.

He turns around and walks back over to you with long strides. You can see his face more clearly now, expression lined with worry. He looks tired. He probably is.

"Just wanted you," you mutter, staring at him.

Before he can say anything Tasha is suddenly walking in through the door, expression stoic as she passes the threshold. She avoids Joel's gaze completely, looking only at you.

"What the fuck happened?" Joel asks her, any sort of introductory pleasantries gone out the window, "Where's she been? What'd she take?"

"Nice to meet you too," Tasha grumbles, hitching her purse over her shoulder and walking over to where you sit on the couch, "She's fine, we went clubbing and she got drunk. I'll take her back."

"No you fuckin' won't," he says indignantly, moving to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed, "How could you let this happen to her? She's never done shit like this before, you know that right? She's never been drunk in her fuckin' life and you bring her back like this? You ever heard of takin' it fuckin' slow?"

"Oh please, like I'm gonna take advice from you," she snaps back, walking around him and reaching down to take your hand, "Come on, honey, we need to go. Now."

"She's not goin' with you, she's stayin' here," his voice is loud, louder than you've ever heard it. In fact, you don't think you've ever seen him mad before. It's strange, seeing the way his eyes narrow, his mouth downturned into an angry frown, fists tight against his chest.

"I only brought her here because she said she'd jump out and walk if I didn't," Tasha argues, voice firm, "She's safe with me."

"Safe, huh?" he scoffs, "So why the fuck do you have her phone? Do you know how many times I've tried to call her in the past fuckin' twelve hours? I was this close to callin' the fuckin' police."

"If anyone here needs the fucking police called on them it's you," Tasha's voice is louder now, every word echoing in your brain, "Fucking creep."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Your drunken brain can't process much of what's going on at all, both Tasha and Joel's voices blending into one constant loud noise. You bring your hands up to your head and cover your ears, though it can only do so much to block out their voices. What they're saying still manages to come through, albeit muffled and distant.

"You heard what I said. Fucking. Creep." Tasha repeats, "She knows what you've been doing, you asshole."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"What, don't have the balls to admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"Stop," you say loudly, bringing your hands down from your ears, "Stop yelling, you're hurting my head."

Joel crouches down, picks up your hands and takes them in his again, peering into your eyes. You can't see him properly anymore and you hate it, can only make out bits and pieces as your eyesight just continues to get worse the longer you sit here. You feel sleepy, almost like you're on the edge of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, thumbs stroking yours gently, "I'm sorry, babygirl. I'll stop yellin'."

You close your eyes, nodding and breathing deeply in and out, loving the feeling of having him touching you again. It's almost like last night didn't happen, like this morning didn't happen.

Last night. This morning.

You suddenly yank your hands away from him, eyes going wide as you remember exactly why you're even here in the first place, why you wanted to get fucked up to begin with. His face comes back into view again, expression confused.

"I know what you've been doing," you hiss, echoing Tasha's words and scooting away from him. You reach your hand up for her to take and she grips it tightly, helping you get up.

"Babygirl," he says softly, brown eyes tender and soft as he eases himself up from the floor, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"We saw you," Tasha says then, linking her arm with yours, "At the bar last night." She means business now, you can hear it in her voice, "We saw you kiss someone else."

His expression changes instantly. Worry, anger, concern... all of it gone in a single second.

"That's what I thought," Tasha says firmly, then carefully eases you out of the living room, walks with you as far as the porch before you hear Joel speak.

His voice is quiet, shaky, "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, exactly?" Tasha turns then, rounding on him again while you cling to her arm, "You're not playing her? You didn't waste weeks of her life making her feel special only for it to turn out you're just like the rest of them?"

He doesn't say anything and you can't bring yourself to look at him, heart in your throat and tears in your eyes once again as you stare at the hardwood floor.

"I didn't... that's not what..." he finally breathes, "It's not what you think. That's all I can say."

"That's all you can say?"

"Well, I can hardly fuckin' explain myself when she won't remember it, can I?" his voice is raw, hitching on the last few words, "Nothin'... nothin' happened other than some kissin'. It didn't go any further, I swear."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"I'm not askin' you to believe me," he breathes, "But that's the truth. That's the fuckin' truth, swear on my life."

"And what about the girl she saw leaving this morning?"

He's quiet again for a moment. You're still afraid to look at him, can barely even comprehend that this conversation is even really happening right now.

"That was - Jesus, I never wanted you to find out like this," he mutters, and Tasha laughs without humor.

"Yeah, you thought it'd just stay your little secret, huh?" It's hard to believe she's had just as much to drink as you have tonight - you wouldn't know it by the way she handles herself now, the way she speaks to Joel like she already knows him. She's done this before. She's no stranger to confronting men who did her wrong, or in this case, her friend.

"That was my daughter," he says softly.

Tasha freezes.

The words do their best to seep into your skin, to make their way into the sober depths of your brain that lie dormant, somewhere hidden. You still feel so fuzzy, bleary eyed and heavy and confused, but the words register somehow.

You slowly unhook your arm from Tasha's to finally look up from the floor, moving your gaze to Joel's still form. He's standing there by the couch, arms still crossed across his chest but not angry anymore, a look of pure sadness and shame on his face. He looks small.

"Y-you have a daughter?" you whisper.

"Yes," he replies softly, eyes slowly lifting to meeting yours, "And the woman at the bar, that was her mother. My ex wife." You see tears shining in his eyes, watch as his lip trembles as he softly whispers, "And I swear - I swear it never went further than some kisses. And it won't go any further than that ever again."

You feel Tasha reach down and squeeze your hand. What she's trying to communicate to you, you're not sure. You just stand there staring at him, unable to process this information in your current state, head swimming and ears still ringing.

"I'll tell you everything," he continues quietly, taking a slow step toward you, "When you're feelin' better, I swear. Anythin' you wanna know, I'll tell you." He takes another few steps until he's standing directly in front of you and Tasha, leaning down so he can peer directly into your eyes, "I'm so sorry it happened this way," he whispers, "I never thought - Jesus, I'm just so fuckin' sorry."

You swallow tightly around the lump in your throat, completely unsure of how you feel, of what you're supposed to say or do. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is computing properly.

"You need to take her home," he murmurs, pulling back and turning his attention to Tasha, "Look, I'm sorry for-"

"No, I'm sorry," she suddenly breathes, "I was- wow, that's... I mean, I wasn't expecting that. I'm sorry. I just, I thought-"

"It's okay," he replies, voice still a bit stiff, "Just get her back safe, okay? She's-" he cuts himself off to look at you again, eyes peering down at you sadly. "She's special."

Tasha nods, "I know she is."

The last thing you remember, the last thing that's at least semi-clear in your mind, is the soft look of affection on his face as he stands on his doorstep and watches you go.

You're not sure exactly what time it is when you wake up on Sunday. The only thing you're sure of is that your head is pounding and the sun streaming through the window is only making it worse. You roll over in bed and press your face into the pillow with a low moan.

You're never drinking that much ever again.

There's movement beside you and you open your eyes briefly to see Tasha laying in a similar position, still in her dress from yesterday, face smooshed into her own pillow. You can't remember how you got back, memories extremely hazy and shrouded completely in too much alcohol. The last thing you can remember is being at Joel's house, of the brief conversation he had with Tasha, the words he'd said to you...

My ex wife.

It never went further than some kisses.

That was my daughter.

Now that your brain isn't under the influence, you can finally think straight, can finally process everything he said to you last night. Or at least what you can remember. You roll over again with another moan, sensing nausea in the pit of your stomach.

"The hangover is the worst part," Tasha mumbles, and you turn your head to see her looking at you through messy mascara, smudged and smeared all over her eyes, "But you'll be okay."

You stare at her for a few seconds, everything else from the night before slowly coming back to you in bits and pieces. The club, Noah, the way you'd snapped at her...

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, "Tasha, I was so fucking mean to you."

The part of her lips that you can see curve upward into a smile and she shakes her head slowly, "It's all water under the bridge, babe," she murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, "You had every right."

"No, I didn't. That stuff with Noah, that wasn't your fault."

"I should've known better than to invite him along," she sighs deeply, "I just wanted you to have fun, you know? I wanted you to forget about..." she trails off, biting her lip.

"I know," you breathe, "And I did, for a while. You couldn't have known about Noah, he certainly had me fooled."

She nods, closing her eyes and nuzzling the pillow a bit. You both lay there in silence, the elephant in the room growing bigger and bigger the longer you go without talking about it.

"So, Joel's got a daughter," you finally whisper, "And an ex wife."

She opens her eyes again, raising an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you remember that. You were pretty fucked up."

You wince, "Did I completely embarrass myself?"

"No, not at all," her hand comes up to touch your shoulder gently, thumbing the skin there, "You stood your ground, you did good. And now... now we know the truth."

"The truth," you echo.

More silence. It's like neither of you really knows what to say to the other. You're sure Tasha has already formulated her own opinion, has probably known since last night exactly how she feels about the whole thing. And that scares you a bit - because what if she doesn't feel the same way you do?

And how exactly do you feel about it anyway?

"I think he texted you again a little while ago," she finally says softly, pointing toward your phone on the night stand, "I heard it when I got up to use the bathroom. And there's a lot of texts there from yesterday. He, uh-" she bites her lip, "He was really worried about you, honey."

You reach over and pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before unlocking it and looking at the damage: 9 texts. 18 missed calls.

Shit. You suppose it makes sense. The last time you'd talked to him was on Friday morning in his kitchen, when you'd told him you were planning on going out with Tasha and having a girl's weekend, finally having your college experiences. He hadn't known anything that happened between then and last night, hadn't known you'd seen him at the bar, that you'd gone to his house on Saturday morning and left again, not giving him any explanation as to why you hadn't shown up for your lesson. To him, it had just been complete radio silence.

With a shaky finger you press his name, heart pounding as the unanswered text messages flood your screen. First, the three you've already seen:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

You get home ok? Let me know x

Where are you?

And everything else:

???

Hey, I'm worried about you. Give me a call or a text ok?

Please call me.

I'm outta my mind over here baby. Please let me know you're alright.

I'm scared for you. Last I heard you were going out with your friend and then nothing since. Please call.

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

I'm so worried about you. I can't sleep. Please call me.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

Please.

The most recent text was sent this morning, around ten:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

"Did you read these?" you ask Tasha softly, eyes unmoving from the last text, scanning the words over and over.

"No," she replies, "Just saw the notifications."

You scroll back up and read them again, and again, like you'll somehow be able to rewind time if you just keep reading them. You can't believe there's this many, can't believe that the man who'd been so distant the past week is the same man who sent you all of these.

The same man with a whole other life he never told you about.

"What do I do?" you whisper.

Tasha sighs, then carefully pulls herself up to lean against the headboard, crossing her legs and looking over at you, "What do you wanna do?"

You lock your phone again and sit up beside her, exhaling deeply, "I don't know."

You both sit there in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. You can't explain it but you feel nowhere near as betrayed or angry as you'd felt yesterday. Rage is no longer present - and neither is sadness. The only way you can describe how you feel is... relieved.

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," you state.

"He does."

"He has a daughter and an ex wife," somehow saying it again makes it feel more real, but the words still don't trigger any strong emotions. You sigh and look at Tasha, urging her to say something else.

"So, other than that, what's changed?" she asks.

You bite your lip and turn away from her again, shrugging your shoulders slowly, "I mean, that's... that's a lot."

"It is," she agrees softly, "It is a lot."

You swallow, fingers playing with the edge of your dress, reminding you that you're still wearing the same outfit from yesterday. God, you need a shower. You need to wash this entire experience off of you.

"You remember where we landed Friday night?" Tasha asks suddenly, "We talked about the possibility of him kissing someone else and we agreed that communication was the way to go, right?"

"That was before we knew he had a daughter and an ex wife, Tasha."

"Yeah, well... now we do know. And we know he's willing to talk to you about it," she twists her mouth in thought, "So do you wanna talk to him about it?"

"...I don't know."

She suddenly eases herself off the bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning loudly. You watch as she assesses her pillow, grimaces at the dark makeup stains on the white cotton.

"I'm scared," you admit softly, avoiding her gaze.

"What are you scared of?"

You don't know how to answer that, biting your lip and sniffling a bit. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them and leaning your face into your warm skin.

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" she asks quietly, absolutely no judgement in her voice, "That's it, isn't it? You're really starting to fall and that's why you're scared."

You can't speak, unable to say anything because you know you'll burst into tears if you do. Instead, you nod your head slowly, up and down against your knees.

"Then you gotta talk to him, honey," she kneels down on the bed, places her hand on your shoulder soothingly, "You gotta hear what he has to say."

You groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you stretch out your legs again, turning on the bed and scooching downward to smoosh your face back into the pillow.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Tasha murmurs softly, "I feel disgusting."

"Welcome to the club," you mumble into the pillow.

You're vaguely aware of Tasha moving around you, grabbing things from the nightstand and puttering around the room as she gets ready for her shower. You sense her standing close to you for a bit longer than necessary, like she's just staring at you without really knowing what to say. With a roll of your eyes you turn to face her, and you catch the briefest moment that she places your phone back down on the nightstand.

Your brow furrows, "What are you doing with my phone?"

"Nothing," she says quickly, turning around and leaving the room without another word.

You fall back to sleep without meaning to, and when you wake again, it's only because you hear someone talking in the other room, someone with a deep voice. Tasha must be watching a movie. You curl in on yourself a bit, rubbing your eyes and wincing when you feel the makeup smudge across your face. You really should get up and shower.

You suddenly hear footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. But there's something different about them, something heavy in the way they sound against the floorboards.

The door opens and there's just silence for a few seconds, no movement. Then the footsteps return, closer now, slow and unsure.

You know it's him before his weight sinks into the bed.

Oh, Tasha. Of course you did.

You close your eyes as you feel his arms snake around you from behind. You allow him to pull you in close, feel his nose against the back of your neck, his scruff against your shoulder. He smells like his cologne, feels warm and solid against your back, the denim of his jeans brushing against your bare legs.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

You immediately turn within his embrace, coming face to face with the man who you've spent the past twenty four hours hating, being angry at, feeling betrayed by - he's looking at you with a tenderness you can't describe, lips downturned into a soft frown that says everything. He's upset. He's ashamed. He's sorry.

"Why did you kiss her?" you whisper.

He takes a breath, "We have this... arrangement," he murmurs, "We've had it for years. Whenever she's in town - which isn't very often, maybe once every three years or so - we sleep together. It's been goin' on for over twenty years now, it's just.. it's just what we do."

You nod slowly, eyes falling to his mouth and then back to his eyes, "But you didn't this time."

"We didn't," he breathes, "I swear to you, we didn't. We went back to my place, we... we were kissin'," he winces but doesn't close his eyes, keeping his gaze on you, "I.. I went to grab a condom out of my bedside table before things got heavy and I-" he cuts himself off, taking another breath.

"What?"

You watch as he reaches down into his pocket, fishes something out. He brings his hand up and extends his fingers, shows you what's sitting in the palm of his hand.

Your crucifix.

"I saw this," he breathes, "And all of a sudden, I just... I just knew I couldn't."

You stare at the gold cross, watch it glint in the sunlight still cascading through the windows. His breath hitches and your gaze goes back to his face, the lines and wrinkles and grey whiskers, his soft brown eyes and curved nose.

"I understand if you can't forgive me," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I don't expect you to, but I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry that I did."

He closes his fist around the crucifix again and slowly brings it downward to your own hand, urging you to open it. He slips the chain past your fingers, goes to pull his hand away, but you stop him. You grip his hand tightly, the cross digging into both of your palms.

"We never established anything," you whisper softly, "We... we've never said that we're anything. It's just been sex."

He doesn't say anything, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he waits for you to speak again. He's so handsome, so unreal in a way that doesn't make sense to you, and probably never will.

"I wanna be yours," you breathe, meeting his gaze, "I don't want you to be with anyone else."

He leans forward to gently brush his nose to yours, eyes closing as he breathes deeply, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks.

"Okay," he whispers.

You know there's more for him to explain, so many more details you don't have yet that you do want to know. But in this moment, you don't care about any of it. You just want him.

It doesn't take long for you both to be completely undressed, clothes tossed over the sides of the bed as your naked bodies press warmly up against each other, soft and eager. He presses kisses to your neck, breathes you in, runs his fingers through your hair as he hovers above you with absolute need in his eyes, a look you're sure mirrors your own.

He knows you're still not ready without you having to say it. Knows this isn't the right time. There's no need for any words of reassurance or any questions. He knows what you need. You know what he needs.

His cock moves firmly down against your tummy beneath the sheets, his shaft settling perfectly against your pussy, already wet and aching for him like it had been the second he walked into the room. He puts both hands above your head, leans down to kiss you as he drags himself up and down within your folds, up and down, up and down.

It feels incredible, just having the thick length of him rubbing back and forth against your clit, the wide head catching at your entrance every now and then, eliciting a deep groan from Joel and soft whimpers from you. You grip his back tightly, broad and firm and yours, fingertips digging into his skin as he fucks himself against you.

"Feels so good," you whisper in his ear, voice trembling with every thrust, "Feels so good, Joel."

"I know it does, babygirl," he whispers, kissing your ear and grinding himself against you even deeper, moving his hands down to grip your hips as his cock continues to slip back and forth against your folds, "You're so sensitive, aren't you? That big cock feels so good against your little pussy, hm?"

You nod frantically, arms moving up a bit to wrap around his neck, your cheek brushing against his.

"You want a bit of my cock inside your hole, baby?" he whispers softly, secretly, pushing your hair away from your face, "Huh? You want the tip, honey? Just a little bit?"

You don't even have to think.

"Yes," you moan, "Yes, please, put it in, please."

"Okay, baby," he murmurs, pulling back a bit to look down at the mess you're making together, reaching his hand down to position his cock at your entrance, "Just the tip, babygirl, I won't go any further than that. Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," you breathe, and you absolutely mean it, looking up at him with what you're sure is a completely wrecked expression, "I want it, Joel. Please."

He places the head of his cock against your hole gently, very gently. Then he takes your hands from around his neck and holds them in his, presses them up against his chest as he looks deep into your eyes. You look back, gaze never leaving his as he slowly pushes himself inside you - just the tip.

You gasp.

"Shhh," he breathes, squeezing your hands and continuing to peer into your eyes, never breaking eye contact, "Shhh, you're okay," he murmurs, "You're okay, angel."

You lay completely still, lips parting and eyes going hazy as you focus all your energy on experiencing this moment, on feeling the way the head of Joel's cock feels inside of you. It's pulsing, warm and wide and big inside your pussy, throbbing against your walls.

It feels fucking amazing.

"Joel," you whimper, eyes still locked completely on his.

"You're mine," he breathes, jaw tense and eyes alight with something you can only describe as pure passion, "You hear me? You're the only one I want. Don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody."

You nod desperately, thighs shaking as the fat head of his cock pushes inside just a little more, making you squirm. He stills his hips, still holding your hands against his warm chest.

"Look at us," he murmurs, "Just look."

Your gaze finally unlocks from his, eyes trailing downward to where you're connected, where the thick length of his cock juts out from between your legs. You rise a bit on the bed, whimpering as you look down at exactly where he sits inside of you, wet and dark and filthy and fucking beautiful.

"You can take all of me," he whispers, "I know you can, babygirl. But not now, not here."

"I know," you breathe, swallowing and looking up at him again with tears filling your eyes.

He pulls himself out of you then, places his thick and throbbing shaft against your pussy again and begins to thrust, moving downward so he's pressed up tightly against you, your hands caught between each other's bodies, the crucifix still hanging between your fingers.

"I'm gonna take you away with me, okay?" he says, almost a whimper as he stares into your eyes again, intense and focused, "We're gonna go away and I'm gonna tell you everything you wanna know about me, alright? And I'm gonna fuck you, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You're nodding as he speaks, whimpers and whines flowing continuously from your mouth as you near closer and closer to your orgasm, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger.

"I'll fuck you in the bed, I'll fuck you in the shower, I'll fuck you on the fucking floor," he groans, eyes suddenly shutting and breaking the eye contact he'd managed to hold for so long, his face coming down to bury itself in your neck, "You're mine, angel, you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cry as your climax hits you, knocks the wind out of you as you start to shake beneath him, your hole fluttering against the length of him, "I'm yours, Joel, only yours."

You feel his come hit your stomach, painting your skin as he releases a deep groan into your ear and puts his entire body weight on top of you. You just close your eyes and feel him, exist in this moment for as long as you can, just listening to his breathing match your own as you both come down from your high.

He nuzzles his face against the heat of your neck, squeezes your hand in his between your bodies. The crucifix digs into your palm but you barely feel it.

"I want you to keep it," you whisper in his ear, and he doesn't have to ask what you're talking about, just presses a soft kiss to your neck and finally pulls back to peer down at you with total adoration.

"Okay," he murmurs with a soft smile, "I will."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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ninyard · 2 months ago

Text

okay this was supposed to be a reply to an ask but it got too long so i give u: my first thoughts on the bonus chapters pt 1 (TFC bonus chapter)

David's chapter

Coach Hernandez had warned him Neil was distressingly single minded about Exy, but surely the fucking Yakuza of all things should have made a dent

Obsessed. I wonder what else Hernandez told him

His hip was years healed

Was this mentioned before? Did he break it? When did he break it? Was he playing pro and it's why he retired/became a coach? Just headcanoning this rn

[Kevin] set the bottle down, looked around for something to clean his mess with, and ended up patting at the puddle with his hand.

Kevin Day I Would Die For You. why is that the cutest thing he's done in the whole series

"What could you be holding on to still that would drive you this far away from her?" "No. Don't ask me that."

gnawing at the cages of my enclosure. this is too much for me. SO many thoughts

[About Abby + the kids crutches] Maybe she was right, or maybe she didn't have enough nightmares to understand. David rubbed a thumb along his knuckles, looking for blood he'd washed off years ago.

??????????????????????

"Did you think you were my only lover? He isn't yours, David. You have nothing you need to worry about."

Why did this literally break my fucking heart

Nine years later she was dead

Hello? Am I insane or did anyone think Kevin was WAY younger when she died? This changes SO much for me

"You're not just a Fox," David said, before he could think to stop himself. "You're Kayleigh's son." Kevin's expression fractured as he recoiled. [...] The silence that fell between them was wretched and deep.

i know kevin's head was screaming I'M YOURS TOO and just,,, once again him being older when she died changes SO MUCH. that's his MOM. He's KAYLEIGHS SON. how much did that fucking sentence hurt him? he knows!!!!! and she's not around anymore!!!! throwing up.

Kevin looked so much like her, except Kayleigh had never looked so defeated and afraid. She'd been fierce and vibrant and fearless.

This bonus chapter is NOT good for me because now i need so much more kayleigh content it's unhealthy. like i NEED more of her

When he started thinking about rings he put himself on a plane home.

I know this could be about,,, literally anywhere in the US. but IMAGINE it was Ireland. Imagine he was in Ireland with her. and ALSO???? him wanting to marry her??? like please. dont do this to me

"Coaches have no honor," Kevin said, ragged with renewed heartbreak and despair. [...] "Your word is enough. Just yours."

PUUUUUUKE. too much to unpack.

"They'll be too busy drooling over you to care what you're saying. Works on me every time." Nicky wasn't the only one so easily swayed, but if Nicky and Kevin were both too blind to figure that out David wasn't going to put it together for them.

I know the automatic assumption is Andrew but like,, what if he means Neil. and misread how obsessed neil is with him. Just a thought. But either way what a THING to SAY DAVID

David wasn't a praying man, and he'd never quite decided whether he believed in an afterlife, but for a second he glanced up at the sky in search of Kayleigh's disapproving glower. "I'm sorry," He said, and he went back inside to find a drink of his own.

once again screaming crying throwing up. He cared about her SO much

#i have too many incoherent thoughts #so this'll have to do for now #aftg bonus chapters #aftg spoilers #aftg bonus chapters spoilers #aftg extra chapters #aftg extra chapters spoilers #idk what else to tag it #mine

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 1 year ago

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Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 1774 words

a/n: ahhhh it's so surreal to know so many of you like this story!! thank you, thank you thank you so much!! your comments, likes and reblogs mean the absolute world to me!! I already have another fic in mind that I can't wait to share hehe. I was hoping to have this posted yesterday but the week was a bit busier. I'm aiming to post twice a week now that the story will pick up from here! hope you enjoy this chapter!! lots of love <3

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Chapter 3

Things hadn't been the same for the boys anymore. It was six months since you disappeared, without any trace and they were unable to locate you with their bond. Fear had engulfed them when they were told of the attack. They wasted no time in getting back to the mansion to protect you, as their mate and alpha protectiveness senses rang out.

But when they returned, you were nowhere to be found. Cleo, who had been saved by a member of the pack recounted what happened up until you two went separate ways. They searched for you but came back with no clues.

Where did you go?

In fact, when they tried to call for you through the soul bond, they discovered how strained the bond had become.

Slowly, each member began to realise just how little they had seen or been with you, and could not even recall the last time you spent time together. At first they tried to deny the truth, surely, there had to be another reason? They couldn’t fathom not taking notice sooner and allowing the connection to reach like this.

Hongjoong's father wasted no time in educating them about their actions when they came to him seeking answers, especially when his wife tried to pipe in.

“It’s your fault.” he declared unapologetically.

As he recounted everything to them, they were shattered and distraught by their actions. It dawned on them how ignorant they were to assume that you would always be there no matter what. If there was anything they were taught, it was how precious life is and how important it is to care for those around you.

How could they do this to you?

"We all make mistakes." Mr. Kim said, "But one can only be redeemed, when he’s willing to learn from it and make a change."

After that confrontation, neither of the boys were the same again. With you now apart from them, your missing presence was felt more than ever in the home. Yeosang walked the mansion’s hall completely despondent, hoping to possibly find you in the little corner where the two of you read, every time he entered the room. Alas, you were not there. When Yunho woke up every morning and heard movement in the kitchen, his heart raced as he believed it was perhaps you, making breakfast just as you always would…but it was only Seonghwa who carried about low-spirited and disheartened. Yunho noticed the dark circles that were forming under the eldest eyes - Seonghwa never slept like he used to, getting approximately 3 to 4 hours of sleep and waking up at daybreak, trying to busy himself so he could forget the aching feeling in his chest just for a little while. He didn’t cry but rather, bottled up his emotions since being the eldest, he felt like he needed to be the strong one for the others. But, like every glass that reaches its brim, Seonghwa finally broke down when Yunho approached and back-hugged him in the tightest hug possible as he let his own tears fall.

Unlike Seonghwa, San and Jongho slept all day when they could and only left their rooms, if it was for something important. But nothing else felt important except you, so much to their disdain, they ventured out of their rooms, only to head straight back once they got home. Wooyoung became quieter and stuck to Yeosang like glue. He didn’t do or say anything much, he was just there. Sometimes he would stare at the front door, hoping to see you waltz in with your charming smile and he could rush to you and spin you around like he always did. And then playfully scold you and then apologise profusely.

However, there was one particular wolf who was extremely impacted to the point where nothing could comfort him. While the others still tried to find solace in sleep or in each other, Mingi was unable to find consolation in anything. He felt like his heart had been ripped off his chest and there was a void that was only something you could fill. But they still couldn't find you. Mingi tried to initiate the bond hoping that you would feel it and call out to him, but like all the other times he tried, there was no response. He cried until the early hours of the morning and he could not sleep. Even if he dozed off, his dreams were of you and then he would jolt awake again, the aching, distressful and bitter void resurfacing again and he remembers you’re still not here. Then the cycle would continue.

As the boys coped differently, the most different was Hongjoong, who by all accounts had become emotionless and also very mean. He would let Lila wrap her arms around him as if they were a couple, he would try to bring her home only to have Seonghwa immediately denounce it and make it abundantly clear that this kind of behaviour would not be allowed or tolerated. Lila would leave the second she stepped foot into the foyer and Seonghwa and Hongjoong would have it out until the latter stomped off to his room never to be heard from again until the next morning. And that was if anyone did see him. He would leave before Seonghwa came out of his room. It took all effort in Mingi when he did see Hongjoong to not punch him in the jaw. He did not know what he was playing at, and quite frankly, he did not care to know Hongjoong's excuses as he was already extremely fed up, especially because of the way Hongjoong's mother spoke.

"Maybe you should forget her and move on with someone else," she said as she eyed Lila, “The pack needs their Luna and people are talking.”

That was during a family dinner with all their respective families. First and foremost, Mingi was not amused. He was already dragged to the dining hall against his will, and then when he saw Lila present standing next to Hongjoong, he was ready to just explode into thin air. And then, Hongjoong’s mom decided to speak, and that was the last straw.

It didn't take even a second for Mingi to slam his hands on the table and get up with a low growl in his throat.

“With all due respect Mrs Kim, I suggest you stay out of our personal lives and let us handle it on our own. Your comments are very unnecessary.” he seethed venomously.

Mingi then stalked off, slamming the door behind him. He didn't care if he was disrespectful, he was fed up with the nonsense. It baffled him as to why Mrs Kim had such disdain for you, ever since he met you, you told him about her low tolerance for you but there was never a clear indication as to why.

He knew you were still alive and he knew the other boys felt it too. Your soul connection was still there, though strained, he could feel it lingering. But where exactly were you? He was interrupted by Wooyoung shouting his name.

“Mingi wait!”

“What are you doing here Wooyoung?”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave like that, not everyone is pleased at your outburst.”

“And? I do not care Wooyoung, I’m not going back to listen to Mrs Kim spew ridiculous nonsense. Lila shouldn’t even be there.”

“I know and I agree. Mrs Kim has wanted to replace Y/N since the beginning but she should know better than to even suggest something like that.”

“Go back and tell them I won’t be coming back any time soon. I need to clear my head.”

“Fine but please reach out, I can’t lose you too…” Wooyoung muttered.

Mingi turned to the black-haired boy and saw the fear in his eyes. Wooyoung is the second youngest and basked in being taken care of, doted on and adored by you. In contrast to Jongho who was more reserved most of the time and sought you out privately, Wooyoung, although an alpha, is like a playful child. You were right in between Mingi and Wooyoung in age and so, right before you came Mingi and at a time like this, Wooyoung saw Mingi as the closest.

“I will, don’t worry.” he answered in a soothing and reassuring tone.

After Wooyoung left and Mingi decided he wasn't going back home to get an earful from his parents, he sauntered off towards the lake and the Moon temple.

He recalled Cleo saying it was the direction you went when you two broke off. Maybe he could find something there.

Arriving at the clearing of the lake, he saw the shimmering blue water glistening under the moonlight. It was another full moon, just like when you disappeared. He had to spend the holidays and his birthday without you and he hated it. Mingi couldn’t even recollect the times he had spent holidays and birthdays by himself. As soon as you and the boys came into his life, his life became a kaleidoscope of colours.

When Mingi saw the temple, he felt his walls come down. He forgot about Mrs Kim’s comments and the anger that bubbled through his veins. Instead, the wave of pain and hurt opened like a locked dam and he fell on his knees in front of the temple, choked with tears.

"Please..." he cried, "Please bring her back. I need her. I-I was so wrong for what I did. I can't believe I treated her that way. I promise! I'll do better! I won't ever neglect her again. Please bring my angel back. Please."

Mingi sobbed and sobbed profusely that he didn't hear the rumble the first time. He thought it was his stomach and now was definitely not a good time. But then the second time, when he realised it was coming from elsewhere, he turned around to see the ripples in the lake and how much more brightly the water shone under the moonlight. It was mystical and divine. He approached the lake cautiously, he couldn't explain it, but he felt a pull and for some reason…he felt you. Your tie to him and your aura felt to be coming from the lake. But was that possible? He pushed away any intrusive thoughts, focusing solely on you, a clear image of your bright smile and eyes lit up etched into his mind. It was the way you would always look at him as you cupped his face in your hand and teased him before kissing him.

Mingi inched closer, trying to take his time.

But then he fell in.

#ot8 ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez series #ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez

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lotsoflola · 10 months ago

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never ever ever - l. haechan [introduction]

summary: you've had your heart broken for the fifth time in two months, and however much you just want to spend the night crying, someone keeps interfering... genre: enemies to lovers warnings: swearing, reader sleeps around, harsh language, implied smut but nothing in this chapter wc: 1.1k author's note: this series is going to take a hot minute but here's the introduction for the first fic to keep you guys fed

"hi kun," you slurred, the liquor streaming in your bloodstream evident through the way you collapsed against the bar. your mind was foggy, your fingertips were tingling, and the far-too-revealing dress you was falling clung to your curves more than ever.

the bartender giggled, knowing his favourite regular, and finishing polishing the glass in front of him. "jesus, it's only eight. how are you this fucked already?"

you pushed yourself up, leaning over the counter to grab a bottle of cheap beer, throwing a fiver down on the table. "you know that guy i was seeing? in your frat?"

kun hummed, all too used to your antics. you were known across campus for being a flirt, for drinking too much and having fun with as many men as you saw fit. it was no surprise, you were drop dead gorgeous, with a body sculpted by aphrodite herself, and the personality to match. you were dangerous, and didn't you know it.

"yeah, i broke it up."

kun chuckled lightly. "surprise, surprise. come on, how long was that? a week?"

"two weeks, actually," you sighed, taking a large swig from your beer, "i don't know, he just wasn't exciting like that. got bored of him. so i ended it."

"so why isn't he the one drinking alone on a thursday night with a class at 9am tomorrow?" the bartender teased, earning a middle finger from the girl across from him.

"i'm allowed to be sad, kun," you finished the beer with your words, the bitter aftertaste refreshing on your tongue. you leant over the bar to grab another one, but were met with a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in her tracks.

he tutted under his breath. "i think you've had enough for tonight, honey."

honey. the nickname fell naturally from his lips. the one your parents used to call you when you was a child. the one you only let those close to you say because of the power it held. the one those special people only used in special scenarios due to the impact it had on you.

you knew it was stupid to care so much about a stupid nickname. god, you wished you didn't care so much about it. but the second those words left someones lips you were putty in their hands. that's why you only let those you cared about say it.

"pissed on a week night already? i expected better from you, honey. didn't you only date that guy for a week?"

those you cared about. and him.

lee haechan was the new hot thing on campus, throwing himself at girls as much as he could and becoming the hot topic on their tongue as he wowed them in bed. at least that what he claimed, you had never spoken to any of these girls with enough time to discuss his ability in bed, not that you would ever bring it up. words could not describe how much you hated him.

"shut up, haechan. no one fucking asked for your opinion," you spat, still attempting to grab another beer while you wrestled with kun.

the young boy laughed, sitting on the stool next to you. "such nasty words from such a pretty face, can't tell me that hendery fucked you up that badly."

his words always got to you, always nestled under your skin in a way that no one else did, no one else could. "don't know why you always feel the need to get involved."

"don't know why you always end up a shitty mess after dating a guy for three days-"

"okay, okay, come behind the bar, there you go," kun manouvered you around the bar, sensing the tension and not wanting to see where it would end up.

your and haechan's rivalry was well known across campus, since freshman year you had made your distate of the man known. you were in the same business class, and every single lesson he spent somehow teasing or testing you, and when he got your number it was somehow worse.

"honestly, you would think you had matured by now, been about three years of passing through men for about three weeks each before slagging them off and dating their best friends, or maybe some people are just sluts and can't help-"

"fuck off, hyuck," kun snapped, physically holding you back at this point, one hand wrapped around your waist as he forced you down onto the stool behind him, giving you a glass of water in a poor attempt to sober you up. "fight her another day."

"not looking for a fight," haechan's voice was aggrevatingly smooth, as if he wasn't lying through his teeth, "just speaking the truth. if she can't handle that, then that's on her."

"lee donghyuck, i swear to-"

kun finally snapped, covering your mouth with his hand before turning to the smirking man in front of you. "get out, haechan."

"kun," he whined, face suddenly dropping, "cmon i was joking."

but the bartender didn't back down, pointing towards the door with his spare time. "she's not doing good right now, get out."

"you're losing a paying customers business," he sighed, but complied with the older gentleman, sending you a flying kiss before getting up to leave the bar. "night, doll."

you held your middle finger up at him, but you could feel yourself getting sleepier in kun's hold, and before you knew it you were struggling to keep your eyes open, body slumped against the wall as your eyeslashes fluttered.

"gonna kill him," you mumbled to yourself, drunk and delirious.

kun laughed, wandered over to you and patting you gently on the head. "who, hyuck?"

"yeah. fucking hate him."

"i don't think you do," kun knelt on the floor in front of you, meeting your eyeline. it was a quiet night, and all he could do was look after his friend. "i think you guys secretly like each other. maybe even love."

you scoffed, letting an assortment of drunk laughs and hiccups emerge from your mouth. "love him?! you're crazy, kun."

"trust me. i just know these things."

"i will never love him," you stated, words sounding very defintiive, even as you were dozing off, "never ever ever."

#fic: never ever ever #series: neo culture tech university #nct 127 imagine #nct imagine #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct #nct dream imagine #lee haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan imagine #lee donghyuck smut #donghyuck smut

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sunny44 · 1 year ago

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Business party

Pairing: Max Verstappen x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: couple fight.

Summary: The night of the company party has finally arrived and Y/n was super excited to introduce her boyfriend Max to her work friends but unfortunately the night doesn't end as she would have liked.

Next Chapter

It was the day of the party for the company you worked for, you were super excited to attend since you would formally introduce your boyfriend Mason to your friends but at the last minute, Mason decided that he is no longer going.

Finally the day had come.

I was super excited for this party and even more excited to officially introduce Mason to my friends from work.

He was away training but would arrive on time to get ready, meanwhile I was getting ready for the party.

After showering and washing my hair I dried it and did some curls and as I was finishing my makeup I heard the noise from downstairs.

I finished with my lipstick and went downstairs wrapped in my robe to find my boyfriend in the kitchen.

"Hi love." I smiled and gave him a kiss. "How was the simulator?"

"It was good, tiring but good."

"Are you going to shower now so we won't be late."

"Late for what?"

"For the party."

"Oh I'm not going to the party." Just as he says this I feel the sadness hit me.

"What do you mean you're not going? I warned you months ago and you promised you would go with me."

"I know but I changed my mind, I don't want to go anymore. I'm tired."

"But Max you promised and..."

"I'm not going, can you just leave me alone? I'm tired from the day and I don't feel like going to this stupid party." He says rudely, and I shut up.

"You always do this, when it's something important to you I have to support you and go to those stupid Redbull events, but when it's something important to me you let me down like I don't matter to you. I always prioritize you and support you in everything so why don't you do the same thing for me?"

"I never made you go."

"I go to support you, and as my boyfriend I expected you to do the same thing for me."

"I already said I'm not going."

"Then I'll go without you."

I went back to our room and put on my skirt and blouse, the one that I had bought just to match his tie. I grabbed a jacket and my purse, went downstairs and got the car key from the door.

"You don't have to wait for me, I'm not coming home."

I slammed the door behind me and headed for the party.

I had to hold back tears many times tonight just because all my friends were asking about Max and I had to lie saying that he couldn't come, I didn't have the heart to say that he let me down because he was tired.

"So where is the much talked boyfriend."

Stacy, for sure one of the people I wasn't the least bit interested in introducing Max to, she hates me for some reason unknown to me, it's always been that way since I joined the company.

"He couldn’t make it, he got tired of the simulator."

"Oh yeah, he's an F1 driver." She says wryly. "What's his name again? If he even exists."

"It's Max and I don't have to prove anything to you, if you'll excuse me."

I left there and went to the bar, I honestly had lost all excitement about the party, the reason I wanted to be there was an idiot with me. And once again that night I felt like crying.

“Are you ok?" My friend Kylie asks.

"Yeah, just bummed Max couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry, I know you really wanted to introduce him to us."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore." She smiled sadly and I took the last sip of my drink.

"Are you okay to drive later?" She says pointing to my drink.

"Yeah, not only is this night sucking, but I'm still drinking a non-alcoholic drink.” She laughs. "Actually, I’m going home.”

"Are you sure? We can still dance and have fun."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up but I'm really not in the mood."

"All right, see you Monday."

"See you."

I didn't want to go home, I was mad at him and also because I said I wouldn't come back but my sister was traveling so I couldn't go to her apartment. When I arrived I left my heels on the door and locked up, went upstairs to our room and when I opened the door Max was lying down watching TV.

"Guess you weren’t so tired after all."

"Can we talk?"

"No, I’m too tired to talk." I said walking into the bathroom and locking the door.

I took off my dress and put on my pajamas, took off all my makeup and when I was done I left the bathroom taking my cell phone and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sleeping here."

"Baby I'm sorry I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses Mex, when I wanted you to listen to me you didn't, so I'm not going to stay here and listen to your stupid excuses after you ruined my night." He doesn’t say nothing. "I honestly still don't know why I’m still trying."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't stand feeling like I'm the only one who values this relationship anymore. I'm tired of F1 always coming ahead of me in this relationship.”

"That's not true." He stands up.

"Then why didn't you go today? Oh yes because you were tired of driving an imaginary car in that stupid simulator." He still in silent. "I work just as hard as you do Max, but I've never let my work get in the way of our relationship. But I don't think you care about me as much as I care about you. So maybe we shouldn't be together.”

I wiped the tear that ran down my cheek and left the room, slamming the door and going to sleep from the guest room.

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername stories

“It suck’s that my night was ruined.”

This will have a part 2 so let me know if you want to be tagged

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soloroomies · 5 months ago

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lifemate (Chapter 5/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: the day you're tying the knot with your very dear friend, Kiyoomi word count. 2.1k cw. marriage pact au a/n. another update! I'm happy that I can update this story quickly. Writing this is really fun for me hehe <3

Masterlist

Not long after you and Sakusa discussed your plans, you both decided to share the exciting news of your upcoming marriage with your families and closest friends. The reactions were nothing short of dramatic. You think it’s a mix of shock at how quickly you both decided to tie the knot and genuine happiness for you. Some of them called you immediately, the most popular question being, “How did this happen so fast?!” So, you shared the love story you and Sakusa have crafted together. Some responded with a knowing “I knew it!” claiming they had a gut feeling you’d end up together. You just laughed at their responses, finding it amusing because there was no way they could have predicted this—both of you were truly just friends before. Your psychology textbook was right about hindsight bias.

Since the wedding is simple and you both hired a wedding organizer to handle most of the planning, there isn’t much left for you to do except look for your wedding dress. You also chose your bridesmaids. At first, you want four people as your bridesmaid, including Tami. Unfortunately, Tami is incredibly busy this month with business trips. Even Tami, who knows all your plans, was surprised. She didn’t expect your wedding to be held in the second month of the year. You explained it’s because you both want to do this before the volleyball season starts. Luckily, she doesn’t have any plans on your wedding day and assured you she would attend. Therefore, the people you chose as your bridesmaids are two of your cousins, Yuuki and Nana, and one of your childhood friends from home, Aya. They’re all thrilled to be part of your special day.

Today is the day you choose your wedding dress, just two weeks away from your wedding day. You actually have a lot of fun looking up wedding dress inspiration. Weddings used to make you kind of emotional when you were a teenager and a hopeless romantic. But then, as an adult with a hectic life, you weren’t really expecting a wedding for yourself. Yet here you are now, somehow able to have one. So, you’ll enjoy this process as a gift to your teenage self.

It’s Saturday, and you’re glad that everyone is available. All of you have a group chat discussing the stores you’ll visit. So, you go through those stores, seeing the dresses they display online, trying some of them on, and deciding which one is the best. After a few stores and trying on more than ten dresses, one dress stands out. It’s a classic and elegant gown with a fitted bodice and a full ball gown skirt. It features a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The skirt is made of layers of tulle and organza, giving it volume and a fairytale-like look. The back of the dress is adorned with covered buttons and a long flowing train, adding dramatic flair.

Your three companions seem to have the same thought as you. Nana even starts to shed tears, making the other two emotional as well. You turn to look at them and can’t help but feel a bit emotional yourself. “Guys, please don’t cry! You’ll make me cry,” you say. You stare at your reflection in the mirror and feel a sense of enchantment and awe. This is the dress, you think.

In the days leading up to your wedding, you frequently communicate with Kiyoomi, juggling to find time between your work and his practice. You handle some legal matters and move many of your belongings from your apartment to his, leaving only the essentials for the remaining days. This often brings you to his apartment, where you arrange your things with him, assisted by people from the furniture moving and rearrangement services you hired. Some furniture is no longer needed, so you sell those pieces.

Two days before the wedding, you arrive home after work and are suddenly overwhelmed by an indescribable feeling. You've already finished some of your project-based side jobs, giving you more spare time than usual. Your apartment, now mostly empty, feels strange, as most of your belongings have already been moved to Kiyoomi’s place.

Your phone vibrates, and you see new texts from Kiyoomi. He sends a picture of a painting you made on a medium-sized canvas that used to hang in your living room. Initially, you wanted to leave it behind, thinking you had already brought too much. But when Kiyoomi visited your apartment, he asked about the painting and suggested it would look great in "our" living room, meaning his apartment where you will soon move in. The picture he sent shows the painting now hanging in the living room. His next text asks, ‘Is this too far to the right?’ You examine the photo and find the painting perfectly centered, so you respond, ‘no! it’s perfect.’

You then realize that you feel a swirl of excitement and nervousness, as the reality of starting a new chapter in your life and leaving behind the familiar truly sinks in.

For this wedding, there were no pre-wedding events like engagement parties or bridal showers. As agreed upon, the entire event was to be simple. There was no honeymoon planned either. When some of your cousins inquired, you explained that you both wanted to wait for a better season and were eager to enjoy your newlywed life in your own home.

The sound of your alarm wakes you up, and you look around the unfamiliar bed, momentarily confused. Then it hits you—you’re not in your apartment but in the hotel of your wedding venue. The bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, and some family members are also staying here. And, of course, Kiyoomi, too. Shaking off the sleepiness, you decide to take a shower and call room service for breakfast.

Checking your phone, you see a few messages from family and friends who have arrived in town, expressing their excitement to see you later. You smile, responding to each message with heartfelt gratitude.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your hotel room door. Expecting it to be your bridesmaids or parents, you open it and are surprised to see Kiyoomi’s mother standing there. She looks at you and smiles warmly. Bowing slightly, you welcome her into your room, mentioning that you’ve just finished breakfast and inviting her to sit beside you.

Unexpectedly, she wraps you in a warm and comforting hug. Taken aback for a moment, you quickly return the hug. Then she looks at you, caresses your hair, and holds your hand. Her gaze is soft and carries warmth.

“I want to tell you how grateful I am to have you joining our family,” she says, her voice filled with genuine emotion. You look at her, your mind blank, unable to find the words to respond. She continues, “You remember you used to come to our house, right?”

You nod, the memories flooding back. You recall the nostalgia of your high school days, when you often visited Kiyoomi’s house with Komori. Kiyoomi’s mom was always more outgoing than Kiyoomi and his father, often inviting you over for dinner. You usually brought your homework along, finishing it with Kiyoomi at their kitchen table.

“I’ve admired you since then,” she says. “I know we haven’t seen each other much since you both graduated high school, but I’ve always known you will leave a lasting impact on Omi's life. I often asked him about you, you know?” She laughs, a light, joyful sound.

You smile at her words, touched by her sincerity. “I’m happy that you’ve always stayed in touch with each other. And I was overjoyed when I heard the news. I’m just... I’m glad it’s you. You complement each other so beautifully, and I couldn't be happier to see my son marry such an incredible person.”

She pauses, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Know that you have my unwavering support, love, and respect. I look forward to many happy moments together as a family.”

Tears well up in your eyes at her genuine words. “Thank you so much for your kind words. They mean a lot to me,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

You hug her, feeling the warmth and acceptance in her embrace. She holds you tightly, then pulls back slightly to look at you. “Please call me Mom, okay?”

You nod, a tearful smile on your face.

After she leaves your room, you're left with your thoughts. You feel a wave of gratitude for Kiyoomi’s supportive mother, but a tinge of guilt also lingers. You and Kiyoomi had to fabricate your love story, making it seems like you are deeply in love. It feels wrong that she believes you and Kiyoomi are head over heels for each other. However, you genuinely care, adore and respect him as a friend. You promise yourself that you’ll hold onto these feelings throughout your marriage.

As the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the bustling city, you stand by the window, taking in the view of the skyline. Nana, Yuuki, and Aya bustle around your hotel room, helping with the final touches on your wedding gown. You opted to do your makeup yourself, choosing a natural and fresh look, and now, as you gaze into the mirror, you feel satisfied with the result. Aya hands you your bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus. Your wedding photographer snaps a few photos of you and your bridesmaids before it's time to head downstairs.

You hear the sound of laughter and chatter from the poolside area of the hotel, where everyone’s waiting. Stepping outside, you take in the beautiful wedding venue. At one end of the pool, a stunning gazebo draped in sheer white fabric and entwined with ivy and blooming flowers serves as the altar. The aisle leading to the gazebo is lined with lanterns and rose petals.

You stand at the edge of the aisle and take a deep breath. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the pool, and you see the familiar faces of your family and friends turned toward you. Your father takes your arm, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and smiles at you.

As you approach the altar, your eyes lock with Kiyoomi’s. He looks unbelievably handsome in his tuxedo, the black fabric fitting perfectly on his broad shoulders and slender frame. You've never felt quite like this seeing him before. His black wavy hair is neatly styled, but a few rebellious curls frame his face, adding to his effortlessly charming look.

His eyes scan you and he gives a genuine smile he rarely shows to anyone. When you finally reach him, he gently takes your hand. Then, the officiant begins the ceremony.

After a few words, the officiant says “Please face each other and join hands,”. “Do you, Sakusa Kiyoomi, take ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

You look up at Kiyoomi, feeling a flutter of nerves under his intense gaze. “I do,” he says firmly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Do you, ___ , take Sakusa Kiyoomi to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

You take a deep breath, remembering your meeting with Kiyoomi’s mother and the thoughts that followed. “I do,” you reply, smiling at Kiyoomi.

As the officiant pronounces you both husband and wife, your hands tremble slightly. You think Kiyoomi notices because he squeezes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring, melting away your nerves. “You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announces. Kiyoomi cups your face, his touch sending a shiver of electricity through you. As you look up, you see his gaze soften and his lips curve into a tender smile.

When he leans in, you realize this will be your very first kiss with him, and it will happen as husband and wife! You try to calm yourself and place your hands on his chest. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his lips meeting yours. The kiss is soft and tender.

As you part, his forehead rests gently against yours, and your breaths mingle. You open your eyes to find him looking at you with adoration you’ve never seen before, taking your breath away all over again and stirring emotions you can't quite describe. You notice his hand still lingering on your face before the crowd around you erupts into applause and cheers. He smiles at you, making you smile at him too.

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afreakingdork · 4 months ago

Text

Soft Spot - Chapter 1

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

And so it begin with chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I'm Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

You didn’t think once about how lovely the day would be as you finished dressing. You hadn’t checked the weather and you didn’t plan to. It felt like a given, as many things had since your honeymoon. Rain or shine, your days were fine. You had the love of your life, you had a menagerie of caring friends, you had health, and you had happiness.

What more could you ask?

In some ways, it felt like a far cry from before and in others it was a given. You were karmically due for some respite and the world provided. Maybe once in a while, things didn’t go your way, but they were mere flubs compared to the life ending threats you had once dealt with. Now your worst case scenario was forgetting an umbrella which your doting husband often circumvented by bringing you one anyway.

You adored the mutant.

He was just around the partition separating your bedroom and living room. You rounded it to him like fate. He clearly had a wherewithal you didn’t as he was already standing in position with one of your jackets pinched out and ready in his fingertips. He was your other half and as such covered such oversights. Moving over to him, you spun around in the process so you could slip one arm through the jacket. He helped you through the other sleeve and once you were cloaked in your outerwear you turned to him.

As his pair, you similarly made up for his oversights. That currently came in the form of soothing, which you did by reaching up to pet his cheek. Donnie came down in a churr and rumbled sweetly for you as you took the edge off of your outing. It would be busy out today, both for the weather and day of the week, but taking the time here to prepare him would soften the blow.

It was his form of protection and when he was fully saturated by it, he sent satisfaction through your wedding band.

He drifted from your fingers with a smile and turned to address the door. You patted yourself down for your necessary objects and Donnie flashed the lining of his coat to say he had done the same. You both lingered in a soft gaze because of it before you headed out. You fit perfectly side by side as you headed down the wall.

Donnie took only a slight step out of turn and, from it, you knew what kind of day this would be. It was one to be prolonged and he made the first maneuver by choosing to take the stairs. You hopped forward, a movement out of turn in hopes of startling him, but he’d long grown used to your idiosyncrasies. He slowed only for your sake and you asked him to watch with your eyes as you bounced down the steps, making sure each got their time.

You hit the first landing with your hands outstretched and turned with the gouache of an Olympian. He feigned a clap and held up a paltry score that wasn’t just because of his missing fingers. You pretended to sulk only for a moment before you swept a hand in a challenge for him to do better. He graced your appendage with a glance before he dipped the smallest amount and soared through the air. With perfect grace, he landed at the next landing and looked back to await his score.

You gave him two goose eggs and his brow dropped with protest. You waved him off, demonstrating each of your steps with the tapping of a ballet dancer and how avoiding the stairs had negated his performance. He scoffed a silent air and just as you were lulled into a false sense of security with his supposed irritation, he hooked your waist.

You trilled happily as he twirled you while offsetting the force. It became a waltz, taken around a stair railing and then down the steps. Your nerves edged your vision, never quite catching your mind as Donnie’s steps were sure ones. He made sure you both took each platform and didn’t stop on the next landing. He followed through, only changing the dance to a faster one and lifting you in the process. You sashayed all the way down to the ground floor where you laughed and held each other.

It came with an eager kiss necessary to offset your bubbling hearts.

You then pulled him, finding his hand, and took him out the building. Onto the road, the light chill in the almost autumn air made you glad for your coat. You squeezed his hand in appreciation and he returned the sentiment as you melded with the pedestrians. They walked around you, setting speed which you both matched as you’d grown up here. In different, but similar enough ways, you knew the flow and wound down to a crosswalk.

A bold man didn’t stop for the light and ran directly into traffic as he thought himself better than it. Cars honked in protest and screeched to a halt. You rolled your eyes at the folly and lingered with the more reasonable pedestrians that valued their lives. A cabbie got out of one stopped car to instigate a fight and the further stop to traffic elicited more honks. It was just another day you thought, until Donnie ripped his hand from yours.

You saw a swoop of motion that you had only learned to catch because of your super-powered mate. His jacket swirled a seemingly threatening black mass as he dropped down low. Fog of him crawled along the ground where a toddler took shape. A mother screamed behind you and the full picture of what was happening took form.

Another car, tired of the cabbie’s pause, had peeled out through a dip in oncoming traffic to get free. A small child had slipped from his mother’s grasp while she watched the makings of a fist fight. The kid was too young to fully understand why he was waiting if the cars had seemingly stopped. He went to cross dutifully and your husband had flown into action to save him.

Time restarted and with it Donnie rounded back to you. He put his carapace toward the road and wrapped up safely to his chest was the happily squealing child. The small one clapped at the apparent play time and the mother shoved you out of the way. You didn’t fault her in a stumble, but Donnie clearly did. He had choice words ready for the woman, but she only reached out for her child with sobbing eyes.

It unnerved your mate who slowly unfurled to offer back the kid.

She pelted him with endless gratitude and clung to her child while admonishing those who threatened him. The kid looked around with wide eyes at whatever was occurring and reached back for Donnie. Your husband looked close to accepting a tiny fist bump, but the driver of the car that had almost hit the kid flew out with a smack of his door.

He shouted if everyone was alright and the mother reared rage on him. As if they smelt chummed waters, the jaywalker and cabbie both entered the foray for their two cents. Everyone was soon faulted and screamed and your poor mate was struggling amongst it all. He stood a pillar on edge from the grating voices and the signal finally turned. A few people who cared little moved and you caught Donnie to sneak away with them. Only the mother noticed, yelling out final thank yous as you continued down the street.

It took a few blocks for Donnie to signal that he had calmed by sending it through your bond. You responded with a contrasting calm to how you felt and immediately steered him into a building. He came with confusion and once you had him barely shielded by some stonework, you hugged into him and let your pride wash over him. He was struck by both feelings, probably a little overwhelming considering, but relented soon enough to hold you back.

He had settled for closed eyes and stroking your spine when you finally lifted your head. He cracked his lids to smile down at you and you leaned up for a quick peck in public. He allowed the brushing of lips once before he straightened his posture. You gave him space and this time he led you to your destination, the park.

You walked there, strolling through the walkways and pointing out leaves that had just started their transformation for the new season. They were few and far between, but some of the green was marbled with the warmer hue change and Donnie collected an especially swirled one for you to admire. You kept it close and he told you about the biological mechanism when an instrument played.

You both located the busker who had attracted a small crowd and the music perfectly back dropped the weather. Your head faintly rolled in tune with the beat and Donnie leaned against your side as a way to translate he was similarly content. The song came to an end and cash was tossed at a case. You bumped your mate to say one ballad was enough, but you noticed his head was trained off to the side. It took a bit of leaning on your part, but you found him locked in a staring battle with another toddler.

You smiled at the baby’s gawking and rounded Donnie enough to see his face. He was the picture of confusion with pinched brows and a hardened gaze. You tapped him lightly to get his attention and he had to double take before he sent bewilderment down to you. You took him in with a smile and a comment about how that was what babies did.

He didn’t seem to believe you and glanced back at where the kid had yet to look away. You knew he would need a demonstration so you held up your hand and cooed with a wave. The toddler immediately shifted his gaze to you and his mouth opened for not quite a smile, but acknowledgement of the tone that it knew was just for them. You continued to beckon with your fingers and added a hello which prompted the father holding them. The man bounced the child and asked them to return the greeting. The child looked back at his parent once as if to check before sending a happy squeak at you.

You giggled and felt Donnie’s gaze fly between you. You then looked up at him and gave a nudge for him to try. His gaze waned with worry before he looked toward the child. The father turned his whole body to address Donnie and you mentally thanked that the man was mutant-friendly. Tucking closer to your mate, you helped him bring his arm up and urged him to wave. Donnie did so awkwardly and the child flapped its arms. The father cheered along and laughed off a thank you before he returned to watching the performance.

Donnie’s gaze plummeted and you checked in with him through your connection. He read a sort of forlorn and you turned up questions as to why. He shook his head and instead asked to continue along. You went with him and tried to stave off your questions. He appreciated it in a glance that said he was thinking of phrasing. You gave him space and people watched as you walked.

Trees cooled the walkways and the chill nipped relentlessly at your jacket. The concrete took on a similarly icy look with blue hues and you yearned for the pockets of sun you could see out near the open plot. You pointed Donnie to go along and he nodded for you to go ahead.

It took another short stretch, but you were greeted with a green lawn that was dotted with people. From picnics to yard games, there was only separation between groups for modesty's sake. Not wanting to intrude, you stood on the edge of the grass and lifted your head so the sun’s rays cascaded over your skin. The warmth poured over you and dripped down into your jacket.

It wasn’t until you were thoroughly toasted that you looked toward your partner. He was posed just as you were and was probably even warmer in his shades of black. He animated at your gaze, first chipping away at his statue to then crumble down with a wry gaze just for you.

You bumped him for the sake of it and he revealed his concerns. It had nothing to do with the child or the man, but instead his own inadequacies. You bombarded him with sympathy until he tucked an arm around you as if you were the one who needed consoling. He spoke to your better record of knowing how to deal with children. You remembered a certain incident that had also been in a park and asked him if this was tied to his lost childhood. He seemed hesitant to agree, but mentioned with a distant voice that he hoped the toddler would have more happy memories like that.

It was a sweet sentiment from what you considered the sweetest man and you told him just that. He spoke a scoff instead of giving one and pulled you close to him with tales of his beastly nature. You responded that even the most ferocious monsters had heirs and joked about movie children. Donnie got a kick out of how some were created and turned a foot out, ready to walk again.

You strolled anew, remembering what you could before you pulled out your phone. You let Donnie guide you as you located an article on such things and told him the more outlandish monster movie kids. He was tickled by your reciting and he moved you every so often to dodge a puddle of this or a dog walker not minding that. You thanked him, reading out the closing statement and were ready to put your phone away when some teens jogged by while talking about how something was this way.

You and Donnie shared an interested enough look before giving lazy pursuit. You lost the kids immediately, but your husband’s hearing was honed. He told you there was something about a pop-up shop and, after walking further down the path leading out of the park, he picked up talk of a food stall. It appeared soon after and trailed a long, winding line.

You headed independently toward the cart, just to get a look at what it was. With a colorful branding, it appeared to be slinging freshly cooked waffles with all sorts of topping. The cooked dough wafted your nose like a cartoon trance. You turned, trying not to float off and found your mate gone. You scanned the heads, knowing he was usually a foot taller than most of them and located him, smarmy, already in line.

You jogged over to him and just barely beat the next person so they couldn’t give you a nasty look. You asked Donnie how he knew and he simply said he didn’t. He explained that he got in line just in case and the worst case scenario was he would exit. You waved him down to kiss his cheek and he obliged with a little sass. You took it as a gratuitous act and bit the plump as punishment.

He rounded on you with a snap of his fangs then laughed with his pearly whites as you’d startled. You swatted at him playfully before asking him about yokai children. With their long life spans, you wondered how that fit into how they chose to have kids. It posed an interesting query to your husband and he was immediately piqued. He walked you through his thoughts and wasn’t quite sure.

It was like listening to research and he stumbled upon new hypotheses as he wove what he knew. It helped pass the time as the line moved at a snail’s pace. You figured waffles, especially fully sized ones being made to order, did take a relatively long time to cook. With many of the people in line having groups that meant each order was more than one and taking up space. The studious queue also spoke to worth so you figured you were in for quite the prize.

Donnie eventually ran out of what he could guess without proper data and conscripted S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. Your son texted back at a lightning fast rate and Donnie read out the responses. It was like being on a three-way call and Donnie delineated your responses with a marker letter from your name. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. pulled data and then got into an argument about birth rates with Donnie for the sake of it. You chuckled fondly at the pair and leaned sideways in line to count about twenty people who were still in front of you.

You appraised them with a bit of a grimace and stepped back into place. Donnie huffed about something being outrageous and put his phone up. You asked if Shelly was in time out and Donnie said that was exactly right. You teased him about being the bad cop parent and Donnie rebuffed being compared to the police force. He complained, teetering on nagging, and the line only moved one space.

It wasn’t him.

It was your bladder.

You had been out for several hours yet and the sun had made quite the trip in the sky. You weren’t really annoyed with your husband, but impatience was wearing on you. You chose to look around him and he churned commentary to try to recapture your interest. You ignored him and located a coffee shop across the street. You supposed you could pay the toll with something to sip on and finally admitted to Donnie what was irking you.

He shook his head at you and urged you to go. You smiled at him, but still took a moment to mention what you were doing to the people in line. The guy behind you that you thought might have been mad only commiserated and wished he could do the same. You thanked him and, with one last check in with your mate, you left the queue and crossed the street.

It was a quick trip as the lights were in your favor. There was only one person at the counter and you kept your pacing in place to a minimum until you could order and ask to use the restroom. You got Donnie something non-sugared to go with his waffle and yourself whatever you liked. The employee took down your name and passed you a key. You jogged off with it and, when you returned, your drinks were already ready.

You took them and headed back for a bit of a lag in crossing. You eventually made it to the right side of the street and saw Donnie in a waiting pattern. He almost looked like an entity that was in stasis when you weren’t around and you slowed to appreciate how silly he was. In stark contrast to him, the mother that stood in front of him was suddenly tipped as her young son yanked her pant leg. She addressed him harshly and it pulled Donnie’s attention.

You watched as the kid yelled and pointed across the street to the coffee shop you had headed to and the mother shook her head in response. You wondered if he also needed to go and you had mistakenly set a bad precedent. Whatever the case, the kid would not stop complaining so the mother searched her stroller.

She bent over and dug, but couldn’t seem to find something and her kid was relentless. He kept yanking on her until she yelled so loud you could pick up her voice. Her son sniveled once at a similar volume before he broke out into a red-faced tantrum. She groaned long and went to wearily mind what was happening when a twin cry screamed out.

You were getting closer now and saw another much younger child in the stroller. She had words for her first son and bent again to grab the younger. She bounced the similarly crying baby on her hip and you could now hear the older one sobbing about how badly he needed to go. Guilt washed over you and you held your drinks tight.

You could always text Donnie to ditch the waffle situation, but the mother shouted a clear agreement that she would take him as if it was a punishment. The child immediately stopped sobbing to instead ask if she was serious and she agreed with an angry tone. She then shared words about how she was not losing her spot after waiting this long and turned her attention to Donnie with momentary malevolence pouring off of her.

In a flash, she shoved the weeping baby in her arms straight into Donnie in a way that made his arms come up to take it. She demanded that he watch her kid for a minute and said he would understand since he was a father himself. Donnie balked and said nothing you could hear in return and the mother didn’t wait a second. She only hoisted a large purse from the stroller before catching her other child’s hand and yanking him across the street.

You walked up in growing awe and found Donnie staring, bewildered, at the child now in his possession. From where the baby had started crying from his sibling, it now only leaked residual mucus as it stared up at its new caretaker. You approached slowly, trying not to startle either party as you inched towards Donnie’s side.

As soon as he saw you he tried to give you the baby before he realized you were holding two drinks. He looked upon them with horror before he jostled the child as if to say that this life was far more precious than what you had just purchased. You appraised him with a long once over before you told him that you agreed with the mother’s position.

Donnie vehemently disagreed, but you weren’t to be pressed. You held the drinks staunchly in your grip and it left Donnie helplessly looking at the child. The kid’s head lolled a little as they looked up and down the person holding them. You heard Donnie whisper what to do and you told him to adjust his support as he was currently holding the baby around the middle like a burger.

It meant he had to pull the child closer, something he was clearly afraid to do. You flicked a quick glance at the state of the line before setting your drinks down. Donnie again tried to pass you the child, but you dodged him. He griped about your stubbornness and you reminded him of his as you caught his arm. In a gentle correction, you got one of Donnie’s arms under the baby’s backside and another behind its back. The child settled against Donnie’s plastron and bopped him a few times as if to make sense of the hard surface.

Donnie watched on in what was rapidly growing into awe and you asked him if he’d ever been near a baby before. He said not one that he’d ever held and you told him to remember what you saw of the father do not too long ago. Donnie hesitated for a long moment and you scooped up your drinks as the line moved a step. You slid the stroller along and when you returned to Donnie’s side, you saw your mate try to rhythmically jostle the baby.

You told him they were soft, but not that delicate and counted out a tempo for him. He bounced the baby in time and the child flailed with interest in the rocking. Donnie puffed out a flighty breath at his success and sent you a watery look. Your heart slammed in your chest and for a blink, you could see him cradling a similar, but different green bundle.

He’d make a wonderful father, you thought right then.

The baby made noise and Donnie’s attention snapped away from you. He couldn’t manage a baby voice, but he asked the child in a hushed tone how they were doing. The baby babbled something back and was unable to keep its voice from pitching. Donnie seemed moved and asked if that was right which delighted the child. They gurgled a few more sounds before they sniffled once. Donnie patted its back and wondered aloud about the earlier crying. The baby had no more to say and hiccupped in response.

Your husband held the child a little closer and you thought about time.

How long you’d been together.

Everything you’d been through.

His past.

Your future.

Children.

It was a constant pillow talk conversation due to his kink. It was also something that rarely left the proverbial bedroom. You vaguely remembered he had once shared a dream of you with a stroller, though he didn’t seem to equate it with what was happening now. His attention was solely on the little one which seemed only like a positive sign. He learned so fast that you had no doubt that he would probably become a better caretaker than you.

Were you ready?

There was a lot to consider.

Life had been peaceful.

Were you ready to disrupt that?

A child would change everything.

The baby burbled sternly to Donnie and he agreed that its mom was taking a while.

The line moved again.

You adjusted the stroller again.

Donnie stepped forward and reached a free finger up to tap the baby. The baby seemed surprised by the green digit and batted at it. Donnie joked about its strength and hypothesized where it would go. From baseball to anything else, he mooned at the many options.

The possibilities were endless.

You wanted to tell Donnie you were ready right then.

You’d do it.

The long miserable nights.

The lack of sleep.

The rewarding excitement.

The nurturing bond.

You’d do it all.

The baby sniveled the bit of gunk on their face.

You’d do it with Donnie.

The child then sneezed with their whole being and snot coated your mate.

For one tense moment, Donnie was totally silent. He had a clear patch of mucus spattered across his cheek and shirt. He moved in a bit of a horrored haunt and leaned down a bit to try to wipe it off. The baby took up the new real estate and smacked directly into the sticky goo. Donnie looked like his soul left his body as the baby’s arm flailed away and with it strang up the snot.

Your husband then slammed back to earth and pure revulsion painted him. He mouthed for you to help and you waffled with your cups. You were plotting out what to do when you heard the mother yell. You both turned and she didn’t appear mad and instead was just calling attention.

She took one look at Donnie before she burst out laughing. She then continued to chuckle and say that was how it was as she dug straight into her stroller. The other child hobbled up and looked up at Donnie curiously. Donnie stared trapped between the two and the mother appeared with a baby wipe. She swapped with Donnie, the cloth for the kid, and he immediately tried to clean his face off.

You asked if you could use the cup holder in the mother’s stroller and she heartily told you to go ahead. You dropped the drinks there and then moved to help your mate. He watched on in retching misery as you did your best to clean him. The mother had another wipe ready and more words of gratitude. She then spoke highly on her keen senses and how she knew a good father when she saw one. She appraised your choice in partner as well, casually discarding the mutant thing as nothing to worry about when it came to bagging a good man.

You chuckled and she got the baby back into the stroller. The line moved again and again and you continued your conversation with the woman. Donnie animated after five or six people petered out and lobbed his own question about the snot. The mother laughed about how kids were gross and Donnie listened with rapt attention.

You were getting closer and closer to the front of the line and the woman had switched to showing you pictures on her phone. Donnie was appropriately interested and you only dodged her request to see photos of your son because the waffle purveyor called her turn. She parted from you, sending a final thanks, and the older boy tugged Donnie’s coat.

Donnie chuffed down at the kid who thanked him loudly for letting him poop.

Donnie responded with an equally serious response that these things happened.

The kid ate it up and nodded before turning to get his treat.

You told Donnie what an amazing job he did, but it barely permeated the glowing coat of arms that had been bestowed upon him. He’d been plied with literal and metaphorical praise and you had a feeling today would go down as a memorable one in his mind. When you got to the stand, he hardly could order and you did so for him.

You then found a planter to sit on nearby and ate in relative silence. Donnie sipped his drink and stared out at the view of the line and city bustling around it. He cradled his cup with both hands as if it were something precious and you felt how monumental everything was for him. You rested your head against his shoulder and he breathed nothing but relaxation.

You lingered long into twilight before heading home. You animated as you got closer, talking about dinner plans and what the evening held. Donnie was quiet in contrast, but his buoyant spirit came through your ring. You had nothing to worry about as you got back home. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. opened the door for you on contact and you were wrangling out of your coat as you entered.

You turned to ask Donnie a question, but he was tucked into the door as he closed it.

You tilted your head at him as you hung your coat.

You asked if he was okay and reached for him.

He spun around faster than you could track and caught both your hands.

Words tumbled out of you apologizing, but still you felt nothing but joy from your bond. It was actually teetering toward a scorch and you searched Donnie’s darkened face. His eyes were hooded and he seemed to see only you.

You pressed his well being.

He released the crushing grip on your wrist.

You kept your hands up in the air.

He moved forward, gliding into your space.

His beak neared your nose and darted off to the side.

You mumbled his name and felt your body twist in offering to him.

He took it appreciatively and gave you one last darkened glance before he kissed you.

Your ring finger lit on contact.

It was then that you realized he’d been masking his intent.

His desire now boiled you alive both from the mysticism and from his kiss. He devoured your lips, moving in a dominating tandem that had you stumbling. He gave you no distance and matched every fumbling step you took. He then caught you, groping straight through your clothes to hit your weakest spots. He kneaded flesh and needed to be closer, but refused to remove the barrier.

It was as if there wasn’t enough time and you could only go pliable for him. He scorched pathways across your body. He turned you, his palms rough against the layers and rubbed you down as if there were no barrier at all. He then pushed, walking your feet forward, straight to the couch. There he caught your hip bones to bend you and your hands flew out.

As if his battle shell were engaged, he had more limbs then seemed possible and he led your elbows to catch the armrest. It was a preparation for him and you panted your willingness. He surely felt it, but you made a wiggle to kick him back and that he allowed. He got a front row seat then as you shifted your weight from one side to the other as you slid your feet apart.

He slammed himself against your back and, with lethal precision, his hand shoved straight down your pants. You groaned for him as he dipped into the musty trapped heat that had already cropped up there in the few pathetic minutes it had been since you started. This was how you reacted to him and he suddenly churred so deeply that it resonated into your core.

You could feel it on your tongue and he shoved his other hand up your throat to turn you to him. Then you tasted the sound as he filled both your upper and lower mouths. You moaned needy for him and, in a one handed shuffle where he refused to release your neck, he shimmied your pants down. With your spread they caught fast, but he refused to let you move. He only allowed them down enough that their hem dipped below your ass cheek.

His hand then disappeared and you heard his fly unzip. He squirmed again, rocking against your ass and pouring more of his weight on your spine. It tipped you to further present so by the time his pants were similarly barely down, his soaked cock emerged to slap your ass.

He whacked it once and twice to get into enough of a position before he slid the length long and blazing across your sex. He sat you on it, letting you encompass his heat with yours and you snapped your legs together, out of his hold, to engulf him. He rutted there, passing the mixing slicks until he growled to his own attention and used the hand on your throat to shove you forward.

You trilled excitement for him and he lined up in one expert pin pullback before he thrust straight and true. You would never get used to the filling brunt of him and each time was a delicious split. You whined your pleasure, but he shoved his fingers into your mouth to stop you. You had the wherewithal to suck and he gnashed his teeth for a wet snap. It was a noise that flickered a tiny amount of fear and he paired it with shoving the full length of his digit down your throat. You immediately choked on the distance and warnings compounded on your tongue before he languidly retracted his cock from you.

It was right when you thought you would gag that he adjusted his fingers to punch out your cheeks and slammed back into your cunt to set a brutal pace. You bit down on his fingers in a roll of your eyes and sort of registered how long it’d been since he was last this rough. There was something there, you thought, but you couldn’t parse out why while your womb was being compacted. The position sent him straight into your walls, but he kicked out further until you were perpendicular for him.

He chased you down there, unable to give up the animalistic rut and battered your ass with the bottom of his plastron. It cut what you assumed would be pretty red stripes now and purple bruise lines later. He tugged on your jaw so hard that drool dripped from the opening and cascaded down his arm. Bits of it dropped dark spots onto the couch and you drearily thought they were pretty.

His other hand had been acting as a safety belt suddenly moved enough so he could reach your joining. He pecked there, curious fingers that got caught in the plowing before he found your clit and gave it a similarly hard stroke. You squawked at the pain and he palmed you, picking up slick to try again without the agony. It thread the line of almost too much, but he seemed keen on getting you to orgasm as fast as possible.

You cried as he tried to tear it from you and you felt the noose wrap around his glans. The rope was pulled taut around the member to further trap him there. He snarled pleasure suddenly as if he forgot he had a mouth of his own and latched onto the side of your neck. His canines pricked you, but he didn’t commit to a full bite. Instead he sat there, locked on, and seemingly tasting every pound of your heartbeat.

His knot inflated in time and he couldn’t go for those long punishing strokes. He buried his cock instead, rolling his hips to make sure your pleasure index stayed high and you squeezed him tight to keep him in place. It was enough for him and he finally removed his hands from your mouth. You gasped immediately sucking greedily on oxygen and delirium like similar gas. It sent shockwaves down to your cunt where he rolled for his more learned stroking of your clit and you gave into a full body spasm as you came.

He couldn’t leave even that alone and chased you there too.

It came with a hydrant of cum that slammed into your reaches then flooded the space with as much of him as possible.

He whined a high pitched noise that stayed steady in the rhythmic release.

He then hunched, moving to grab your hips to make sure they were welded to his and seemingly gave up.

All of his body weight dropped on top of you and you had no hope of holding him up.

It took you both to your knees where his knot kept you locked beneath the bend of your bodies.

You were two animals joined and you weren’t going to be parted until you were good and fertilized.

“Please…”

His voice was so tiny that for a moment you didn’t register it as his own.

You groped uselessly at the floor and he only pulled you tighter to him.

It was like he feared the knot would let go even though it was firmly in place.

“Just once…” He pleaded.

You tried to make a noise, but your throat felt fucked out.

“Just let it take. Just this once… please…!” He begged whatever deity would listen before he collapsed onto his side.

You yelped as you went with him and you both panted there on the floor.

Side by side and in a gangle of limbs, you were the first to gain cohesion and did so with a dry chuckle.

He nosed your head affectionately before he seemed to remember what had occurred and shot up.

He’d been softening, but it pulled his cock from you and the leak poured a lava spill from your sex.

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I… I know exactly what came over me, but I…” He fussed and his gaze flew over you, trying to figure out what to tend to first.

“Baby fever…” You continued to bob with bits of laughter. “Silly.”

He brushed your cheek and probed a question through your wedding band of what he needed to do.

You turned your head in time with him and found a jellied arm to reach.

He helped get your hand to his face and nuzzled it. “My heart, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Let’s do it.”

He nodded and dipped down to pick you up.

“Donnie.”

He hummed a response and cradled you close before hoisting you into his arms.

“Donatello.”

“Yes?” He carried you toward the bedroom.

“Let’s do it.”

“I am.” He didn’t stop on his trek.

“No.” You waited to respond until you passed the threshold.

He switched you to one arm and swept the bed smooth to set you down.

He then appraised how you hadn’t physically fought him as opposed to your language which dictated disagreement

You felt him test your bond, curious, to see if you’d give anything away there.

You refused and smiled at him.

He watched for one second before he relented and knelt to listen to you.

You took his face and pretended to look him over.

He turned left and right for you before he returned with a softened twinkle in his eye that said even if he didn’t understand, he was happy to do whatever you wished.

You tucked your fingers behind the junction of his jaw and pulled him in.

He met you for a kiss and you allowed only one before you retreated enough to whisper against his lips.

“Let’s have a baby.”

💜NEXT💜

Same as it ever was? My betas are still stuck with me after all this time @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#softspotfic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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slakedbyiron · 10 months ago

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I'm drunk again but we'll take a crack at it. I couldn't find the post so here's the page again lets analyse

Okay no 1 Francisco and the dojo:

Izzy feels so bad that she can't do what seems to be a really tough spectral move (on the previous page only Spender who is described as Francisco's strongest student can do it properly) at only 6 YEARS OLD she starts crying - and Izzy isn't actually a part of this training session so it implies that even Francisco thinks this is too hard for her to do, and yet she still holds herself to the standard of an adult spectral because that's what Francisco has taught her

He holds her to an unattainably high standard and the one thing she is properly skilled at and proud of (her exceptional connection with spirits and her skills with tools) is belittled by him as weak and cheating. Francisco doesn't accept anything less than an automatic reaction to physical pain as a reason to cry - and even then he still ridicules her, saying "is that all?" as if a child wouldn't cry at being hurt.

He also calls her mother over to deal with her, even though she's a nurse she's incredibly busy and just about to leave for work he feels like it's her issue - presumably Amy feels secure working as much as she does because she believes that Izzy has a strong support system at the dojo, knowing how much she looks up to Francisco and how many people are around to protect her. on the next page he implies it should be her job to look after Izzy at the expense of her career because he's housing them both - despite the fact that her father still lives in town. similar to the way Isabel is treated by him, he holds Amy to a higher standard because Ángel has disappointed him, as if it has anything to do with her.

Despite the fact that Spender is the only person on this page who doesn't actually live in the dojo he's the only one who goes to see if Izzy is alright - the rest spend way more time with Izzy yet seem awkward to borderline disinterested in her pain in the 4th panel - I know she's a young kid but they should have a stronger connection with her. This could be related to how she's literally pitted against adults in the present, whereas in the past it's slightly more theoretical/in her head

That leads us to no 2 Spender and Izzy's relationship:

The penultimate panel I feel shows how close she and Spender are. It implies that he picks her up a lot because she instinctively knows what he's doing even though he turns around without saying anything. In addition the fact that he picks her up presumably also because she says she hurt her foot, so she doesn't have to walk on it - even though banging your foot wouldn't really impede your walking

Also, Spender doesn't even notice how Francisco is treating Izzy this whole page, because he's too wrapped up in seeing if she's okay (the final panel shows he still has his hero worship of Francisco which I'd hope he wouldn't if he realised how terrible he treats her) this is something he still does in the present day but it hinders Izzy because he focuses on "keeping the kids safe" rather than emotionally secure and regulated. It also very literally happens again in chapter 4 when he's worrying with Lucifer about whether he kept the kids safe properly and misses Izzy asking for his help dealing with Francisco.

finally no 3 more on Isabel:

She's too young to have as strong a handle on her emotions as present-day Isabel (read: emotional repression) but she still thinks that this is a weakness to have a completely normal reaction that all kids that young would have to frustration. Isabel is only 6 years old and she's already internalised that emotional pain is insignificant and weak, and that the only 'valid' pain is physical, as shown by her lie. despite this she's still invalidated because the pain wasn't bad enough. Also her kneejerk lying about pain is a trait commonly seen in abused children.

This can be seen to have both the aforementioned emotional implications in current Izzy, as well as physical - she attempts to use plasters to cover a wound that actually needs stitches because she doesn't want her grandfather to know and be disappointed, risking an infection.

I realise half of these are just statements w no conclusions but I hope you can infer what I mean. anyway concluding statement no one looks out for Izzy like they should and also her and Spender's relationship and all of its shortcomings is one of my fav things abt pnat both bc there's so much meat there and bc they're my 2 fav characters

#paranatural #going to drunk bingo I don't normally start drinking at 6pm

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makeste · 1 year ago

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BnHA Chapter 403: (But Just That One Part, Because I'm Not Caught Up)

Previously on BnHA: Truly no idea, but it kind of looks like Katsuki is riding some sort of spaceship, and everyone has gotten really, really sparkly. I see you all have been busy these past 22 months. Great job, keep it up.

Today on BnHA: “So it’s come to my attention that a truly shocking number of you are only reading this manga for a single character.” – Horikoshi Kouhei, October 2023.

so. where to start, lol

I guess I should open with an apology, because I am about to make a fairly selfish decision! what I am about to do, is post a reaction to Bakugou’s Return To The Manga. however, because I’m not caught up, I’m going to be reading this one scene completely out of context without knowing anything about what is going on. which means that I’m going to be missing out on god knows how many nuances and details, which means this reaction post will be short on those things as well. so basically I’m prioritizing my own personal gratification as a fan here even though it is 100% going to affect the quality of my reaction blog, and for that I genuinely am sorry. eventually I will finish catching up, and when that happens I will post a proper reaction with all the trimmings. that’s just how it is for now though

anyway so with that said, basically what I’ve done now is I have gone to the scanlation website, and clicked on chapter 403, and then scrolled down through most of the chapter while sort of half-looking away from my screen with my eyes squinted so that everything is mostly blurry, until I finally reached the big double-page spread with you-know-who doing his thing. namely, standing around on this giant glowy cereal bowl from the future, which appears to be either hovering up in the air, or slowly crashing onto the ground

and this right here, is exactly what I was rambling on about a moment ago. you guys I really am sorry to be doing this, because even I can tell this should be solemn and sincere moment of awe and excitement and relief. but because I completely lack any context whatsoever for wtf is happening, most of the dramatic impact is lost on me, and to tell the truth right now this page is a hell of a lot funnier than it has any right to be

like, so Deku. this boy is crying all the tears. I recklessly scrolled back up one page to see why, and it appears the answer is Because All Might Is About To Fucking Die (which, !??!?), so that’s actually VERY fucked up, and I’m sure I will have PAGES AND PAGES OF WORDS to say about all of that once I finally catch up properly. that is very traumatic and emotional and I will probably cry a lot about it

BUT, that being said, I just need you guys to know that without that context, Deku standing here with his giant head all >:O in the foreground, while Kacchan appears out of nowhere glowing with the power of a thousand suns and standing on top of this giant floating Smash Bros level that Nezu maybe probably built with his nine million dollars, is one of the wildest fucking things I’ve seen in my life. I feel like an accidental time traveler. you know when a character has one of those crazy prophetic dreams showing them chaotic glimpses of the future, and they’re just standing there all “???” because they have absolutely no clue what the fuck is going on? that is what it’s like right now

heh but there he is

“did you miss me, Izuku. back by popular demand after being on IR for 14 goddamn months. rebuilt better and stronger than ever thanks to the heroic spaghetti man wrapped tightly around my heart keeping me alive. just BnHA things. just a flesh wound. by the way, it’s me, Kacchan, just in case you didn’t recognize me on account of my still being really far away and completely covered by smoke, and also you thinking I was dead. here let me give you a close up to make this easier”

“fuck yeah. it really is me, btw. just in case you still couldn’t tell on account of me also being like 100x prettier than you remembered. guess it’s just that blindingly handsome character development”

also, “the end of an era” um hello, yes, what?? just what exactly have I missed here with all this All Might stuff?? because apparently All Might just prior to this was in some sort of mortal danger, is what I’ve been hearing, because everyone keeps posting excitedly about Kacchan showing up in the nick of time to save him? which incidentally makes my heart so incredibly fucking warm omg. it’s what both of them need AND deserve

why is everything so goddamn sparkly right now. this is like a Sailor Moon battle over here

love that look of instant recognition and shock and overpowering relief in Deku’s eyes though. also has he really been fighting in this cracked out OFA-overflowing mode this entire time?? he looks just like he did on the cover of volume 37. I still haven’t seen his actual canon reaction to the “death”, and I haven’t been keeping tabs on his fight with AFO??/Tomura?? at all, but I’m glad it looks to have been as emotional as I could have hoped

aw fuck yeah

his precious card. I’m now almost as invested in the saga of the All Might card as I am in all the rest of this. it’s all beat to hell, but somehow still made it through in the end. just like him

oh. my. g

protect them.

protect them all.

so is the reason this fight is so sparkly just because of OFA symbolism, then?? or is there something else happening here?? goddammit, okay, I‘m gonna very carefully scroll back to the beginning of the chapter, because I’m 100% positive there is some sort of deeply meaningful symbolic thing going on here and I’ll be damned if I miss out on it, spoilers or no

-- oh my goD??!

1. BABY ALL MIGHT WHAAAAAAT

IS THAT HIS MOM???? OH MY GOD DID WE GET ALL MIGHT BACKSTORY. oh my god. oh god. no actually don’t tell me, ahhhh I cannot fucking wait to read this properly, holy shit

so did something wind up happening to Mighty Mom later on then?? feels like it must have, since he wound up getting so attached to Nana? man I don’t want to think about any of that stuff after seeing this panel though :( just, damn it, why is this man’s whole entire life so goddamn fucking tragic

“the one thing I’ve done most is looking back to the path I took” my god I cannot wait to read this. only two short pages and I’m already buried miles deep into my All Might feels. came here for the triumphant Kacchan return and now I’m sitting here tearing up about All Might, god damn you Horikoshi YOU’VE STILL GOT IT. and I am STILL A SUCKER FOR ALL OF IT

anyway, so now back we go to the last couple of pages with this additional context, aaaaand...

...and apparently I’m now full-on crying about All Might! (: well how about that. turns out when you read the manual and follow the instructions properly this series still works exactly as advertised. don’t mind me I’m just sitting here sobbing because everything is exactly what I wanted and I apparently don’t know how to deal with that!!

THEIR FEELINGS BECOME WHAT?!?!?!

EVERYTHING IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED AND I’M GONNA BE A MESS ABOUT IT FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME BECAUSE LIFE IS GRAND!!

ARE ALL OF THESE WATERY SPARKLES LIKE. DEKU’S FUCKING TEARS LMAO OR WHAT. HOW IS KACCHAN IN THE SPLASH ZONE. HOW ARE HIS TEARS HOLDING UP THE SPACESHIP. I DON’T UNDERSTAND A GODDAMN THING BUT THIS IS NOW OFFICIALLY A SHOUJOU MANGA, I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

the urge to ruffle baby Deku and baby Kacchan’s hair is so goddamn powerful you don’t understand. this is PRIMAL. they are SO happy and SO good and perfect. I’m gonna fucking die

there’s not even any dialogue. what the fuck are they even gonna say. their expressions say it all and more. also they are being kind to me because they know I’m not caught up so they don’t want to spoil me any further, thank you my sons

lastly, I guess, because I don’t really have anything else to add now that my brain has fully turned to sappy mush: so uh. I truly have not the slightest clue how or why, but. does Kacchan have OFA though. and why is the answer, “yes he definitely does.” ???

like, I don’t understand it, but I confess that by now I have spoiled myself on the last few pages of chapter 362 for reasons (those reasons being “I finally gave in and looked at them on purpose, because I’d already seen most of them out of context here and there, and my willpower is only so strong”), and so I know that this boy was talking to vestige!Might, and as far as I’m aware that is 100% not possible unless he has some sort of connection to OFA in some way so yeah

and now here he on this last page being all Profoundly Connected with Deku while they gaze into each other’s eyes, and I can’t help but notice that said eyes are all explodey and they look a LOT like Deku’s actually. and on top of that we have all of this All Might symbolism that I’m still crying about, so like? ???

anyway so I’m not going crazy here right? like this is definitely a thing? for whatever reason?? unless you guys know something here that I don’t. in which case I actually am asking to be spoiled fully just this once, because at this point I just need to know one way or the other and I don’t care lol

anyway so that concludes my thoughts I guess! so now my absurdly ambitious goal is to speed read the manga this next week and hopefully at least catch up to Kacchan’s “death”, so that I can better understand what’s happening when I inevitably wind up spoiling myself for chapter 404 as well. the plan right now is to still type up my liveblog notes as I go, but to not worry about posting or editing anything in between chapters. so I’ll have a big backlog of chapter recaps which I’ll eventually get to uploading whenever I can, but in the meantime I can participate more in the fandom side of things. since I really want to share all of my endgame theories and so forth, but in order to do that I really need to find out just what the fuck is actually going on lol, so yeah

#bnha 403 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #all might #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I see your bakugou katsuki: rising #and raise you one bakugou katsuki: risen #he comes back to us now at the turn of the tide

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internet1girl · 1 month ago

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Chapter 3: More Than Meets the Eye.

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Fem!Reader

Summary: There are so many more layers to John Carlton than he lets on, are you prepared to catch a glimpse of some of them?

Word count: 13k

Warnings/Notices: major angst, mentions of cancer, mentions of child abuse, named!reader, reader wields a bō staff, reader is rude and mean, johnny being annoying, flirty johnny, sexually suggestive, violence, gore depicted, a few curse words here and there

First Chapter / Previous part / Next part

A/N: for a bunch of text already written out, these take surprisingly long to convert into fanfiction 🤨 (that and i’m just lazy)

Johnny caught up to you, his steps quickened slightly to take a place by your side. He didn't say anything immediately, instead he looked at you for a moment, concern written on his face as he observed your sudden serious demeanour.

"What was that about?"

"Hm? What was what about?" You were now acting like your little heart-to-heart never happened, like you hadn’t even stopped off for a rest in the first place. Your pace was brisk, your steps were fast as you now try hard to not think about memories that should stay buried.

Johnny stopped you in your tracks, spinning you around by your shoulders to face him. He wasn't having it. The way you did a complete 180 with your emotions made him even more suspicious about what was bothering you.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." His usual mocking cockiness nowhere to be seen. He actually sounded somewhat serious - which was new, weird. He was looking at you with a stern and questioning look, not willing to just drop the subject.

You both didn't appreciate Johnny's prying nor did you appreciate being halted like this. No sooner than did he stop you, your hands come up and shove him away, a little more rough than you intended to.

He stumbled backwards. You’d caught him off guard but he quickly steadied himself, straightening up again. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression now frustrated and annoyed as he stared down at you.

Realising what you just did, you compose yourself, taking in a deep breath and dissipating the red mist from your mind.

"That was...nothing. I just don't think we should stay in the same place for too long. It's not safe.”

Johnny huffed in annoyance, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you were avoiding his question. He really didn't like how you were acting right now, he saw clear as day how you buried your feelings by acting overly cold and hostile. It was only making him even more concerned.

"It was not nothing."

"Yes, it was. We've taken all the rest we need. We're on a mission, we need to progress.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and groaned again. His annoyance with you grew as you continue to dodge his questions. He was really started to get frustrated by your insipid avoidance. Why were you being so stubborn?

"For crying out loud! I’m just asking you a damn question! Something's bothering you, l just want to know what it is. That's all I'm asking."

He took a step closer, his form starting to tower over you.

You were, admittedly, a little taken aback by Johnny's little outburst. His usual smirk being replaced by a scowl, coupled with him stepping closer to you as he spoke, sent a pang of something through your heart. Not quite fear, but you were uneasy.

Realising this made you mad. ”How dare he try to intimidate me?!” In turn, you stood your ground. You too take a step closer to him, your hands slightly clenching into fists.

"It's none of your business, Cage. I don't have to tell you about every fucking thing that's on my mind."

You shine your flashlight in his face and look him dead in the eye, the anger within you starting to take control. His face screwed at the sudden increase of brightness, his eyes squinted near shut as he brought up a hand to shield his vision from the beam.

"We are on a mission. This isn't the time for a cushy little heart-to-heart. Cut the shit and focus on the task at hand.”

A curse slipped past his lips, his frustration starting to boil over into anger. Johnny pushed your flashlight out of his face and leaned back to look at you with a glare equally as dark as yours.

"Damn it, Jade! You are so goddamn insufferable, you know that?" A shard of concern was buried within his tone, but the frustration present was overpowering, consuming, too thick to let up.

"Yeah, we're on a mission. But why the hell do you have to be so damn cold?"

"Why do you have to be so damn annoying?” You spat back, pushing a finger into his chest. “You're a grown man, act like it!"

"Hey! I am acting like a grown-up.”

Johnny was really starting to get mad now. The small snarl on his face grew, lips parting to bare his gritted teeth. His eyes were ablaze, it was getting harder and harder for him to control himself. He was looking down at you, the sight of your equally angry expression made him tighten his grip on his own flashlight, his knuckles nearly turning white.

“You're just acting like you've got a fuckin’ stick up your ass."

Johnny took another step towards you, only a couple of inches of space now separating your bodies. His jaw was clenched tight, his brown eyes dark with anger.

You sighed. Realising what you were doing, you take a step back and put some distance between yourself and him. This was absolutely not the time to do this.

You shut your eyes and pinch your temples, trying your hardest to not snap and get into a full screaming match with this man. Taking a deep breath in, you made sure that you were thinking clearly, and your rage is at least somewhat contained before speaking to Johnny next.

"I'm not doing this with you. To get into a full blown screaming match in the middle of one of the most dangerous places in the region would be suicide. I refuse to be found and captured by Shao's men because you can't contain your emotions. We are on a mission for Liu Kang and that should be our top priority right now, not this petty argument."

You walk forward, past a Johnny who was now coming to terms with his fuck-up. Giving him a glare that showed exactly how you were feeling at the moment, you stop for a second - right by his side - to tell him something.

“You’re pathetic.” You put emphasis on the word, something that was entirely intentional. “Start acting your age.”

Johnny opened his mouth for a moment, as if to speak. But the way you looked at him, your eyes so dark, made him reconsider saying anything at all. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his gaze shamefully dropping to the floor, he began to realise how childish he was acting. Your words sunk in deep, and he knew that you were right.

"Yeah... yeah, ok. Fine."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You and Johnny spend the rest of the afternoon sneaking through the pyramid. Besides only speaking to each other out of necessity, not a word was uttered between the two of you. You were still pissed that he overstepped his boundaries like that, trying to force you to open up and share your problems with him, like he was some sort of therapist. To you, it didn’t matter that he doesn’t know about your family and how it’s such a sore spot for you, he should have just…minded his business.

Speaking of, the memories that you still had of them were now subsequently running through your mind, something that made you silently fight back tears as you walked.

On the other side, Johnny was coming to terms about haw much of a dick he acted like, he was silent out of embarrassment. He was really making progress in getting you to open up, he felt guilty that he more or less reversed it all.

By now, he had put two and two together. He figured that something must've happened with you in your past, that's why you’re acting colder than usual. He came to terms with how aggressively demanding you to open up would, in-fact, result in the opposite of his desired outcome. He stayed silent as he walked, trying to cope with the fact that he let his emotions get the better of him.

Johnny's guilt only rose as time went on. He was mentally berating himself for acting so childishly and arguing with you like that when it really wasn't necessary. He was actually making some progress with you, melting the ice of your demeanour, and now he felt like he had ruined any chance of you actually opening up to him.

He knew he had messed up. He was also aware that he had unknowingly opened up one very sensitive area of your life. It was now even more obvious to him that something from your past was bothering you. He honestly wasn't really sure how to even start to try and fix the situation. His usual jokes and quips weren't suitable for this situation at all.

He would glance over at you from time to time, his expression slightly regretful as he took notice of that saddened look on your face. That frown really didn’t suit you, such an unwarranted blemish on your beautiful visage… it wasn’t right.

Unbeknownst to you, family was also somewhat of a sore spot for Johnny. There's a reason why he was never that open about his own family to the press and his fans. But… that’s not for you to know yet.

Still ever so careful as to not alert anymore of Shao's men, the two of you clung to the shadows. You both have made progress, you were now closer to the innermost chamber than this morning.

Both of your negative moods affected you two in ways that were more than just anger and sadness. It made you both a bit sloppy, careless. You weren't so focused on being quiet and sticking to the shadows, more so on just getting to the centre of the pyramid as soon as possible, so you could just leave this godforsaken place.

So it wasn't a welcome surprise to either you nor Johnny when you both turned a corner and ran smack dab into a patrol of two of Shao's men.

Ah shit. The second Johnny saw the patrol, a look of complete dread completely overtook him. Thinking quickly, he grabbed your wrist and backed away, his eyes never leaving the patrol and he pulled you back and around the corner.

"Shit! We got company!" He whisper-shouted.

"Do you think they've seen us?!” You return his frantic energy, whisper-shouting back. The adrenaline that was now coursing through your body had completely overrode your sour mood from before. Fuck your feelings, this was the present. You were now on edge, hyper-aware of her surroundings.

Maybe they didn’t see you? Yeah! Maybe they were talking to each other or something, too wrapped up in their hypothetical conversation to notice the two of you. Maybe it was dark enough that both of you weren’t even noticeable. It’ll all be fine, you haven’t been spotted…right?

Unfortunately for you both, luck wasn’t on your side this time. Your presence was indeed noticed, your bright flashlights ripping through the darkness were just impossible not to miss. The feeling of dread was like a knife to your heart as you heard them both shout and rapidly mobilise. The sound of the boots stomping on the ground came closer with every step as they closed in on you both.

Johnny's heart raced faster and faster at the sound of the rapid footsteps, they were only getting closer and closer. He was trapped in a tight, narrow hallway with a team of well trained, heavily armed soldiers on their way to kill both him and you.

"Ah shit..." He muttered, his voice low and shaky. He gripped his hands into fists, his adrenaline rising as he readied himself to face the soldiers head on.

There was no getting out of this. A fight was imminent.

The men rounded the corner, drawing their weapons and taking on a fighting stance at the sight of you both. In response, you deploy your bō staff from your hip, fully extending it out and readying yourself. Johnny balled up his fist and took on a fighting stance, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked the soldiers up and down.

"Are you ready for this, Cage?" You ask, not daring to take your eyes off of the soldiers adjacent. The faint light of your staff dimly lit up the area surrounding the four of you, casting a green glow on all of your respective armour.

Johnny nodded quickly, his eyes too glued on the men across from him. All of his senses were on high alert. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he could feel his blood pumping in his ears. He was ready for a fight, he needed something to channel his frustrations into after the argument he had with you.

"Yeah. I'm ready. Let's get 'em.”

The clash was an intense one. You and Johnny fought with the pair of Shao's men, the skirmish entirely confined to the narrow passageway you were all in. The small space echoed with sharp clangs of metal and loud strikes of energy as precise hits and rapid punches flew. Green light rapidly darted across the passageway walls as you swung your staff around, evading and executing strikes.

At one point, the two of you were back-to-back, covering each other. Your backs pressed into the other’s as you both fought your respective soldier. It helped that the hallway was so narrow that the two men could only attack one at a time.

Thankfully, you both managed to prevail. In the end, your combined effort managed to best and overpower the two soldiers. Their bodies slumped down onto the floor with a loud thud, both of them unresponsive and bloodied.

You and Johnny were now catching your breath. Your previously clean uniform was now littered with splatters of blood, an unwelcome realisation that dawned upon you as you dusted herself off. You winced ever so slightly as your fingers would feel the smooth warmth of the liquid in contrast to the hard metal of your breastplate.

Johnny, meanwhile, seemingly wasn't bothered that his already bloodied uniform had more red on it. He even looked a little proud of himself as he wiped his hands down his sides, taking in the sight of his swelling knuckles with a grin on his face. He stood there, his breathing quickened as he bounced around on his feet a little, endorphins flowing through his veins. That felt good, that was fun!

He looked up, his vision settling on you trying to clean off the blood that had stained your hair and uniform. He found himself growing slightly distracted by the view before him, a smirk forming on his lips. The sight of you all disheveled like this made his cock swell ever so slightly, you were somehow even more hot when your decorum was undone.

“We showed them, didn't we?"

"Yeah…we did..." Your answer came out between breaths, your body was still in the process of recovering after the harsh switch from inactivity to hyperactivity.

Your audience was still staring at you, taking in the way how your chest rose and fell with each breath, his eyes darting to the splatters of blood that covered you as well as some other places. His smile didn’t falter, it was actually kind of hot to see you in kombat.

As his gaze stayed on you, something within reminded him of that squabble a few hours ago. He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered how much of a prick he was towards you, especially when you didn't deserve it. The way he demanded that you open up to him about what's on your mind made him retrospectively cringe a little.

An apology was in order, and Johnny realised this.

"Hey...listen, I wanna apologise. I was...kind of a dick back there, uh- a few hours ago.”

His apology admittedly caught you off guard a little. Not that it wasn't welcome, it was just unexpected. You look up at him, reading his facial expression. The fact that he was completely genuine, his face devoid of his signature smirk, honestly surprised you a little. To be honest, this wasn't exactly the right place or time, but you knew that it would be better for everyone if you both just got past this.

'...l accept your apology."

"Ah, good... um…”

He took in a deep breath, a wave of relief washing over him at the sound of your response. He was honestly expecting you to be just as harsh with him as you always were, but he didn't get that. Your verbal conformation lifted the accumulating weight off of his shoulders. He visibly relaxed a little, glad that you were willing to move past it.

Johnny scratched the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face. Now, he just felt awkward. What the hell was he supposed to say next?

Seeing him stand awkwardly stand there was actually kind of amusing. For you, at least. The way he rubbed the back of his head and shifted around on his feet a little made a small smile bloom on your face. He looked cute, near adorable, in your eyes. You couldn't help but stifle a little laugh.

He's not so bad when he's not opening his mouth.

"You're alright, Cage. It's water under the bridge."

He caught sight of the your smile and your stifled laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched your expression carefully. His heart felt like it skipped a beat once he heard your words. You weren’t upset anymore, and that was great! His thoughts, however, were consumed by how that smile looked so damn good on you.

"Water under the bridge, huh? I guess that means you're not gonna keep being a pain in the ass?" He smiled too, his lips curling upwards as he took a step closer.

This made you roll your eyes. Looks like Johnny's now back to getting on your nerves every few minutes. Yay(!)

Oh well, at least there wasn't this thick tension between the two of you anymore.

You don’t even say anything in response, only groaning and walking past him in order to go further into the pyramid. You were still on a mission, after all.

You were so quick that you didn’t even notice how Johnny’s smile turned into a sly smirk, nor did you notice the way his eyes took advantage of your temporary proximity to rake themselves all over your form. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head a little. Best believe he’s going to relish in all the upcoming chances to pester you, now that the tension between you both was gone. There was something addicting about the way that your face scrunches up when he successfully says something stupid.

"Hey, wait up, princess!" He called out, jogging after you to catch up.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was now night. Day was over and now, there was nothing but darkness surrounding the pyramid.

The precise hour was unknown to you both, yet the conspicuous absence of activity among the platoons of Shao's men, as well as the fact that the inside of the pyramid was somehow even darker, signalled that the day had commenced.

You and Johnny were now exhausted. Sneaking around a massive ancient structure with minimal food and water left of your bodies riddled with fatigue. What you could probably - no, definitely - use is a good night's sleep. How lucky that the both of you just happened to stumble upon an encampment that a few of Shao's men were currently occupying.

After they were dealt with, the two of you began to settle in for the night. You used what you could find around the area as makeshift beds, an ordeal that fondly reminded Johnny of all the camping he did as a kid, something that he was all too happy to yap to you about. Not that you were really listening…

Unfortunately, you both had to turn off your flashlights for the night, in order to conserve battery life. However, you did find a candle amongst one of the men's belongings. Lighting it pierced through the darkness around, creating a circle of light and warmth to rest in.

Johnny found himself lying on the floor, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling above. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but what other choice did he have? Not that he really cared, though. No, something else had captured the majority of his attention.

His eyes darted to the side to glance over at you, right across from him. He was watching your lovely self wordlessly. Certain parts of your form had his tongue instinctively dart out to moisten his dry lips.

In contrast, you weren’t laying down but you were instead sat up. Your legs were crossed and your gaze was lowered to the floor, you were lost in your own thoughts. Your hands were twitching a little as the events of today were replaying in your mind.

You missed everyone back in Sun Do, wanting nothing more than to get out of this dark pyramid and flee to safety, as well as a proper bed and a long, long shower. You allowed yourself to once again wish that Liu Kang had chosen someone else for this mission, better they meet a grim fate than you.

Your longing was interrupted when you recalled something that Johnny said earlier.

How it would be faster if the two of you just "kicked some ass" and fought your way through to the innermost chamber, sticking to the shadows be damned.

"Don't you just want to let loose a little and be a bit reckless for once?" That was part of what you remembered him saying.

It made you laugh, honest to the Gods. Your lips curled upwards and your hand raised to cover your growing smile as you started chuckling. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't wrong.

Your audience was surprised, to say the least, when he heard the unexpected sound of you laughing. Johnny lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. A small smile of his own graced his lips. To see you laughing - hell, to see you show any emotion that wasn’t anger - it was weird. He never thought he’d see the day.

His eyes were now fixed on you. He couldn't help but think that you looked even prettier when you were smiling. The sight alone was enough to make his blood start to pump a little faster.

"What're you laughing about?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You replied between laughs, calming yourself when you saw Johnny looking at you. Telling him what you were actually laughing about was out of the question. The man's head might explode from the ego boost.

His smile widened in reaction. He didn't believe you at all. You, chuckling like this over nothing? Pfft. Don’t play in his face.

"You're not laughing about nothin'. C'mon, don't hold out on me." He sat up further, propping himself up on his hands. His smile deepened as he got to see yours unobscured.

You sighed, knowing that Johnny wouldn't stop prying until he received the truth. You’d rather not repeat a squabble like they had this afternoon.

"Something you said, earlier today. About how we should ‘kick ass’ through this pyramid instead of sneaking around. It was amusing." Your eyes narrowed, you took on a much more snarky tone before speaking next.

"I just didn't want to tell you because your ego is already far too high."

Johnny's smile widened into a cheeky grin upon your answer. That signature arrogance of his returned, just like that. That little jab at him about his ego amused him, and made his chest puff up slightly. He shifted around and crossed his legs, taking a moment to laugh before responding.

"Eh, you can insult me all you want, but I’m just bein' logical. We can't keep sneaking around and hiding. Fightin' always got the job done, especially for me."

His words held some truth to them, and you knew it. Sneaking around was good and all, but it was increasing the mission duration. If you both had done what Johnny wanted all along, you’d probably be in the carriage back to Sun Do by now.

Realising this just pissed you off. Turns out the most annoying man you know is actually not that stupid. Still, you stuck to your guns, your stubbornness unwavering.

"We can't. We don't know how many men there are in this pyramid. It's too risky."

"Oh, come on! We've handled a bunch of Shao's guys today. We can take 'em. It'd be so much easier just to punch a few things and take what we need instead of skulking around here."

"Hm." You take your eyes off of Johnny and look down to the ground. You were actually contemplating what he was saying, how ‘bout that? Maybe if you both did indeed battle your way through the pyramid, and if you were careful about it, you two could finally obtain this stone and bring it to Liu Kang. Just maybe...

A yawn broke through the silence. Your mouth stretched open, fatigue starting to overtake your being. You were so tired, all of this thinking could wait until tomorrow. You need to rest, to recharge your body.

"...I'm going to sleep." You inform Johnny, laying your weary body down on your makeshift bed as you shuffle around in an effort to get comfortable.

Johnny, of course, was watching you intently. That exhausted and fatigued look on you was admittedly something else. It weirdly made you sexier in his eyes, there was something about the way you rubbed your face in an effort to stay awake that had him fixated.

"You sure you can sleep? You seem pretty...tense. Maybe I should give you a massage? You seem like you'd be pretty responsive, darlin’.” A sly smirk found its way on his face at the poorly veiled excuse to get his hands on you.

“That’s not happening.”

Johnny let out a laugh in response. You quickly shutting down his idea like that just made him smirk grow, his expression becoming smugger.

"Aw, c'mon! It'll help you relax and fall asleep. You've been so upset all day, princess. You really think that’s a good way to end the day?" He spoke in a mock-innocence tone, his eyes still stuck on you.

"Goodnight, Cage." You shut him down again, not even bothering to sit back up.

You were way too tired to put up with his insistent flirting, the need for sleep had basically overtaken you by now.

“Hah, Alright alright..."

Johnny laid his body down fully, getting comfortable on his makeshift bed. Well, he tried to. He did wince a little as he shifted around, this wasn't exactly the best or the most comfortable spot to rest on. But, it was the only one available. What else could he do?

Not long after, you passed out. You slipped from consciousness, all your thoughts and worries from today were temporarily eased. Johnny soon followed, succumbing to his own fatigue. Your bodies lie unmoving and unresponsive on the hard floor, save for your chests slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath escaping the both of you.

As Johnny fell asleep, his head was filled with a multitude of thoughts and scenarios. One of the constant ones, though, was the image of a certain beautiful woman with beautiful long hair being very responsive to his hands being on her. A small, far from innocent smile was on his face as he settled deeper into his sleep, the image of you was still fresh in his mind.

If you were awake, you would see a bulge in the crotch of his uniform.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's now the afternoon. The night came and went with no hitches and it's once again bright outside, the sun’s rays trickling down onto the world. Not that any of this showed inside of the pyramid, though.

You and Johnny had long since been up, you both have now made significant progress in your advance through the pyramid. The both of you had actually reached the innermost chamber, after all this time. The two were now perched on a ledge, right above the large open space. There, the ground below could be freely observed.

The sheer number of Shao's soldiers below took you back a little. But, that feeling was nothing compared to when you finally laid your eyes on the contraption right in the centre of the chamber that the men were guarding.

A machine about the size of a truck stood, a circular platform built out of some kind of dark brick was its base. A giant vat of some type of green gas sat in the middle of this platform, emanating upwards and out of the pyramid. Upon further assessment, you were shocked to realise that all of that gas were… souls! Some sort of powerful magic had been cast, and souls were the fuel for it. They were fuelling this whole machine.

Moving downwards, the base of the machine had a circular indentation in the middle of it. A large gemstone, about the size of a fist and absolutely rife with magical energy, was housed right in the indentation. This was the stone that was depicted in the notes you had found yesterday, it looked to be powering the whole thing.

You were, admittedly, at a loss on what to do. There were way too many soldiers down there to successfully obtain the gemstone without being spotted. However, you were vastly outnumbered. To fight would seemingly be certain death. But you needed that gemstone, you can't just return back to Liu Kang empty handed. What were you to do?

“Do you see all of the men down there?" You turn to Johnny, your voice was thick with anxiety and your eyes had a sliver of fear between them.

“Yeah…” His eyes were scanning the chamber below, taking note of all the guards that were stationed there. He shared your concern, that light-hearted jovial demeanour of his was completely absent. His attention was pried off of the sight below when you tapped on his shoulder.

“That green gas, in the machine, I know what that is. It's soul magic. It fits the description of what the books back in the palace library depict. This is a massive amount of magic that's currently active, and souls are being used to fuel it all.”

Johnny was watching you intently as you rambled on. His eyes never dared to leave your face. You had a certain intensity whenever you locked in like this, and he really couldn’t deny that he found it hot when you became so passionate about something. He didn’t say anything about this, though. This was one of the rare times he chose to keep his mouth shut, the situation was that serious.

"And that's not all. See the big gemstone in the middle?" You carry on, extending your arm out to point to the gemstone at the base of the machine. "It's exactly what was described in the notes I found yesterday. It's powering the whole thing. If we can manage to retrieve it, the whole machine should cease functioning."

You paused for a bit, pondering on what to do next. Just how will you manage to obtain the gemstone undetected? Try as you might, you couldn't think of an answer.

"But how would we go about retrieving it..?"

“And that's where I come in.”

The sound of his voice cuts through your thoughts, interrupting your speculation. You turn to face Johnny, he has a mischievous smirk plastered over his face that makes your brows furrow slightly.

”I know just what to do."

"Hm? You do?"

"Why, of course I do. I have a great idea." He raised an eyebrow at you, amused by the doubt you had in him. “You're probably not gonna like it, though.”

"...Go on." You were genuinely curious on what his idea was. Any idea is better than no idea, you figured.

Johnny chuckled a little. He was actually surprised that you weren’t being as dismissive as you normally were. "You know, for someone who usually hates all of my ideas, you actually sound like you're willing to hear this one-.”

"Just spit it out, Cage."

Your impatience did nothing in making his sly smirk falter - quite the opposite, in fact. He was almost gleeful, letting out a laugh as he had to physically resist the urge to tease you for your restlessness. Nevertheless, he still carried on.

“Alright, so, you and I both know that we can't just sneak past all of them on the ground level. So... we're going to go right through them."

Right through them? Is he serious? "Right… through them? All of them?"

Your stunned expression was absolutely priceless in Johnny’s eyes, he couldn’t help but let out another small laugh at the sight. The disbelief on your face was almost funnier than your usual annoyed or angry expressions.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn't like it! And yes, princess, I mean all of them."

"Give me two good reasons why we should risk our lives like that." Skeptical would be a good word to describe how you were feeling right now. Your arms were crossed as you stared him down, awaiting an answer.

Johnny's eyes went wide for a split second, before he composed himself. He actually didn't expect you to be interested what he had to suggest, this was such a welcome surprise. The most smug of smug smiles graced his features before he spoke next.

"Well, reason number one - sneaking around isn't gonna work. They have too many people on the ground level. It'd be impossible to find a way to sneak past all of them without being spotted, especially the way the chamber's so wide open."

He was actually serious about this, thoroughly taking his time as he tried to convince you of his master plan.

"And reason number two - you saw how l handled those men yesterday when we first got here. Three versus one and I still came out on top. They're nothing! With the two of us, all those people down there wouldn't stand a chance."

You were silent for a few moments, no snarky or rude remark was to be found. You were genuinely thinking about Johnny's plan to just fight them all, how ‘bout that? Your gaze was on the floor and your chin was resting in your hand, you were deep in thought about what to do next.

And that's when you remembered what he told you, yesterday whilst the two of you were resting. How it would be faster if you both “kicked some ass" or something…

You couldn't believe how that won you over to his insane plan, much less how his plan won you over at all.

“Fine. You've convinced me." You sigh before you turn to face Johnny, a look of defeat gracing your features. It wasn’t that he had come up with an actually decent idea, it was the fact that you knew he wouldn’t shut up about this that had you mildly irked.

A large, toothy smile bloomed on his jaw, in contrast to your indifferent expression. The fact that you were actually going along with his plan, the fact that you actually listened to him, was damn near unbelievable. He stood up, his full height towering over you as he held his hand out for you to take.

"Alright, let's do this!"

You took his hand, allowing him to hoist you up. Now that you were up on your own two feet, you took some time to mentally preparing yourself for the imminent battle.

You took out your bō staff, taking a moment to appreciate its beautiful green glow. Your intent was simple, you were to throw your weapon at one of the guards down below, knocking out one of your opponents and effectively starting the fight. Two birds, one stone.

And that's exactly what you did.

The way your staff connected with one of the guard’s heads, knocking that fucker clean off of his feet, it made Johnny wish that he was recording beforehand. He had to stop himself from loudly cheering like a sports fan when he saw how he practically toppled over

The atmosphere became thick with anticipation as the other guards were all alerted of you and your companion’s presence. As soon as they saw one of their brethren being struck down by your staff, they started to mobilise.

Shouts flew through the air, grips on weapons tightened, everyone started to prepare themselves for battle as they saw you and Johnny jump down from the ledge above.

The fight started when one of the men first lunged forward, his axe raised high above his head, aiming for your own. You dodged his attack and swung your bō as a counter, striking him in the jaw with a force that straight up broke the bone there and then. From there on, it was all a blur of blows and weapon swings.

Johnny was having the time of his life. He was able to show off just how skilled of a fighter he was AND get this mission over and done with. A bright smile was firmly stuck on his face during the whole ordeal. It was great that his plan was working and all, but the fact that you were there with him, literally fighting by his side, made it all the more fun.

You and Johnny might have been outnumbered but what Shao's men made up for in manpower, they lacked in skill. Truth was that none of them knew how to properly fight. They were barbarians, not trained soldiers. All they could do is aimlessly swing around their weapons whilst the much more skilled pair of champions dodged and counter-attacked. If only you knew how easy it would've been to fight these men, you wouldn't have wasted your time sneaking around.

Blood sprayed and splattered against the stone floors as you both carved through the platoon. Your bō staff was pulsing with green energy, shattering bones and tearing through flesh. Johnny's blows were swift and precise, yet packed power behind them. One of the guards swung a massive axe, but he dodged it effortlessly, countering with a shadow kick that sent the barbarian flying.

The pyramid's halls echoed with the sounds of grunts, yells and screams. The guards, despite their numbers and ferocity, were no match for yours and Johnny's might. One by one, they fell, their blood staining the grey floor a deep shade of crimson.

As the last guard slumped to the ground, you and Johnny stood amidst the carnage, surveying your work. You both were now completely covered in blood, from head to toe. Your once-green staff was almost glowing red and you couldn't find a spot on your uniform that was clean whilst Johnny's hair was wet with the red liquid, some follicles sticking to his forehead in strands due to all the moisture. The air was now silent, save for you two’s heavy breaths and the whirr of the machine in the background. The outcome of the battle was that not a single barbarian was left alive.

Turns out that Johnny's plan wasn't so foolish after all.

Speaking of, he craned his head to look over at you. The sight of you all disheveled, hair messy and body drenched completely in blood, had his cock pulse in his pants. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through him, but there was something about you like this that had something feral stir within him. He bit down his lip at the sight of you stretching your limbs out, eyeing you like a starving dog looking at a bowl full of food.

Not that you noticed any of this, though. Your heart was still racing as you were catching your breath, a little keeled over as your lungs drew in large quantities of air. It actually felt good, downright euphoric, to let loose like that, you couldn't remember the last time you did something so reckless. You were an assassin, your whole thing was stealth. To straight up engage in a massive brawl like this was a whole new world for you. It would be a lie to say that a small part of you didn’t like it.

Once your bearings were back, you turned to Johnny, watching your mission partner as he too was catching his breath. A small, triumphant smile grew on your lips as the reality that his plan actually worked set in. There was now nothing standing in the way between you and the gemstone. You couldn't believe how resourceful he had turned out to be on this mission.

Though exhausted, he made no effort to stop a wolfish smile bloom when the two of you locked eyes. His eyes ran themselves over your messy form once more, his teeth sinking down into his lower lip as his focus zeroed in on certain areas of your body.

"You know, princess, there's just something about watching a beautiful woman kick ass that makes me really-"

"Save it." You bluntly cut him off. Despite the high that you were feeling, Johnny's relentless flirting was still something that you couldn’t stand. You gave him a look as you put away your bō staff and tried your best to smooth down your now wild hair. The back of your fingers brushed the loose, wet strands out of your face as you made your way over to the machine.

Johnny just let out a small laugh in response before he walked over to you, snickering at your dismissal as he took his place just a few feet behind you. He took a minute to look around him, around at all the bodies and weapons strewn across the floor. The adrenaline from the battle had more or less dissipated now, allowing him to think clearly about the next step of the mission, now that everything was more or less complete.

"So, what next?"

"We go back to Sun Do and tell Liu Kang about all that we found. About this machine, the gemstone, Shao's men and the pyramid." You were telling Johnny as you crouched down, attempting to pry the gemstone out from the machine. "Geras is outside, waiting for us. Our mission is complete, all that's left is to turn off this contraption and pocket this stone for Liu Kang."

Removing it with a grunt, you stumbled back a little as the whole machine loudly powered down. The green glow of the soul magic ceased glowing, the machine finally going dark after Gods know how long it was active.

"Sounds good to me." He nodded at you, a confirmation of his understanding.

Using the map of the pyramid, the two of you started your journey out of the structure. Finally, the mission was over, you both could now leave this Godawful place and return home to safety. A small smile could be found on your blood stained face as you walked out of the chamber, map and gemstone in hand.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The knowledge that Shao's men weren't indeed trained soldiers, instead just glorified barbarians, made it so that sneaking around wasn't necessary for you and Johnny. No, your fear caution of them vanished after that big fight was over. Johnny was right, these barbarians were only scary in appearance. They were nothing more than large pushovers. As such, the two of you freely walked through the pyramid, not bothering to sneak through any secret passageways or hidden tunnels to avoid guard patrols. Any of Shao's men that crossed your paths were swiftly and effortlessly dealt with.

When you both finally exited the pyramid, you were shocked to find that it was evening already. Your hands flew to shield your eyes as they adjusted to the new opacity, the sudden light change nearly blinding you.

The heat of the desert day has given way to a cooler, more tranquil atmosphere, a nice breeze came with the new setting. The vast expanse of sand, stretching endlessly in every direction took on a soft, golden hue as the sun dipped below the horizon. Above, the sky had a gorgeous amber and topaz hue to it, the light was such a welcome change from the dusty darkness of the pyramid.

Have you really been in that pyramid for so long?

The walk back to the carriage was a relieving one. It felt amazing to finally be back in the world, and not in some dusty, decrepit temple where you couldn't see two feet in front of you. You savoured the cool, fresh air that was now gracing your skin. The sight of anything but old sandstone bricks wasn’t half bad, too.

Throughout the whole walk, Johnny was being his typical self and talking at you rather than to you. To be honest, you couldn't blame him, the man was finally on his way back to civilisation and his beloved materialistic possessions, he was basically on cloud nine right now.

Yes, he was just wrapping up a story of how he met Nicki Minaj for the first time at some event as you both neared the carriage.

“…And when I asked her for an autograph, she said-" The conclusion of his recollection was cut off when he laid his eyes on Geras’ carriage. His face lit up as he saw that he was finally here; finally ready to go home.

"There it is! Ohhh, I can't wait have a nice, hot shower when I get back..." Johnny was absolutely on a high, he was so happy to be out of the temple and even more happy to have gotten so much time to spend with your lovely self. You actually weren’t that bad, who knew?

You were walking along, your arms crossed to your chest as you were distantly listening to Johnny ramble on and on about his celebrity encounters. Your spirits were raised when the carriage came into view. Your eyes brightened a little, that small smile from before made a return.

You both approached Geras whilst he was attending to the horses that pulled the carriage. The construct took his eyes off of the steeds to find that you and Johnny were finally back, looking a lot more worse for wear than when you both first entered the pyramid.

"Jade. Johnny. Welcome back. It is good to see the two of you. I trust that the mission was a success?” If he was shocked by your messy appearances, Geras didn't let it show. The only visible reaction he had was a simple smile as he greeted you both.

"Hello, Geras." You politely greet him back with another smile, pleased to see him too. “The mission was a success."

You take out the gemstone from behind your back in order to present it to your driver, extending your arm out so he could get a better view of the artefact.

"We came across a machine, the source of the disturbance. This gemstone was powering it and-"

“After we kicked some major ass, that is. We were outnumbered but it was no problem for the two of us." Johnny cut you off before you could finish your sentence. He shot a wink your way as you gave him a small snarl.

"...Right, yes. The pyramid was crawling with General Shao's soldiers. They were both operating and guarding this machine. We don't know why, but I'm sure if we keep investigating around Outworld, we'll find answers."

Johnny just snickered in response to your adverse reaction, relishing in how easily he was able to get under your skin. That cute snarl of yours made him want to keep taunting and teasing you until you snap.

Meanwhile, Geras' eyes fell to the gemstone in your hand, a neutral expression on his face as he scanned the item intently.

"Liu Kang will be very interested to see this... and learn of your findings."

With his analysis complete, he then walked over to the carriage door, opening it and gesturing for you both to get in.

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as he saw that door opening, he rushed to the carriage, clambering his way inside and making the whole vehicle shake wildly in the process. He was in such a hurry that he didn't even remember to dramatically help you inside, like you were some sort of Hollywood starlet. Wow, he REALLY wanted to get back home.

You, however, were a lot more hesitant. You were aware of how dirty your uniform was, you didn’t wish to muck up that lovely carriage.

"A-are you sure it's alright for us to go inside like this? We're so unclean and I-"

After watching Johnny clamber into the carriage like a feral child, Geras turned his attention to you. A kind smile was on his face, a strange affection was present in his stoic eyes.

"Of course it is, Jade. I will clean the carriage once the two of you are out. It's quite alright, I assure you."

Johnny's muffled voice could be heard from inside the carriage, calling out to you through the wooden walls.

"C'mon, Jade, get in here!"

You swallow the lump in your throat and make your way forward, into the vehicle - at a less reckless place than your partner. Despite the cold-blooded assassin that you were, you were actually somewhat of a neat freak. You hated the idea of staining such a lovely carriage with your filthy uniform.

The door closed with a loud thud. Once the two of you were inside, Geras closed the door. He made his way to the front of the carriage, sitting down and lacing the horse’s reigns through his fingers.

"When the two of you are ready, we shall depart for Sun Do." He informed you both, his voice muffled through the wooden walls of the carriage.

Realising that it was just you and him now for the entire ride back, Johnny's earlier thoughts about you started to fill his mind once again. He looked over at you, taking in just how dirty and bloody you were… and yet, you still looked unbelievably attractive.

A smirk spread across his face as an idea seemed to hit him, there was a little game he wanted to play with you on the long ride back.

"You know, princess, when we were kicking ass back in the pyramid, you looked so-"

"Geras! We're ready to leave!” You cut him off by loudly shouting to your designated driver, rapping your knuckles against the carriage wall as you look Johnny dead in the eyes.

His smirk faded into a thin line in response, annoyed that you’d already shut him down before he even got started. He just didn't get it, why did you always have to do this every time he tried to flirt with her? Was he just that insufferable?

Johnny huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat as he watched you. He had a few choice words, but he chose to keep his comments to himself.

For now.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

By now, you all were around half an hour into the ride. The trundle of the carriage, in the background, as well as the view of the setting sun, was serene to look at and listen to.

You were gazing out of the carriage window, savouring how nice it was to finally kick back and relax. You had your feet propped up on the seat across, right beside Johnny's hip. Speaking of - he was on his phone, scrolling through his social media after being offline for so long. Somehow, that device still had battery life, something that Johnny was all too happy to take advantage of.

He would look up at you every couple of minutes, not able to resist the way the sunlight made your bronze skin glow. He was also hyperaware of her feet right beside his hip, he had to fight the urge to grab them and plant them on his lap. His hand would tighten its grip on his phone as he kept looking at you. His eyes travelled all over, from your long legs to the breastplate of your uniform. From your gorgeous face to how your hair was slightly messy from the fight back at the pyramid. He just couldn't look away no matter how much he tried. If he kept staring at you like this, he'd lose his mind. You didn't notice his staring, though. You were too focused on the outside world. It was so nice to finally be out of that pyramid, and on the way back to Sun Do.

A long shower awaited you, as well as a proper meal and a clean bed.

"You know…” The sound of his voice cut through the comfortable silence, all low and smooth. “…we could always pass this time in other ways."

"By the Gods..." You mumbled with a sigh, a little annoyed that your peace was interrupted by this man and his insatiable lust.

Johnny chuckled a little at your reaction, once again amused by how easily he was able to get under your beautiful skin. You always tried to act so calm and collected... and yet, he seemed to be able to rile you up so easily, without fail.

"Oh, c'mon princess. I'm just saying, we're all alone here, stuck in this carriage together..." He set his phone down beside him and leaned back in his seat, his arms casually behind his head as his eyes scanned your body once more.

"We aren’t alone. Geras is right outside." You took your attention away from the window and towards Johnny across from you. The fact that his wet, messy hair and blood covered uniform was somehow weirdly attractive made you a little less mad than you should be.

"Oh, whatever. Geras is too busy right now. The dude's probably more interested in keeping those horses at a good pace, anyway. You really think he's paying any attention to us?"

Johnny's relentless flirting got a scoff out of you. "Save that attitude for Kitana, I'm sure it'll be more effective." You teased, leaning back a little and crossing your arms to your chest.

He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff of his own. "Kitana's not here, you're here. I'm stuck in a carriage with you, darlin’, and I'm bored. The least you can do is keep me company."

You watched him in amusement. He was so annoying, and you did dislike him, but there was just something about him that was just... funny to you.

"Your little tricks won't work on me."

"They won't, huh? How can you be so sure?" Johnny's smirk widened at your response. Oh, what a little challenge you were. He liked it. He loved it, actually. He was all the more determined to test your patience.

"Because I know what men like you are like." You looked him up and down a little before carrying on. "You'd flirt with a rock if it told you it was interested."

He leaned back a little in his seat, his arms still behind his head as he looked you up and down. Gods, she looked incredibly hot in this getup... He really was having a hard time controlling his urges right now.

Johnny laughed heartily at your words as he leaned back a little in his seat, his arms still behind his head as he looked you up and down. A large smile made its way onto his face at your assumption. Did you really think he was that pathetic?

"No no no, princess, you've got it all wrong. I'm a man of high standards, I’ll have you know..."

You scoffed as he went on, looking away for a moment in disbelief. He can’t be serious.

"I'm serious, sweetheart. I've got a very specific type of woman that I like. And I'm pretty sure you fit that type perfectly..." He was smirking, his eyes still fixed on you.

This, admittedly, got a little snicker out of you. You really couldn't help it. He was just so amusing to you, like some sort court jester. The way he would have that little smirk on his face after every joke just added to it. It was familiar, in a way. Yes, his demeanour actually reminded you of someone.

Your brother, Hiroshi.

The realisation that Johnny was actually kind of similar to your brother made you let go of the smile that you didn't realise you were wearing. The muscles in your face relaxed, you took your eyes off of Johnny and looked down. Your mood changed from one of amusement to one of remorse. A slight frown appeared on your lips, your eyes started to gloss over with melancholy.

Thinking of your brother opened up a whole load of painful memories for you.

Memories that were now running through her mind.

The flashy smirk on Johnny’s face faded into a thin line as he noticed the sudden shift in your expression. It was weird, one moment you were quietly laughing at his silly flirting - and the next, you looked like someone had died. Johnny’s eyes widened slightly, you staring at the floor with a look of pain on your face made him a little concerned, if he was honest.

“…You alright?” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your knee, just to get your attention.

You didn’t react to his touch, you were lost in your painful memories by this point. You slumped down in your seat a little, your eyes started to well up slightly with tears.

Silence was thick in the air for a bit. All that could be heard was the trundle of the carriage along the ground, paired with some occasional animal noises outside. You just sat there, reminiscing about past memories whilst Johnny didn’t really know what to do but keep his hand on your knee and hope that you’d tell him what was bothering you. He really had no sense of how to deal with something like this, being around tears and a sad person was definitely not his area of expertise. A part of him wanted to say something, anything, but another part of him didn’t. He had no idea if he’d make it worse.

After a moment, you noticed how Johnny’s hand was on your knee. You looked up and saw his concerned, genuine expression. That stupid smirk was nowhere to be found.

You blink away your forming tears and take a deep breath in. There was something about Johnny’s concerned facial expression that resonated with you. His brown eyes were shining with worry, concern. You never thought you’d see such a sight.

“Um, yes, it’s just… my brother.” You sniffled before carrying on. “…He’s on my mind.”

Johnny’s eyes widened slightly at your words. That’d definitely explain it… but he was more surprised that you’d even bother to tell him about your troubles.

“Your…brother?”

He moved his hand from your knee and sat up a little, curious about this newfound information. Johnny realised in that moment that he knew almost nothing about you, save for the time in the pyramid where you briefly mentioned that your brother is a fan of his.

"Yeah, uh..." You also sat up a little, wiping your eyes clear with your fingers. "...I never told you all there was to him."

Seeing Johnny's genuine concern made you actually want to open up to him a little. There was more to him that met your eye. Maybe, just maybe, he could understand your struggles.

“No, you didn’t…” Johnny was truly surprised. He had caught you in a moment of emotional weakness, you were behaving so unlike the woman he knew. Of course, he didn't really know you, and he was just now realising that there were so much more layers to you as a person. A part of him found it slightly endearing getting a more personal look at you, the feeling only increased when he realised that you were seemingly opening up to him, of all people. He was the last person he assumed she would ever open up to.

“…Do you want to tell me now?”

You take a deep breath in, clearing some of your mental fog as you prepare yourself to speak next. You couldn’t believe that you were really about to open up to Johnny Cage of all people, to tell him of your troubles. Emotions are a crazy thing, aren't they?

"My parents are dead." You bluntly state, looking him dead in the eyes as you did so. If you were going to do this, you might as well be quick with it and cut to the chase. "They passed when I was a teenager."

“They-…damn. I’m… sorry, princess…” Johnny didn’t know what to say, eyes widening at your confession. He’d expected something a little more lighthearted, but he knew that was a stupid assumption.

"Ever since, my younger brother - Hiroshi - has been the only family I've had." You carry on, finding it surprisingly not as hard to tell Johnny about your emotional baggage. You’d been carrying all of this for years, the weight damn near crushing. It actually felt really good, so freeing, to release the stress like this.

"I cared for him above all else. I looked out for him, I raised him. I wasn't just his elder sister, I was his guardian. I provided for him throughout the years, he was all I had left." You carry on, the memories of your brother making you tear up once again. You blink away the forming tears, though. If there's something you weren’t going to do, it was cry in front of Johnny.

Speaking of, he was leaning back in his seat, listening intently to your words. Images of you caring for and practically raising your brother from a young age flashed through his mind. He could hear the love in your voice just by the way you spoke of Hiroshi. The way you described him being all you had made his heart quiver. Part of him really wanted to get up and give you some sort of comforting touch, but he refrained out of fear of another negative reaction.

"Gods above, I even killed for him..." You raise your hand to your face, your palm covering your now quivering lip. Opening up like this really hurt, it was like tearing open old wounds. This is why you constantly bottle up your feelings.

That revelation stunned him slightly. Johnny actually respected that, in a way. He’d give anything to have someone that dedicated to him. He could sense her pain, in the way her voice faltered as she spoke and how her face strained to maintain its stoic expression. He actually felt that.

"He was everything to me, my reason for waking up every morning. I worked so hard to raise him, to keep a roof over our heads. I was sacrificing my life for him, so that I could give him the childhood that was torn away from me.”

You pause for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose to stop any tears from slipping past the seams of your eyes. Your heart stung and your breaths were shaky as you desperately clung to the last of your composure.

"...And then, despite everything that I did, something happened between us." You kept what went down between you and Hiroshi purposely vague, both because you weren’t comfortable really opening up to Johnny like that and because you truly despise thinking about that fateful day that tore you both apart.

"We got into an argument, a bad one. That was the last I saw of him. We never spoke again afterwards, he… ran away somewhere. It's been years, I've been alone since.” Your hand wiped away the tear that was now rolling down your cheek. Talking about this was so hard, but it really did feel a little better now that you had got some of your burdens off of your chest.

Johnny kept a steady look at his face as you spoke, paying close attention to you and you only. Part of him still wanted to reach out and place a hand on your shoulder, but he wasn’t sure if that would upset you further. So, he opted to sit there and listen to you pour your heart out.

“…I’m sorry that this happened to you.” His voice was very soft as he spoke, completely clear and serious.

You were now looking at him instead of the carriage floor. The fact that he hadn't made some dumb joke by now actually surprised you a little. He was really, wholeheartedly listening to you. You honestly never knew he had this side to him.

"...When we were in the pyramid, and I told you that Hiroshi is a fan of yours, all the memories came flooding back. That's why I switched like that. The reason why I pretended that it was nothing afterwards is because I didn't want to relive all of those painful memories."

You exhaled, letting go of the breath that you didn't realise you were holding in. There it was, you had fully laid out your bearings for him. It was painful to talk about, but it felt liberating. None of the other boys knew this much about your past - nobody did, really.

Johnny's expression softened. This conversation was revealing a lot about you, details that he never knew before. He understood your reasoning completely. His past was actually similarly as heavy as yours, and you were about to find that out right now.

“I don't talk to my brother too."

This caught you off guard a little, the remorseful expression you wore now had a twist of shock added to it. You never knew he had a brother? Was this even public knowledge? The answer was no. Johnny had his own skeletons in his closet, too.

"You have a brother?"

Johnny chuckled slightly at your reaction. It was an expression he knew all too well. His public image was very much the one of a single, free man. This was purposeful, he wanted to create a certain image that would give him success and fame. His family was just never something he publicly spoke about.

"No one knows, honestly. Save for a few of my close friends. My past isn't all glitz and glamour, princess. I've got my own fair share of baggage, too."

Now, you were a mix of remorseful, shocked and intrigued. The fact that Johnny Cage of all people could relate to your family struggles was baffling, near incomprehensible to you. Truly, there was more to him that met the eye.

"...You said that you and him don't speak?" Now you were the one being careful with your words. You were looking at him with sympathy, watching how his expression morphed from one of concern to one of repentance.

Johnny gave a quiet sigh, leaning against the wall of the wagon in a defeated manner. There was no joke or smirk to be seen on his face, only a somber expression as he met your gaze. Memories of his past started to return. Bad recollections of his childhood flashed through his mind, much to his dismay.

"No... our relationship is pretty much shattered, honestly. It was never really good to begin with. We haven't seen each other in years."

Wow, this was sad to hear. You never knew any of this. Your sympathetic expression only deepened as he went on.

Johnny took another moment to let his thoughts run through his head. This was something he rarely talked about with anyone. But, he felt compelled to share his past with you. You had opened up to him, it was only fair that he opened up to you in return.

"We've always hated each other. We've never really gotten along or seen eye-to-eye since our younger years. He blamed me for a bunch of stuff when we were younger. It wasn't ever pretty."

He took a deep breath in before continuing. No one, apart from his therapist, knew the full extent of his upbringing. He tried so hard to avoid his past, but the memories still lingered.

"My dad was a piece of shit, too. He would hit me, slap me around and shit like that..."

"I'm sorry that you experienced such a thing.” You were genuine. It was saddening to hear that Johnny grew up being abused. From how confident he always was, you never would've guessed that he was hiding all of this. You couldn't relate, but you could still empathise.

Through his hurt, Johnny could see your compassionate expression. The look of sympathy your eyes were giving him was something that he wasn’t used to. It would be a lie to say that it was unwelcome, though. He found it oddly refreshing to have someone look at him like that. It was nice, heartwarming.

"It's okay, it's in the past now." He gave a light sigh and leaned his head against the carriage wall. Though he wore a small smile, his eyes shone with pain as he looked up at you.

Your heart ached. It was always horrible to hear that someone grew up being abused, no matter who it was. You empathetically looked over at Johnny as he slumped down in his seat a little.

"I was never good or tough enough for my old man.” He gave a humourless scoff as he continued, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his fingers. “He would compare me to my brother a lot. He would go on about how I wasn't ‘a real man’ like them and stuff..."

Johnny's breath caught in his throat slightly, he was fighting back tears by this point. “And… um… my mom died too."

This only served to shock you further. A small gasp came from you when he revealed this very unexpected, very tragic information. You would never of guessed that he was living with all of this pain.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Johnny."

He gave a shaky sigh at that, his whole body tensing for a moment there. It hurt to talk about this stuff, his vision was slightly blurry and his eyes were burning with tears threatening to fall. But, for the first time in a long time, he wanted to open up to someone about it. A part of him wanted to be vulnerable and let you see who he really was.

"She... she, uh...got cancer when I was pretty young. It was real hard, honestly. Watching her struggle like that."

Hearing that Johnny's mother passed away from such a horror had your heart twitch in despair. Without thinking, you leaned forward and gently placed your hand on his knee, as a way of consoling him. Your light touch startled him a little, but it also gave him the strength he didn’t know he needed in the moment.

"And ever since then, your father has raised you?"

He nodded, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. He found it hard to be so raw, but he felt compelled to continue opening up to you, to show you the real him and not the persona he put on for the public.

"Yeah... he raised my siblings and I by himself after she passed… it wasn't great."

"Siblings?" Yet another piece of Johnny's lore that took you by surprise. He had more family?

He nodded again, his eyes prying themselves off of the floor and back onto you. There was something about your comfort that was so soothing for him, your palm on his knee had his stomach doing flips in the best way possible.

"I, uh… yeah. I have a younger sister."

"Do you at least get along with her?" You were silently hoping for a positive answer as your hand withdrew from his knee. You were hoping that he didn’t share the same burden of being a lone person in this world.

Another humourless scoff escaping him as he thought about your question. Johnny and his sister were actually close, but they grew farther and farther apart as they got older, even more so when he started to become famous and grow as an actor.

His sister was the favourite of their father. She received the princess treatment from the man, leaving Johnny alone on the back burner. It hurt to think of it like that. A part of him resented his sister for getting all their father’s praise and love whilst he got none.

"Yeah, we were close when we were younger. My favourite sibling, I always called her."

Hearing this drew a small smile out of you, raising the somber mood of the carriage a little. A tiny smile appeared on your melancholy face. Finally, something to his childhood that wasn't totally depressing.

"Is that so?"

The sight of your brightening face had Johnny feel… something. A weird type of happiness, it was nice to hear your voice sound less somber. A small smile of his own appeared on his face, one to match yours.

"Yeah, it is. I was very protective of her, actually."

Your smile turned into a laugh at his words, the sweet sound music to his ears.

"I was the same with Hiroshi." You smiled, leaning back against the carriage wall. "Your sister, what's her name?"

"Rebecca... that's her name." He flashed you a bright smile. Some of that Cage charm shined through his demeanour, like the sun after a storm.

"That's a lovely name." You said brightly, finally letting up your melancholy mood.

Johnny chuckled, this time his laughter was real and authentic. It was weird to be talking to you of all people like this, letting you see more of his past than just the facade that he showed the rest of the world. Today was just full of surprises.

"She always called me Johnny, she couldn't say my full name properly for the longest. That's one of the reasons why I chose Johnny Cage as my stage name."

You were actually enjoying hearing Johnny open up like this. The two of you were actually bonding about your shared experiences. This was something none of them ever foresaw happening.

"When Hiroshi was young, and he was just starting to speak..." You started, smiling as you reminisced about positive memories for once. "...he couldn't pronounce the 'D' in my name, so he just called me Jay."

"Oh? 'Jay’, huh? Cute." Another bright smile graced his features, his own depression letting up too.

You laughed at this, your sorrow now long gone. “Gods above, it was so tasteless. I think he was around eight when he finally started to call me Jade...?"

“Eight? Geez, did he do it on purpose or something?"

"Oh no, he definitely did. He did it just to get on my nerves." You looked down to your hands, fiddling with your fingers a bit whilst snickering at the memories of your beloved brother. "So dumb..."

Johnny chuckled at that. “Yeah, siblings are dumb. No matter what you do or say, they're always gonna be a pain in the ass, right?"

You take your attention off of your hands and back towards Johnny. This man talking about people being a pain in the ass was just so ironic, you couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

"The fact that that's coming from you of all people is hilarious."

Johnny feigned surprise, holding a hand against his chest in mock offence at your words. Yet, there was still a cocky smile shining through as he pretended to be insulted.

"Me? Pain in the ass? I'll have you know I'm a delight to be around, sweetheart."

"Ha! Yeah, right!” You laughed again, not believing any of his words for a second. His dumb arrogance was actually starting to grow on you, in a weird way.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, processing all that had been told. It felt good, both for you and Johnny to get some of this weight off of your psyches. The fact that you both could somewhat relate to each other in this manner was a pleasant surprise. Who knew that you and Johnny Cage were actually kind of similar in this way? Whatever minuscule respect you both had for each other had now subsequently increased, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that you two disliked each other a little less.

After a few minutes, you broke the silence. Your arms folded to your chest, your voice had your usual snark to it as you spoke up.

“I hope you know that just because we opened up to each other like this, it doesn't mean that I'll start falling for you."

A scoff came from Johnny at that. He knew you weren’t going to jump into his lap because of everything he had told you. He just couldn't help himself, though. He needed to try and get under your skin a bit more, to make your beautiful face screw up in irritation like it always did.

"Aw, damn... And here I was hoping you were gonna throw your arms around my neck and confess your undying love for me."

“Ha! Not a chance in all the realms, Cage."

Johnny laughed, leaning back against his seat and placing his hands on his thighs with a cocky smirk still on his face. This kind of banter wasn't anything new, but now that you both knew a bit more about one another, something about it felt different now than it did before.

"Not even for my good looks? Come on, don't pretend like you don't wanna just grab me and have some fun, babe.”

You slowly shake your head at this man and his ridiculousness. Even though you now got to see a more vulnerable and raw side of Johnny, changing your view of him for the better, you still think of him as an annoying prick. Oh well, some things can never change.

A/N: once again, thank you for reading!! this was the biggest one yet, i wanted to get this pyramid arc over and done with. another thank you to @criminalmutantsins for heavily inspiring my view of johnny’s childhood. the next chapters will be shorter, i promise.

when i tell y’all I can’t wait for you to read chapter 4- 🤭

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