#i love him so much all i wanna do is tell him how much i miss him and love him but thats not NORMAL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 1 day ago

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until i found you — ryomen sukuna.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently. He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?" "...Yes?" "Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better." Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?" "Yeah? And what?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed." "What, you think I don't have taste?" "I know you don’t have taste."

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Violence, Depiction of Violence, Mention of Violence, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 8.6k words.

Note: i'm so sorry for the delay on the satosugu fic, the time frame of my schedule is not allowing me to go and finish it. its going to be delayed. as my apology, please enjoy this litle thing from me. also, im opening commissions, so if you wanna commission me, look here!!! in any case, i love you all so much. see you soon <3

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lovesick playlist

IT WAS NOT LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT LIKE EVERYONE THINKS IT IS. Not all love stories were meant to be that, after all. But it was interesting nonetheless that it was how you got to know about him for the first time.

The first thing you heard from where you stood was that rather brutish hit of impact. A dull, sickening thud followed by a sharp grunt of pain.

The loud and rowdy crowd that had gathered near the school gate was already thick by the time you arrived. At the back where you stood, their voices a mix of eager whispers and nervous gasps.

A fight wasn’t uncommon near the school, there were quite a lot of delinquents in your school. Even the teachers were wanting to stay clear of it. But the sheer energy in the air told you this wasn’t just any fight.

You pushed up on your toes trying to see above all these tall figures, craning your neck to see past the wall of uniformed backs. And that’s when you spotted him. Your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight you were seeing now.

That pink haired standing tall above that guy.

His name escaped you, but you’ve heard of him. His name carried weight even in places he had never stepped foot in. If anything, it brought chills to people’s spines. The goosebumps were always felt just at the mention of his name, just as much as fear echoes when you catch his darkened eyes. You’ve never seen him before, that was for sure. But you’ve heard of him. And he had quite the name.

This is what your friends were talking about. This is a delinquent in the purest sense—not the kind that smoked behind the gym and skipped class for fun, but the kind who sent people to the hospital and still walked away with that damned smirk on his face. And he was smirking now.

Even with the blood bellowing down on his lip, the brutally raw scrape on his knuckles ensuing through each punch, the loose tie hanging off his collar. You could tell he just really looked bored.

That had surprised you more than anything, if you were being honest. You thought that this would at least feel like a thrill for him. Violence usually feels like that. You would have thought a delinquent would feel that way.

Yet it was like he was toying with the guy in front of him, who was hunched over helplessly, clutching his ribs and struggling to breathe at the act of being beaten down by the fiend in front of him.

And still, it was the most uninteresting thing he’s ever found himself doing. This fuschia haired young boy seemed so bored at the prospect of this kid not being able to fight back, or be interesting.

“Oi.” Sukuna drawled, tilting his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You done already? That’s pathetic.”

The other guy barely managed to lift his head before the fuschia haired kid moved—fluid, effortless, the kind of speed that made it clear this wasn’t just some reckless brawl. His fist collided with the guy’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the school gate with a loud clang.

“I thought you’d have more fun fighting, huh? You were having so much fun staring at a girl’s skirt just a bit, weren’t you? Come on, you prick. Get up!”

Somewhere in the crowd, someone flinched.

Someone else muttered a curse under their breath.

And you—you just stared at what was happening in front of you.

It wasn’t just the violence that had you frozen. It was the way he carried himself, the sheer audacity in every motion. He wasn’t just winning. He was playing over and over again like it was a game, even if it wasn’t. Like a predator dragging out the inevitable just because he could. And he wanted to hunt, he wanted to eat the weak from down under his feet.

Then, his scarlet gaze lifted.

For a single, breathless second, your eyes met.

A slow, deliberate shift came about him. It was like he had known you were watching the entire time but only now decided to acknowledge it. The corner of his mouth curled upward, something dark and knowing twisting in his expression.

He had noticed you.

A strange heat crawled up your spine, a mix of adrenaline and unease. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more. The fact that he had seen you, or the fact that you couldn’t look away.

His gaze had been fleeting. It was just a flicker of recognition before he turned back to his opponent. Yet, the fight wasn’t over.

And for some reason, you got the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Ryomen Sukuna looked your way. The thought made something tighten in your chest. Then all that was left was a a sharp crack.

A dull, sickening thud as his beaten opponent hit the pavement, groaning in pain. You barely had time to process it as you held your breath, before someone beside you finally snapped out of their stunned daze.

“Someone there, please go and call the teachers to break up the fight!”

The voice jolted you back to reality. A murmur rippled through the crowd—some of the students were panicked, the others seemed to be too excited, some already pulling out their phones and calling help, some were taking a video.

But that pink haired kid?

He just laughed.

Low, rough, full of something almost thrilled as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, like the fight had barely warmed him up. The poor bastard groaned, barely managing to lift his head before slumping back down.

“You done?” he asked, gaze dropping to the guy on the ground.

The pink haired kid merely scoffed, brushing dust off his uniform before turning away, completely unbothered. Then his gaze flickered up again. Right at you. It barely lasted only a second. But it was intentional. Like he was acknowledging you. Marking you.

And just like that, with teachers finally rushing onto the scene, that kid with the pink hair turned on his heel and walked off, slipping through the growing chaos like he hadn’t just left another name to fear in his wake. You exhaled, stomach tight, fingers curled into your sleeves.

You should forget this. Forget him.

But you knew—deep down, you wouldn’t.

And something told you that he wouldn’t, either.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR PEACEFUL TIME. After all, the school rooftop was supposed to be empty during lunch time. Lately, it has been your sanctuary after a long morning of back to back classes.

It was the one place you could escape to when the noise of everything became too much, when the dull routine of school felt suffocating. Up here, the wind was sharp, the air felt clearer, and for just a little while, you could be alone.

But today, someone else was here.

Someone wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet you can tell someone up there from just the slit of the door.

You quickly noticed him the moment you stepped through the rooftop door. It was a figure sprawled across the concrete near the fence, arms behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg lazily extended.

Even before you fully registered who it was, your body tensed, instincts screaming at you to retreat. But then your eyes landed on his face, and your breath caught in your throat. That kid from the fight on the first day.

Wait, what the hell? You think to yourself almost panicked. Why is he here?

You tried to remember his name for a moment, racking your brain.

That’s right! You gasped quietly to yourself. It’s Ryomen. Ryomen Sukuna. That’s what his name was!

Even asleep, he looked like trouble. His uniform was rumpled, the first few buttons undone, his tie discarded somewhere beside him. A faint cut graced his cheekbone. It seems to be fresh, like he had gotten into another fight earlier but couldn’t be bothered to clean up before crashing here. He must have been exhausted from the fight.

You should leave. You really should. The last thing you needed was to get caught in his orbit. But the thought of giving up your quiet retreat made frustration coil in your stomach. So, with careful, measured steps, you sat down a few feet away, placing your lunch in your lap and making sure to keep your movements silent. Maybe—just maybe—if you were lucky, he wouldn’t wake up.

You weren’t lucky. It happened in an instant. A low breath, a subtle shift. Then, his scarlet eyes snapped open. A cold, sinking weight settled in your chest as your gaze locked with his.

It was the first time you had ever seen his eyes up close.

They weren’t just sharp, they were dangerous. It was like a blade that glinted under the light, beautiful in its lethality. There was no haze of sleep in them, no confusion. Just silent, unwavering awareness. A predator waking to find someone in its space. His gaze flicked over you, slow and deliberate, before settling back on your face.

“…...The hell are you staring at?” His voice was rough from sleep, low and edged with irritation.

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your chopsticks. Your brain scrambled for a response, something that wouldn’t make this worse. “…Nothing.”

His thick brow twitched. For a second, you thought he might call you out on your lie. But he seemed too tired to even care. Ryomen Sukuna let out a lazy scoff, stretching his arms over his head with a bone-popping crack before settling back down.

“Tch. Whatever.”

And just like that, he closed his eyes again.

You blinked. That was it?

No sneering remarks? No challenge?

The tension in your chest didn’t ease, but the kid didn’t seem to care about your presence anymore. Like you weren’t worth his energy. Like you were barely an afterthought.

The wind carried the distant sound of the school bell ringing in the distance, signaling the lunch break was halfway over. You forced yourself to exhale, slow and steady, before finally peeling open your lunch box.

Maybe, just maybe, you could still eat in peace.

But something told you this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross.

And that thought was far more unnerving than you wanted to admit.

You tried to ignore him.

Tried to focus on your lunch, on the way the wind ruffled your uniform, on the distant sounds of students laughing below. Anything but the fact that Ryomen Sukuna was still there, barely a few feet away, resting like he owned the entire rooftop.

But no matter how much you tried to tune him out from the background as you ate, the weight of his presence lingered. It was like a storm cloud on the horizon, waiting to crack open.

The silence just continued to stretch through the blowing winds. Then, you felt a shift. A quiet, subtle rustling of fabric as the fuschia haired kid turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open in your direction.

“You always eat up here?”

You faltered mid-bite. “Huh?”

His tone wasn’t particularly interested in what you were doing or why you were here, but the fact that he was speaking to you at all was… unsettling. Everything about this moment just felt too tense, it was making your stomach spin. A moment passed before you swallowed and forced yourself to respond.

“…Yeah.” You finally whispered back at him.

Sukuna made a low sound—half amusement, half acknowledgment. “Tch. Thought so. You don’t look like the type to sit with all the other idiots down there.”

You frowned, unsure whether that was supposed to be an insult or not. But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow now, watching you with an unreadable expression. It made your skin prickle.

“…What?” you muttered, feeling the need to break the silence.

His smirk curled slow and lazy, like he was enjoying something only he understood. “Nothing.”

Liar. You think to yourself, gripping your chopsticks too hard. This kid…..

His scarlet gaze stayed on you for a second longer, then, without another word, he flopped back down, arms behind his head once more. A breeze passed between you, carrying the faint scent of metal and sweat. It was as though the remnants of whatever fight he had been in earlier bristles past you both.

You should have been relieved that he lost interest, that he wasn’t prying any further. But something about the way he had looked at you left an uneasy weight in your chest. As if, despite everything, despite the distance you had tried to keep. He had just decided you were interesting.

You tried to keep eating, but your appetite had taken a hit. Something about the way Ryomen Sukuna had looked at you unnerved you. It was that look, that lazy, knowing, look. It was like he had already decided something about you. And that had more than ever made it hard to focus on anything else.

The rooftop had always been your place.

It was your quiet retreat to begin with.

But now, with him here, it felt different.

Everything just felt like it was off-balance, occupied.

You stole a glance at him. He was still lying there, arms behind his head, eyes closed again like he hadn’t just made your skin crawl a moment ago. His breathing was steady, his expression unreadable, but you knew better than to think he wasn’t aware of everything around him.

He was too sharp for that. The last thing you wanted was to let him think he had you rattled, so you forced yourself to eat. One bite. Another. Just ignore him. You were going to finish with your meal soon enough.

You can go back and take a walk after this. You busied yourself with finishing the meal, letting the silence reign over. But the silence didn’t last long, as you would like to hope.

“So?”

You paused mid-chew, blinking. “What?”

Sukuna didn’t move. “How long are you gonna sit there pretending I don’t exist?”

You stiffened. His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something else underneath it. You couldn’t help but think that there was something unreadable in there. It was mysterious, it was a pandemonium you could never know escape from. It was like he remains that sphinx who wants your attention to solve his enigma.

“I’m not pretending about anything.” you muttered, keeping your gaze on your lunch.

“Yeah?” A soft chuckle, low and lazy. “Then why do you look so tense?”

Your chopsticks froze in place. You weren’t tense. Were you? That had made you sit still, even more frozen than before as you start to question yourself. Before you could answer, Ryomen Sukuna finally moved, rolling onto his side to look at you again. The way his sharp eyes dragged over you made your spine go rigid, and you hated that he noticed.

“Tch.” he scoffed. “You really don’t talk much, huh?”

You swallowed down your irritation. “I don’t see a reason to.”

That made him smirk. “Smart.”

You didn’t know why, but the word felt like a backhanded compliment. Then, as if he had already lost interest, he flopped back onto his back, exhaling like he had all the intention of that being his last breath to you.

This whole interaction was nothing more than an afterthought to him.

You should have been relieved all about it.

But somehow, you just weren’t.

Because for some reason, Ryomen Sukuna’s presence lingered in your mind like a storm you couldn’t quite ignore. Even as you left that place, knowing he’d fallen back asleep, you found yourself in a quagmire of him. Your lips pressed into a line as you walked back into the hallways. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d find him up here.

And you were right to feel it.

A few days passed.

And just as you feared, Ryomen Sukuna did in fact keep showing up.

The first time that happened, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he was just skipping class, maybe he liked the solitude too, though nothing about Ryomen Sukuna screamed quiet loner.

But by the fifth time, you knew better.

You pushed open the rooftop door one afternoon, lunch in hand, only to find him already there—again. This time, he was sitting up, arms resting on his knees, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the breeze.

You hesitated in the doorway. “That’s illegal for a kid to do, you know?”

“Does it matter?” He glanced at you, expression unreadable. “You’re late.”

Your grip tightened on your lunchbox. “I didn’t know we had a schedule.”

A lazy smirk pulled at his lips. “We do now.”

You didn’t respond, just walked past him and sat in your usual spot, a careful distance away. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything after that, just went back to watching the sky, flicking ash from his cigarette with a slow, practiced motion.

It was almost peaceful, you would say. Well, almost. But even in silence, he was there, taking up space, shifting the air around him like gravity itself bent to his will. And you hated that you were starting to get used to it. It was starting to get a little bit more comfortable to you, the concept of being together.

Halfway through your meal, he spoke again. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned his head slightly, looking at you with a lazy sort of curiosity. “You. You always eat alone, you don’t talk much, and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You frowned, ignoring the prickle of irritation at how easily he had read you. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Yeah? Same.”

He flicked the cigarette away, watching the embers burn out as it hit the concrete. Then, before you could think of a response, he leaned back against the metal chain linked fence, stretching his arms out over the metal railing, and exhaled like he had just decided something.

“Guess I’ll keep you company, then.”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna grinned, sharp and cocky. “You don’t like people. I don’t like people. We can not like people together.”

You stared at him, searching for some kind of punchline, some hint that he was messing with you. But he just looked at you, completely at ease, like he had already made up his mind and your opinion didn’t matter. Something about that made your stomach twist.

You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t ask for company.”

He shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve interested me.”

You frowned. Interested in him?

That wasn’t something you wanted.

Not from Ryomen Sukuna.

Your chopsticks hovered over your lunch as you tried to pretend like his words didn’t bother you, but you could feel his scarlet gaze still on you—watching, studying. Like you were a puzzle he was in no rush to solve, content just to poke at the pieces and see what happened.

“That’s not my problem, Ryomen.” you muttered, stabbing a piece of food a little too aggressively.

Sukuna only chuckled, the sound low and amused. “You’re acting like you have a choice.”

That made your eye twitch. You set your chopsticks down with a quiet click, turning to finally face him. “I do have a choice.”

He smirked, head tilting slightly. “Do you?”

His confidence was infuriating. And you hated how smooth it was. You hated how he just knows he’s right. He wasn’t asking you. You knew that. He was stating, dictating as if he had already decided the outcome, as if whatever you thought didn’t really matter. And that irritated you more than anything else.

“You can’t just show up here and declare that we’re friends or something.” you snapped.

Sukuna scoffed. “Who said anything about being friends?”

That threw you off. “…Then what the hell do you want?”

He grinned, sharp and wolfish, like he had been waiting for you to ask. “Dunno. You’re interesting. Thought I’d stick around and see what you do.”

Your stomach twisted at that.

Like you were some kind of entertainment.

God, how much you wanted to curse just now.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to entertain you.”

Sukuna leaned back against the fence, completely unfazed. “Good. That’d be boring.”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to wick away the irritation bubbling under your skin. There was no point in arguing with him. The more you pushed, the more he seemed to enjoy it. So instead, you picked up your chopsticks and ignored him.

A breeze swept through the rooftop. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t speak again, but you could still feel his presence lingering beside you—heavy, unwavering, unmoving. It wasn’t a threat. Not exactly. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

And deep down, you had the unsettling feeling that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much space you tried to put between yourself and him. Sukuna had already decided. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Just like that, that conversation was over.

You watched as Sukuna leaned back against the fence again, tilting his head up toward the sky, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just decided to insert himself into your space without permission. Like it was inevitable. And deep down, no matter how much you wanted to deny it as you ate your lunch, you had a feeling he wasn’t wrong.

══════════════════

YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE NOT LET HIM DECIDE THIS ‘FRIENDSHIP’ YOU BOTH HAVE. You really should have known when to put your foot down. But you just really were not that good at getting it across as he has. This is why you were stuck in this situation. You glared as you sat there and decided that Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute menace.

Your new friend was someone who was a feared name across campus. A natural-born fighter. A troublemaker with a cocky smirk and a sharp tongue that could tear people apart just as effectively as his fists.

And yet, here he was irritating you to death with that smirk on his lips as he quipped you a new joke you absolutely hated. Here he was, sitting on the rooftop like some stray cat, drinking a strawberry milk carton and eating anpan like a child at recess.

You like to think that if he was just not making those annoying jokes and just sat down and let you watch him eat in silence, mayhaps you would be more mildly amused as he took slow sips of the sweet drink.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, hm?” Sukuna said, voice full of that lazy, smug amusement that made your eyes twitch.

You didn’t respond. Just glared. Ryomen Sukuna, looking unfazed as always, took another obnoxiously slow sip of his strawberry milk, the straw making an irritating slurping noise that set your teeth on edge.

“Let me guess…..” he continued, tapping his chin in mock thought. “You’re wondering how the hell you got stuck with me, aren’t you?”

You set your lunch down with a sharp click and gave him a look. “I wasn’t wondering. I know exactly how. You forced it.”

Sukuna grinned. “Damn right, I did.”

You wanted to throw his anpan off the roof.

It was insufferable, how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed riling you up. Lately, it was like it was his new favorite pastime. And the worst part? You weren’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just naturally this unbearable.

“You could, you know.” he mused, watching you with an almost amused curiosity.

You frowned. “Could what?”

He smirked. “Tell me to get lost. Put your foot down. Give me a real reason to leave.”

Your fingers clenched slightly, grip tightening around your chopsticks. He was daring you. Testing you. He wanted to see if you’d actually do it. And the problem was—you should. You really should. But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because despite how much he irritated you, despite how much you wanted to not be in this situation… there was a part of you that knew: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a delinquent. He wasn’t just a troublemaker or some violent, cocky bastard who liked to fight.

You knew that he was a force of nature, one that has overwhelmed you more than anything else. And trying to push him away was like trying to tell a storm to stop blowing. So instead of answering, you just scowled and turned back to your food, hoping he’d drop it.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Menace. Absolute menace.

You were never getting rid of him.

And worst of all? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to anymore.

You could only sigh as the long reach of his fingers lazily crinkled the carton. The contrast between his usual rough demeanor and this absurdly peaceful moment never failed to amuse you. More often than not, after these little breaks, he would stretch his legs out, lean against the railing, and pass out. Like clockwork.

And somehow, without either of you ever talking about it, it became a routine. You would sit beside him, pretending to read or scroll through your phone, only to glance at him as he inevitably dozed off, arms crossed, head tilting slightly to the side.

There were times when he’d wake up with a soft mutter. "Well, well, well. You’re still here, aren’t you?"

And you would always reply the same way. "Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t roll off the roof and die."

At first, he just scoffed at you.

But over time, it changed.

The thanks he used to mutter under his breath became a little clearer. The hesitation in his voice lessened. And then there were the nights when he wasn’t just tired—he was beat. Bruised knuckles, scuffed knees, a split lip that he’d wipe with the back of his hand as if it was nothing.

You had quietly started bringing bandages for him from time to time. The first time you handed him some, he stared at them like you had just offered him a kidney. It was really a pitiful sight, that look in his eyes, both of you knew that.

And yet all at once, it was interesting. That warmth you never expected to see in his eyes. One that he had never expected to feel, one that you had never expected to know.

“Don’t need ‘em right now.” he muttered.

You just stared back. “Sure you don’t.”

He clicked his tongue, but after a moment, he snatched them from your hand anyway. “Tch. You’re so damn nosy.”

That continued for a while. And somehow, that too evolved. At some point, mealtime got involved. It started with him watching you eat one day, his gaze flicking between you and your food like he was debating whether or not to ask.

“You want some?” you finally said, raising an eyebrow.

He scoffed. “No.”

Not even five minutes later, his gaze still hadn’t left your food.

You sighed. “You’re a terrible liar, goddamn. All you eat is anpan. Of course you want this.”

“Shut up.”

You ended up splitting your lunch with him that day. At times, you realized he had a bigger appetite. So you pack more and more, so you both can share more food to last you the day for energy.

You thought it would be a one off thing, but then you kept packing more and more every day. And then the next. And then the day after that. And somehow, before you even realized it, lunch breaks together on the school rooftop became another routine, like a picnic made for the two of you. Some days, you’d talk about random things between bites.

"Have you ever thought about how weird the school anthem is? Like, who wrote that?"

"Probably some dead guy, stop overthinking it." He snickers, eating the lunch you made for him.

On the other mundane days, you’d find yourselves caught up in a very serious competition over stolen playing card games he brings to school. Well, card games he finds somewhere you didn’t even want to think about.

"You pocketed these off a junior?" you asked in disbelief, shuffling the deck.

Sukuna smirked, leaning back against the railing. "Dumbass lost a bet."

"You bullied a much younger kid for this?"

"Tch. He knew the stakes."

You shook your head but still dealt the cards.

Because at this point, why not?

So, you just go with this flow, yeah.

The feared, notorious Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. But somehow, between all the rooftop naps, strawberry milk cartons, late afternoon bandages, and card games, you had carved out a space in his life. And whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t really mind.

And it’s even more weirdly freaky that you and Sukuna ended up sharing a habit of listening to music whenever you had free time. You had your own preferences, of course, but one day, when you passed him one of your earbuds, you were shocked to realize that he actually liked classical music.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently.

He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?"

"...Yes?"

"Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better."

Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?"

"Yeah? And what?"

You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed."

"What, you think I don't have taste?"

"I know you don’t have taste."

He flicked your forehead. That was the day you realized Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a brutish boy. If anything, he actually had opinions on things outside of fighting and being a bad boy. And, as it turned out, music wasn’t the only thing.

One afternoon, while you were sitting on the rooftop as usual, Ryomen Sukuna casually pulled out a book and flipped it open, acting like this was completely normal. Your whole mouth was agape to the floor, you were sure of that.

You blinked. "You read?"

He shot you a deadpan look. "No, I just stare at pages for fun."

You rolled your eyes, watching as he turned the page with the ease of someone who had definitely done this more than once. "...What’re you reading?"

"Something you wouldn’t get."

You raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Instead of answering, he tossed the book at you.

You barely caught it before flipping to the cover.

"...I’ve never heard of this one."

"Figures." he smirked, leaning back against the railing. "You read the boring stuff."

You scoffed. "Excuse me, but I read classics."

"Exactly. Boring."

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. "Oh how dare you?"

He snickers. “I’ll lend you my books, don’t worry. Now sit down and break my ear from your screaming.”

“Oh shut up!”

From then on, lending each other books became a thing. Sometimes, it was casual. Other times, it turned into heated debates over themes, characters, and why the hell Ryomen Sukuna thought the antagonist was right.

But the best part?

Every time he lent you a book, you always found little notes scribbled in the margins—much or less half of them insightful, half of them just him being an ass.

("This guy’s an idiot. Don’t be like him.")

("Bet you didn’t see that twist coming, nerd.")

("I already know you’re gonna argue with me about this part, so don’t even start.")

And you did argue.

But somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

What started as a random book exchange had slowly become something bigger. It wasn’t just about lending each other books or debating over plot twists anymore. It was the way you’d catch Ryomen Sukuna leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book you’d recommended, his brow furrowed in thought.

Or the way he’d glance at you while you read one of his books, waiting for your reaction whenever you hit a major plot point. It was subtle, but it was there. And the teasing, of course, never stopped. You caught him very obviously staring at you while you were finishing one of his books.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

He smirked. “Nah, just wondering if you finally get why I was right.”

You huffed, snapping the book shut. “You’re not right.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t!”

“Okay, okay.” he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s hear it then, Professor. Enlighten me.”

You scooted closer, pointing aggressively at a passage in the book. “Alright, listen, in this part—”

And that was how you both spent an entire afternoon, passionately arguing over fictional characters like it was a life-or-death situation.

Then came the day you discovered something else. Something about yourself.

And all it took was another day, another afternoon spent on the rooftop.

The sun was warm but not unbearable, the breeze just strong enough to rustle your hair as you leaned against the railing. Beside you, Sukuna sat cross-legged, nursing his beloved cold and fresh strawberry milk carton like it was some kind of divine nectar.

He tilted his head back, taking a long sip before letting out a very satisfied sigh. “Damn, this never gets old.”

You side-eyed him. “You sound like an old man reminiscing about his youth.”

“Tch.” He shot you a lazy smirk. “Better an old man than a nerd who stays up all night studying.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “How dare you insult my commitment to academia?”

Sukuna chuckled, reaching into his pocket before casually pulling out a deck of cards. “Alright, nerd. Put your commitment to good use and try to beat me today.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you cheat at this?”

He raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Would I ever?”

“Yes.”

Before he could retort, the rooftop door slammed open, and a very familiar, very exasperated voice rang out. “There you are!”

Both of you turned to see one of your classmates panting at the doorway, hands on their knees.

They pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You skipped the study group!”

Sukuna turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh? Nerd’s skipping study group? Scandalous.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It’s one session.”

“You never skip.” Your classmate shot a pointed glance at Sukuna, then back at you, suspicion creeping into their features. “Wait. Are you guys dating?”

You froze. “H–huh? What the—”

Ryomen Sukuna—because he was Ryomen Sukuna—immediately grinned like the menace he was.

“Damn, caught in the act, babe.” he drawled, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You smacked his arm away, face heating up. “Oh my god, shut up!”

Your classmate screeched. “You didn’t deny it—”

“BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT!” you practically shouted, shoving Sukuna off as he cackled at your suffering.

“Uh-huh.” they said, clearly not convinced. “I’m telling everyone—”

Sukuna smirked. “Go ahead. Maybe then everyone will finally stop flirting with her and I won’t have to glare at every idiot who tries.”

Your classmate’s jaw dropped. “Oh we’re at that level now, huh?”

You, on the other hand, were about two seconds away from exploding. “SUKUNA—”

“Tch, what? I’m just saying what we both know.”

“WE BOTH KNOW NOTHING.”

But even as you yelled at him, he just leaned back, smug as ever, sipping the last of his strawberry milk like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb on you and everyone with his stupid conversations.

And somehow, despite the absolute chaos he always brought into your life, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You would choose to be by his side if you were given the choice. Both you knew it too.

══════════════════

HE NEVER REALLY THOUGHT IT WOULD GO THIS FAR. But he doesn’t think he can enjoy going to school without seeing you on the rooftop with him. This is what entices him to even want to go to school. Slowly but surely, Ryomen Sukuna began to enjoy himself in your presence like this.

At first, it was subtle. So subtle that even he barely noticed it. The way his shoulders loosened when he was around you. The way his scowl softened when you teased him. The way he didn’t mind sharing his space, his food, his time with you.

Slowly but surely, he found himself eager for your attention more and more. It started with little things. Like how he’d glance at you first when he finally made a really good joke, just to see if you were laughing.

Or how, even in a crowded room, his eyes instinctively sought you out. How he’d nudge you with his knee when he was bored, just to get you to acknowledge him.

It was annoying. This thing he felt whenever you weren’t near. But you were the only true constant he had, you were the only one that he could find as permanence in the life lived with change. The only one who hadn’t turned away. The only one who didn’t look at him like he was some monster.

And one day, that thought made him stop in his tracks.

You weren’t looking at him badly at all.

You never had, even when you first met him.

Which made no damn sense.

One late afternoon, as you sat together on the rooftop, the sky a deep shade of blue hour in its peak indigo, Ryomen Sukuna found himself blurting out the question that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

“…Why do you stay by my side?”

You looked up from your book, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“I don’t get it.” He leaned back, arms crossed, frowning. “Why the hell do you hang around me? Everyone else either avoids me or wants something from me. But you just—”

"What?" You asked him.

He scowled, struggling to find the right words. “You just stay.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Because you’re interesting.”

He stared at you like you had grown a second head. “That’s your reason?”

“Yup.”

Sukuna scoffed. “You saw me beat a guy half to death on the first day.”

You laughed, shrugging. “But didn’t you do that because he was looking under a girl’s skirt?”

He paused at your words.

Suddenly, it was just a click.

Something in his chest clicked in place.

He hadn’t even thought about it back then. It wasn’t like he had done it to be some noble hero, he just didn’t like creeps. It was as simple as that. But the fact that you saw it that way? That you had been watching him just as closely as he had been watching you?

It made his ears burn hot red.

“Tch.” He looked away, clicking his tongue. “Still dumb of you to stick around for that.”

You grinned, nudging his arm. “Nah. I think I made a pretty good choice. I mean there were other things that came with that.”

And damn it, he hated how much he liked hearing that.

From that moment on, something shifted between you and Sukuna. Well, at least for him. He wouldn’t say it out loud—not yet, at least—but he had stopped questioning why you stayed. Maybe it was because you weren’t afraid of him.

Maybe it was because you always had a way of looking at him that made him feel like he wasn’t just some guy people feared. Maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself to someone. You were just there.

And somehow, that was enough for him.

But of course, he wasn’t about to get all sappy about it.

He doesn’t dare be that loud about it.

“Alright, genius.” He leaned back, arms crossed, watching you scribble some scientific formula on your massive notepad. “If I’m so interesting, what’s the most interesting thing about me?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “You pretend to be meaner than you are.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Tch. Pretend?”

“Mhm.” You smirked. “You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You literally gave that stray cat your milk carton last week, Sukuna.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re still on about that?”

“Because it was cute, wasn’t it?” you teased, grinning. “You wanted to take it home with you and nurse it back to health!”

“I will throw you off this rooftop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me.”

And maybe it was the way you were always ready to challenge him, the way you never backed down. Maybe it was the way you could see through him like no one else ever had. Either way, Ryomen Sukuna was doomed.

He was already losing the battle.

Because as much as he’d never admit it, he liked that you stayed.

He liked that you were there with him.

It wasn’t often that Ryomen Sukuna hesitated, that in itself was a fact to everyone you dare ask. But in the moment after that as he watched you continue to scribble on your notepad, he found himself struggling even more. He couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, to stall, or to act shy about something he wanted. When he set his sights on something, he took it, it was as simple as that. But now, as he sat beside you as he watched you, hands shoved in his pockets, lips pressed together in an almost pout, he looked… hesitant. Which was weird.

You tilted your head. “What’s up with you, Sukuna? You were just fine earlier. I mean you were alright with the banter. Now you’re stunned to silence again.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, eyes flickering away. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” You snickered, not looking up at him. “You don’t lose your words with it being nothing.”

His furrowed brows twitched, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He wanted to say something. You just had to be patient. “…I’m gonna try out for the volleyball team.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

He gave a slow nod, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I just….thought I need a new leaf.”

“Well, that’s good on you, Sukuna! Less fights, more rights—but on court!”

“Hey, I’m left handed!”

You giggled. “Just kidding.”

And now that you really looked at him, you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted slightly at his sides, how his usual sharp expression was replaced by something almost… uncertain. You could see the red echo all over his face and neck and even his ears.

That was when it hit you.

He wanted to ask you to come.

He wanted you there.

You opened your mouth, but before he could get a single word out, you grinned and butted in. “I’ll be there.”

Sukuna blinked. “Huh?”

“You were gonna ask me to come, right?” You nudged him playfully. “So, yeah. I’ll be there. Front row seat.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, lips parting slightly like he was searching for some kind of response. Then, he scowled, clicking his tongue. “Annoying.”

You laughed. “You love it.”

“Debatable.” But despite his grumbling, you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into the smallest smile.

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna, someone who never asked for anyone’s approval had finally found something he wanted even more than volleyball. He wanted you to see him win. He wanted to see you there when he got his uniform and his place on the team.

“You’re really cute right now, do you know that?”

“Huh? Who are you callin’ cute?”

“Sukuna, give me back my notepad, you tall jerk!”

“Reach for it, shorty!”

══════════════════

epilogue

It started as a normal post-practice dinner, like it always was. It was normal, meaning loud and chaotic thanks to Gojo and Geto and how they roped Yuuji into their antics. The seven of you were packed into your usual corner booth, plates stacked high, drinks half-empty, and conversation buzzing with easy banter.

Then Itadori Yuuji—bless his pure, curious heart—asked the question that sealed Sukuna’s fate. “So… how did you guys even meet?”

You paused, chopsticks mid-air. “Oh, uh…. What do you wanna know?”

The bright-eyed junior smiled at you. “As much as you wanna say, senpai!”

Captain Ryomen Sukuna, who had just taken a bite of pork cutlet, froze. He slowly chewed, scarlet eyes darting toward you like he was calculating whether he should trust you with the answer. Big mistake.

Gojo immediately leaned in. “Oh-ho-ho, now this I wanna hear.”

Geto grinned, leaning back at the white haired vice-captain. “Yeah, you guys never really told us the full story.”

Megumi groaned. “And you really don’t need to.”

Nanami merely sighed, but there was a tiny flicker of interest in his otherwise indifferent expression. You turned to your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna with the smuggest look ever. He turned to you, panicked and horrified.

You smirked. “Wanna tell them, my love?”

His eyes twitched. “I hate when you say it like that, so damn mischievous.”

Gojo gasped, delighted. “Wait. You call senpai babe, but she can’t call you babe? Oh my god. This is so good.”

Sukuna shot him a deadly glare. “Do you want me to stab you with my chopsticks? And again, we talked about this. I like being called my love by my girl or nothing.”

"Aw, I'm your girl?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch later with your stuffed bunny."

"My love, that's just cruel!" You pouted.

His eyes falters as he lowers his head and blushes. "Goddamn it."

Megumi snickers, leaning back. "Are we just gonna skip over the captain liking bunny plushies?"

Sukuna looks up. "I'm going to throttle you."

Gojo shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

Geto snorted, turning to you. “Anyway, go on and spill, senpai!”

You grinned at him, leaning into the table. “We met in middle school. Sukuna was a menace.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Was?”

“Fine, is.”

Megumi muttered, “Glad we’re acknowledging it, senpai.”

Ignoring them, you continued, “The first time I saw him, he was absolutely wrecking some guy in a fight.”

Yuuji choked on his drink. “HUH???”

Megumi sighed. “Of course senpai was a delinquent.”

“But, but—” You raised a finger. “The guy was really horrible. Sukuna saw that he was looking under another junior’s girl’s skirt and it was making the girl feel horrible, so he jumped in and he started a fight.”

Gojo cackled. “Oh my god, senpai! You saw him commit to beating a guy in a fight and thought, ‘wow, what a prince.’”

Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You patted his back, grinning. “He didn’t get into fights without reason, don’t worry! Anyway, I stuck around. And before he knew it, he couldn’t get rid of me.”

Sukuna grumbled, “Yeah, you were annoying.”

“Were?”

He sighed, already regretting his entire existence. “Fine. Are.”

Yuuji grinned. “So basically… you made the first move?”

Sukuna sat up, looking deeply offended. “No.”

Nanami, who had been quietly sipping his tea, suddenly added, “You were the one who asked senpai to come to your volleyball tryouts.”

Sukuna turned to him, betrayed. “I thought you didn’t get involved in stupid conversations, Nanami.”

“I don’t.” Nanami set his cup down calmly. “But this is funny.”

Gojo howled. “Oh, this is fantastic. Loverboy Ryomem Sukuna actually invited senpai first! Was, he blushing, senpai?”

You grinned. “Hm, he was!”

Geto smirked. “You know what that means, right? That means you made the first move, cap!”

“I DID NOT.”

“You definitely did, captain.” Megumi muttered.

You grinned, resting your chin on your palm. “Face it, my love. Like it or not, you love me with everything you’ve got.”

Sukuna grumbled, looking away, ears red. “Tch. Tolerate is a better word.”

But the way he let you lean against him, the way his fingers brushed against yours under the table?

Yeah, you grinned.

You knew the truth.

And that’s why Sukuna was suffering.

Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

And he loved you for it, more than anything.

Gojo and Geto were thriving off his pain, Megumi looked like he wanted to die just by being associated with this conversation, and Nanami, the one person who usually had self-control, had actually joined in on roasting him.

Worst of all? You were sitting there, all smug and grinning, as if you weren’t the reason his dignity was being publicly executed.

"Okay, okay." Yuuji laughed, leaning forward eagerly. "So when did you two actually start dating? Who said I love you first?"

Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why are we still talking about this?"

"Because it's hilarious, captain!" Gojo said, sipping his drink with a shit-eating grin.

"You guys are acting like this is some historical event!" Sukuna muttered.

"You being in a relationship is basically a historical event, you know that, right?" Megumi deadpanned.

Nanami somewhat agreed. “It’s hard to know how to keep you settled, captain.”

“That’s going to earn you both more burpees!”

You giggled, reaching over to flick Sukuna’s ear. “Come on, tell them how you said it first.”

Sukuna scowled at you. “I didn’t say it first.”

"You so did, huh?" Geto smirked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Sukuna shot him a murderous glare. "No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did." you chirped, grinning.

Gojo perked up like he lived for this drama. "Wait, wait, wait—so the captain said I love you first?! Oh, this is damn gold."

Nanami took a sip of his drink, looking mildly interested. "How did this happen?"

Sukuna crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. "It was not a confession. It was—"

"A moment of weakness?" Megumi guessed dryly.

"A lapse in judgment?" Geto suggested.

"A divine miracle?" Gojo threw in, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, looking at you like you were his final lifeline. He then looked at the other boys. “Multiple running laps on Monday.”

You, of course, were having too much fun. "Oh, it was so cute."

Sukuna groaned. "I swear to god—"

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, waving your hand. "I'll tell the story."

Sukuna immediately collapsed onto the table in defeat. “Jesus Christ—”

"So, one night after one of his games, Sukuna was exhausted—”

"As one is after carrying an entire team, mind you." Sukuna muttered.

You ignored him. "And he was so tired, he wasn’t really thinking before he spoke."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "The captain? Not thinking before he speaks? Shocking!"

You continued, undeterred. "So we were just sitting there, and I handed him a drink, and he just sighs and goes, ‘Man, I love you.’"

An echo of sudden silence.

Then the entire table erupted into chaos.

"NO. WAY." Yuuji nearly choked on his drink.

"AND IT WAS CASUAL? JUST LIKE THAT?" Gojo cackled.

"Disgusting." Megumi muttered, sipping his drink like he wasn’t deeply entertained.

Geto wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Damn. Our boy is whipped."

Sukuna, face fully buried in his hands, groaned. "I was tired!"

Nanami, who was enjoying himself far too much, nodded. "Ah. So it was an accidental confession."

You giggled, patting Sukuna’s back. "And then when I stared at him, all shocked, he tried to walk it back and was like, ‘Wait, no, I didn’t mean—’"

Sukuna slammed his forehead on the table. "I HATE YOU."

"Love you too, my love." you cooed sweetly, kissing his cheek.

Gojo nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "OH MY GOD, CAPTAIN! YOU’RE A LOSER."

Yuuji wiped tears from his eyes. "Man, I love this."

Megumi sighed. "This has been the worst meal of my life."

"Best meal of my life." Geto grinned.

Nanami sighed. "This shit makes me want a girlfriend."

Sukuna looked up, glaring at everyone. "I regret ever meeting you all."

"You love us." Gojo said, waving him off.

"No. I love her. Even if she's a fucking menace." Sukuna jabbed a finger at you. "I tolerate the rest of you."

You beamed, leaning into his side. "See? That was an intentional confession."

Sukuna groaned as the table roared with laughter again. “Why are we going through life like this?”

You smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I love you!"

Okay, maybe tonight was worth it.

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dix0nspretty · 1 day ago

Text

Baby Treatment

Summary: Price's partner had a rough day, so he decides to let Daddy take care of baby.

Captain John Price x GN!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: N/A

TW: Age play, usage of 'baby' and similar names for reader, 'Daddy' used for Price. Should be gender-neutral throughout.

Day 2 of my bastardized version of Russian Roulette Febuwhump/Kinktober for March that I'm affectionately calling Trinket's Cause of Death. It's basically 50/50 whump/kink where I generate a number corresponding to a prompt.

Day 2: Age play with Price (kink)

“- and then I dropped my phone in a puddle, and I missed lunch and then my boss yelled at me,” you continue to ramble to John about your day, seating cozy in his lap. His hand is running gently through your hair, scratching at your scalp as the other rubs your thigh at a lazy pace. You came home from work to greet John, who is actually home for once and not sequestered away on base or in some foreign country, but your attitude immediately caught his attention with a raised brow.

“What’s wrong with my baby, hmm? What happened, sweetheart?” The croon in his soft, loving voice was all it took to have you bursting into tears and rambling about your day. He slipped your shoes off for you and corralled you into the bedroom as you rambled, pulling you into his lap and handing you a stuffed animal to hold before wrapping you up in those strong, capable arms. “Tell me about today, kiddo.”

“Today sucked,” you summarize with a teary sniffle as you stay curled in his lap, being soothed under his touches. “I don’t wanna do an-anything else today. I don’t wanna.” “Shhhh, kiddo,” John croons into your ear and rubs your thigh gently. “I know. Why won’t you let Daddy take care of his baby, yeah? Work all this tension out?” His hand running over your scalp and the fabric of your pants has you wet and the idea of surrendering control entirely to your partner for a little bit has you nodding out consent. “Yeah…” “Let’s get you up then,” he murmurs and shifts your entire body like you weigh nothing. You might as well, with how much he can bench. “Hold tight to your stuffie, love, wouldn’t want to lose him.” How the Captain manages to scoop you up as if you’re actually a small child is a feat of strength you’d normally tease him about if you weren’t so ready to give up on thinking and controlling and being anything other than good for John. He pulls the blankets back and deposits you into the soft sheets, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The whine you let out when he leaves the bed has the man laughing softly. “Hush, baby, be good. Just turning the lights down, love. I’m coming back for ya.”

And come back he does. He turns the main lights off so the bedroom is lit only by the fading evening glow and the few bedside lamps, a gentle orange lighting helping to subconsciously ease the tension from your body. John gently rearranges your body so he can undress you, crooning out praises and compliments as he strips each article of clothing off. “Look at those pretty feet,” A gentle kiss to the top of your foot in his hand as he peels your socks off. “These strong calves keeping you up all day,” A kiss to the muscle. “Your tired little knees,” Another kiss. “Capable thighs.” Another. “Abs,” kiss, “Tummy keeping you fed,” kiss, “Arms,” kiss. Hands, wrists, shoulders, neck, chin, and finally a soft and languid kiss to your lips. Not pushing or taking but giving. Giving you peace and relaxation and the ability to let go and trust he’ll catch you. Every time you have a day like this, where you act brattier and a little childish, where you need to relinquish control over to someone else, John’s here for you. Ready and capable of easing fully into that Daddy role he always partially has with you. Ready to pamper his sweet baby and make sure you don’t have to think about anything except being taken care of.

He trails kisses over every available stretch of skin as he works you to a state you can take him in with one hand. The other, large and warm and scraping so nicely with the callouses of someone who knows work, is running up and down the curve of your side and hips. “There you go, sweetheart,” John whispers to you as he finally sinks in, inch by maddening inch until your hips are flush and the only thing you can focus on is being full. “There, focus on Daddy. Let me make it go away, all that stress and tension. Just focus on me. Yeah?” Only once an acceptance is given does he start to move, each roll of his hips slow and filled with intention to please you. John knows what you need and it’s not dominant, rough Price. You need loving and gentleness, and he’ll give that to you. He swallows up each cry and moans from your lips with kisses just as soft and languid as his thrusts, dragging at a pace that ensures you gain maximum pleasure. In and out, in and out… “Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he groans into your throat. “So well. Good job, baby, there you go. Doesn’t that feel nice? My pretty little angel, all nice and warm and behaving so perfectly for Daddy. Good, honey, good.”

John bullies your walls so perfectly, more familiar with your body than you are by now. He knows the exact spots to bump with the wet tip of his cock, how you’ll pulsate and flutter around him if he does this… “Feel that? Feel Daddy making his baby feel better?” One of those familiar hands settles on your abdomen and presses down, drawing an arch and a moan from your lips. He can’t deny that watching you cry out so sweetly and fumbling to hold onto him strokes his ego just a bit. “Yeah, you hold onto me. Hold onto me and don’t hold back. Stop thinking. I can hear those little gears trying to turn.” Even with his release so close, his balls drawing up tight and just begging to fill you up, he’s going to gift you two orgasms at least before giving himself to satisfaction. What kind of Daddy would he be if he didn’t take care of his baby first and foremost? “I feel how close you are, love,” He murmurs into your ear, keeping you in missionary and split open on his cock so he can keep an eye on you. No ability to hide away, just eye contact and intense connection, in more ways than one. “Don’t bother holding it back. Just let go, baby. I’ll give you more, pretty, just let go.” “Johnnn,” his name spills from cock-drunk lips, tears gathering in your eyes from the pleasure and ecstasy you can just barely touch. One of those strong hands wraps around your jaw and gently guides you to keep eye contact. “Try again, pretty…” your partner chides even as he never stops his hips. The gentle disappointment is worse than if he left you high and dry and you sniffle wetly, shaking as the hot molten ball in your stomach begs to fall apart. You’re quick to fix your mistake as you come, arching under his body with a cry of his name. “Daddy. Daddy, Daddy-” He talks you through your release as he continues that delicious slow drag through your walls, even as your body fights to simultaneously evict him or drag him even deeper into you. “There you go, sweetheart. There you go, don’t you look so perfect like this? What a pretty, handsome baby. Doin’ so well for me, taking me so good.”

Once you decide to tap out for the night, he administers the best aftercare of your life. John draws a warm bath and washes every inch of your skin and hair, feeding you the snack he prepares for you every time he provides aftercare. Consistency is key. He reminds you repeatedly of how good you were as he dries your body off and gets you into a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts, how sweet and perfect you are and how much he loves you while changing the sheets and getting you tucked into his chest. “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” John murmurs into your damp hair with a kiss. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And you know he will be, with a plate of delicious food and plenty of water. Only the best for his baby.

#captain john price #john price #captain price #cod price #price call of duty #barry sloane #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #john price smut #18+ mdni #dix0nspretty fics #Trinket's Cause of Death #TCoD Day 2

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moon-ttokki-x · 2 days ago

Note

oh my god I’m stupid I requested 8, 9, and 39 for the SKZ prompt list but I forgot to ask for which member. Bangchan pretty please 🥺👉👈

hihi this took so long sorry >< . . . this is a lot more angsty than anticipated but i hope it works. i wrote it a little differently that i normally would, but here you go, love~~

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader)

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: chan has never noticed how you feel for him, and one fateful evening, you let it all spill.

genre: angsty as hell, idol!au, reader lowkey enters their villain era, mentions of eating and drinking, overexcited maknaes, chan is kinda oblivious in this fic ngl, supportive felix, itzy mentions (yeji, ryujin, chaeryoung if that counts ig), this is super sad tbh

a/n: this took a while tbh . . . div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

⛓️ prompts: 8. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." / 9. "You can rest now." / 39. "I can't keep pretending I'm fine."

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

"Y/n, do you wanna come to that ramen restaurant with us later?" Jisung tugs at your arm, skipping alongside you. "We've been wanting to go for ages, and we all finally have schedules off tonight."

"Yeah, come with us," Jeongin adds. "It'll be fun."

The maknaes are tagging all around you as you walk down the hallway, trying your best to keep a hold on all the papers you're carrying. It's difficult when they're fluttering around you like overexcited birds.

You'd taken the job at JYPE around four months ago; it was decided after a very long period of doubting and worrying that it wouldn't work out after what happened at your last workplace. But your best friend, Chan, had been super supportive throughout the whole thing, even offering to help you move into your little apartment down the road from the company. He'd brought some of his friends to help with the heavy lifting, and from there, you'd pretty much been adopted into the group he'd formed and was the leader of.

Not like you had a choice in the first place.

But you didn't mind; you'd been worried partly because of the fact that you wouldn't have any friends when you'd moved to this part of Korea; Chan had managed to inadvertently solve that issue without trying. Now, the four excitable boys skipped and bickered around you as you set down the papers on your office desk. Wiping the minimal sweat from your forehead, you sighed and pried Seungmin away from the trinkets neatly lining your bookshelf.

"Who else is going?" You ask as Jisung whines about you coming to the restaurant for the umpteenth time.

Seungmin shrugs, interrupting his friend. "All of the members, you, and a couple of the girls from our dance crew."

You feel your heart sink just as your brain tells you to agree; it's been ages since you went out with the guys, and you honestly couldn't wait for a break. Work was always stressful around comeback season, but you'd all settled into the rhythm of it soon enough. Spending an evening out with eight of your best friends eating some soul food sounded like a good idea. A better idea than spending the evening on the couch in your apartment, eating ice cream in complete silence. Alone.

You bite your lip, anticipating. "Which of the dance crew girls?"

Jeongin shrugs from the sofa, swinging his legs over a disgusted Seungmin's lap as he lounges back. "The usuals; Yeji, Ryujin, Young-hee, and Chae. Why?"

"No reason," you say, turning back to the bookshelf to unnecessarily reorganise something, fiddling with the solid fabric spine of one of your books. "I'll let you know if I'm coming. Now, clear out."

Your last comment doesn't bother the maknaes at all; they know you don't like your office being messed up, so they call goodbyes, and Jisung sneakily pokes your side as he filters out the door. Felix, however, remains.

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and keep a neutral expression as you turn the dark-haired boy. He looks so different from his usual blonde-haired countenance; however, no less beautiful, and not for the first time do you hold yourself back from carding your fingers affectionately through his hair.

You exhale. "Do you need something, Lix?"

He sits down on your chair, swinging it backwards and leaning his forearms across the back. An air of resignation flows around him. "You're not coming tonight, are you?"

You bite your lip. "I'll see."

His voice is quiet. "You've said that since Chae started hanging around us. Is it because of her?"

You scoff, dropping a pen. "No. Why would you think that?"

Felix leans forward on the chair, nosy. "It is because of her, isn't it? Do you not like her? Is it because of Chan-hyung?"

You whip around to face him, exasperated. The explanation bubbles out of you like molten lava from a temperamental volcano. "Okay, fine! I just- I can't stand seeing her around him. They're so close, and they always seem so wrapped up in each other-"

You cut yourself off then, not wanting to say anything you might regret. Chae is nice enough; she's never done anything explicitly hurtful towards you, though you secretly have suspicions that she doesn't like you at all. But you stay quiet, trying to dissipate the rising frustration blooming in your chest.

Felix is quiet.

You know he knows; he's known for ages about your little crush on his leader. You were afraid to tell him, once upon a time; but all you got in response from the affectionate chicken boy was a hushed giggle and a gentle encouragement to tell Chan how you feel. He hasn't told anyone else about your feelings, and you know he would continue to keep his mouth shut. But you wish, even just a little, that someone else would notice and find a way to get Chae away from your best friend.

"No wonder she likes him too," you say quietly to yourself, sinking into your office chair.

And it isn't a wonder, really. Chan is sweet, and gentle, and kind, and so, so, supportive and admirable. There's not a single flaw about him, except perhaps his slight dislike towards himself and his irritation when it comes to those soft, dark curls that frame his perfect face so perfectly-

You shake yourself out of it. Felix is still looking at you quietly, his head tilted in thought.

"You do know," he says carefully, "that you're closer with Chan that Chae is?"

"But still," you groan. "He always seems so much happier around her, and he always only talks to her when you all go out-"

"How would you know?" Felix cries, throwing his hands up. "You're not even there half the time, and Chan only talks to her because you're not there for him to talk to. He has to settle for her because he's fed up of us, and he's not close with Yeji, Ryujin, or Young-hee."

You sigh and hop up onto the desk, swinging your legs over the side. "I just can't stand it, Lix. Seeing them together..."

His expression softens. "I know, Y/n, and I know how frustrated you get when they're all over each other, but you have to at least try. Come with us. If not for him, then for us. We miss you."

"I'm right here."

Felix sighs softly. "That's not what I meant."

You rub two fingers along the bridge of your nose, trying to think straight. You can't get the images out of your mind; Chan and Chae giggling to each other, her touching his arm, him reciprocating the affection... no one said it would hurt this bad when you watch your best friend fall for someone else.

No one said it would hurt this much when you realise that you're in love with said best friend either.

"I can't keep pretending I'm fine," you say, so softly you're not sure Felix hears it. But he does.

"Then don't pretend," he urges gently. "Get him to fall for you. You're halfway there already, I'm pretty sure. But it's not gonna happen if you're always at a distance from him."

He has a point, you think. But, being as stubborn as you are, there's still that nagging doubt in the back of your mind that Chan will never feel the same way that you do, whether you're with him or not-

"Y/n," Felix says, a little more firmly.

You know exactly what he's thinking; sighing, and then bending down to pick up the pen you dropped earlier, you slot it back into the holder on the desk.

"Fine," you say quietly, trying and failing to hide the tiny smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. "I'll come."

Felix lets out a whoop.

You pull your jacket a little closer around yourself as you head round the corner, the evening wind whipping your hair into a state of extreme disarray. Sighing and then spluttering as you pull strands of it out of your mouth and eyes, you duck around people and head to the restaurant, its warm, golden light drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You're not late, so to speak; you spot the group sitting at a large corner booth with comfy seats, mingling and chattering, and you notice Felix immediately. His face lights up when he sees you, half with relief and half with something else you can't quite decipher. He makes to get up before you're almost tackled to the floor by Jisung and Jeongin, who are pretty much hollering at the top of their lungs.

Minho shushes them insistently as he tugs them off you, bowing before shoving both maknaes back into their seats.

"Y/n," Jeongin says happily. "We didn't think you'd come."

You chuckle awkwardly and settle into the spot next to Felix, trying not to look around for Chan like you always do. "Yeah, I needed a break. Besides, you two would have come for my throat if I turned the invitation down one more time."

"Damn right," Jisung interjects, all three of you dissolving into giggles.

You look around then; not everyone is here. Hyunjin and Yeji are still missing, both Hwangs late as per usual, and you know Changbin will come by a little later, having decided to work out before treating himself for the evening. You make a mental note to stick to your work ethic as well as he does, but it's interrupted by the familiar tone of someone speaking your name.

"You look nice, Y/n," Chan says from next to Felix, who is sitting in between both of you.

Chae is sitting next to Chan, you notice with some sadness and displeasure; her long, pinky-blonde hair is straight and neat, long acrylic nails coming up to brush strands of it off her perfect porcelain cheeks, flushed with the cold. At least, you hope it's the cold and not the effect of Chan's probably flirting before you arrived.

Despite the indignance rising in your stomach, you can't help but notice how Chan looks tonight; his hair is slightly damp from the chilly weather outside, the adorably messy strands of it curling against his temples and nape. His eyes are crescents as he gazes into yours, and you fight the urge to reach over and wipe the faint remainder of strawberry milk off the curve of his plush bottom lip.

You know exactly where he'd bought the little drink carton of it from; there's a vending machine just down the street, one that the boys always buy drinks from before eating out. It was their tradition, and one that you gladly partook in, that is before you became too shy to be around the boys.

Because of Chan and his stupid perfectness.

You suddenly come back down to earth and realise that Chan is still gazing at you; Chae is laughing obnoxiously loud in the background behind him, no doubt to recapture his attention, but all you can focus on is the fact that you're locking eyes with the most beautiful person on earth. And also the fact that you haven't replied to his little indirect compliment, so you just nod and turn back to the table to fiddle with the menu in front of you.

Felix exhales discreetly and you fight a grin, watching as he unpeels himself from the corner of the table. He'd been bending over it so you could lean back to talk to Chan, and he pokes you affectionately in the side as you thank him quietly, clearing your throat in an attempt to get rid of the flush painting your cheeks.

"Could've warned me about how pretty he looks," you mutter to Felix under your breath. He just chuckles and touches your knee as everyone begins to order.

The food arrives just as Hyunjin, Yeji, and Changbin make their dramatically late entrance; they clatter noisily into their seats, and you bump fists with Yeji just as everyone begins to dig in.

There's brief silence as everyone begins to fill their stomachs with soul food, and then the chatter eventually rises again as the members turn to each other to bicker and laugh. You almost snort a noodle out of your mouth as you watch Hyunjin take a hairclip out of his bag to clip his hair back, before realising it's not there. Seungmin, sitting next to him, runs his hand through the boy's kiwi-like hair before turning back to his ramen.

You almost start to enjoy yourself, but there's still that lingering tension that you feel rests in the air between you and Chan; if anyone else has noticed it, they're not saying anything. Felix, noticing your quietness, tries to fill the space between you with small talk and jokes, but it doesn't seem to help. Once or twice, he even brings Chan into the conversation in a bid to try and get you two to converse, but Chae interjects more and more frequently until you quietly tell Felix to stop.

You feel bad because of it; you know he's just trying to help, but it isn't working. And it's beginning to make you feel worse, the fact that it seems not even the dark-haired sunshine boy can get his leader to try and talk to you. And you realise, all of a sudden, that maybe it's not Chan that's the problem.

There are two possible reasons that Chan doesn't seem to want to talk to you; you thought maybe he would talk more with you tonight, considering it's been so long since you've been out with them, but you're crestfallen as you realise that not more than a few words have been exchanged between the two of you tonight.

And it strangely breaks your heart.

The other reason is that Chae might have been badmouthing you behind your back to Chan, or it could be because of the fact that Chan genuinely likes her. You're not sure, but that belief is confirmed as you look across to see Chan holding out his chopsticks to her, bringing a piece of tempura to her perfect, pink lips.

Watching in horror and completely forgetting about the cooling ramen in front of you, you watch as Chae accepts the tempura with a little giggle, batting her lashes at Chan as he reaches up to wipe a crumb off her lip. The sight is so equally disgusting and upsetting that you immediately stand up, moving out of the booth as tears blur your eyes.

"Where are you going?" Jisung calls after you, Felix looking up from his food.

"Bathroom," you call over your shoulder, your voice surprisingly strong considering the fact that tears and beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Not wanting to make a fuss or arouse suspicion from the group, you do actually head to the bathrooms, locking the cubicle door behind you and sinking down against the door. You couldn't care less if it's dirty right now, the only thought in your head the mental image of your best friend and Chae giggling and flirting all over each other, blissfully unaware of your misery.

It's not fair.

"Maybe it's me," you whisper to yourself, sniffling as you rip off a piece of toilet paper, scrubbing at your face. You feel so pathetic and unworthy; what kind of person hides out in the bathroom crying over a guy who probably doesn't even care about them?

Standing up and checking you have your phone and wallet, you sigh as you feel the weight of them in your pockets. Good. You can just leave without having to go back to the table. The last thing you want right now is to talk to anyone, or have to put up a fake cheerful front.

Heading to the back of the restaurant, the once-inviting golden lights now feeling like a spotlight, you emerge out into the street, the cold wind soothing the hot, sticky tear irritation on your cheeks. You head to the parking garage down the street and try to walk as quickly as you can past the opening of the ramen restaurant, lest any of the group notice you walking away.

And they don't, not least until you cross the street and head down the dimly light footpath.

Someone grabs your wrist suddenly and you cry out, whipping your head back so fast to see who it is you think you might have whiplash.

Chan is standing there, his hand solid and warm around your wrist, the wind ruffling his dark hair back from his bare face. You can see the glint of his silver earrings under the streetlights.

"Wait," he pants. "Where are you going?"

You can't fight the hot, wet tear rolling down your cheek and inwardly curse it for escaping. "Home."

"Why?" He asks, concern and worry painting his expression. "Are you not feeling well?"

You fight the urge to slap him; it wouldn't be fair, however much you want to do it. He just doesn't understand. He doesn't understand any of it. And you want nothing more to run into his arms and spill all your thoughts and feelings like you have so many times before, but you can't.

Not this time.

You can't tell Chan that you've loved him since who knows how long; that seeing him makes your heart feel lighter, the way a high schooler might feel seeing their crush in the sunny hallways. You can't tell him how many times you styled your hair to look a little like his, hoping the curls that make him look so handsome might make you a little more attractive too. You can't tell him how many times you ran late for schedules just because you took a detour to his studio to talk with him, even if it was just for a minute.

Even if all of it was a waste in the end. Because he likes someone else, and that someone else isn't you.

So you just shake your head as the tears come streaming down, and rip your wrist out of his grip before turning and walking away. The earth feels like it's shattering around you.

Or maybe that's just your heart.

But Chan doesn't give up; you hear his footsteps continue behind you, hurried and irregular, like he's trying to decide whether to let you go or make you stay.

"Y/n," he pants. "Wait, just- will you stop walking so fast? Please, wait, slow down- What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong!" You cry out, turning to face him as you throw your hands up. A sob rips through your lungs, face contorting with the force of your tears. "Okay? Everything's wrong."

Chan is silent, one hand out in an unsteady attempt to calm you. "What are you talking about? You're worrying me."

You scoff and kick a stone across the footpath, harshly rubbing a hand across your cheekbone.

"Y/n, please," he pleads, his voice quieter. "Felix noticed you were gone for too long earlier, and I saw you walking out of the restaurant. Please, tell me what's wrong. You look so upset."

"Then stop looking."

He recoils, looking slightly hurt, before it's overtaken by a look of determination. You know that look; it either results in an all-nighter to finish a song track, an attempt to wrangle seven naughty kids, or a hard-to-have conversation. You know it's the last one.

"Please," he says, even quieter. "Tell me what's wrong. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's you," you say, broken with utter resignation.

He takes a step forward. "What?"

"It's you," you repeat, looking away as another hysterical sob brings the wind inside your body. It's sharp and biting, and it brings back some of your courage. But only some.

You raise your eyes to look at him. Maybe this is the last conversation you'll have with Chan, before he decides he doesn't want to be around someone who's in a one-way love story with him. Even if that person is his best friend.

"You don't realise, do you?" You whisper brokenly. "You never realised I was in love with you, Chan. But that's just who you are. You may be kind and compassionate and intuitive, but you never realised why I do what I do, or why I act the way I act around you."

His face is contorted in utter disbelief; whether it's from shock or disgust, you don't want to know.

"I realised around the time you helped me move in," you continue. Might as well get all of it out now. "I looked at you differently after a while. I didn't see my best friend anymore. I saw someone else, someone stronger and more clever and more dedicated and more perfect and flawless. And it was strange, because I realised that you changed so much. Maybe I changed too, but it was different seeing you walking around at the company and going about your schedules, because I felt different about it all. I felt different about you. And I couldn't let it go, not least when we actually talked. I used to be late for most of my meetings and events because I would take detours to see you. Some days I would think about canceling my schedules just so I could be around you more.

"And I love the boys, I do, Chan. So much. But I have to admit, I wouldn't be around them half as much if you weren't there. I felt so drawn to you, not like the way I did when we were friends. I figured that if I didn't want to lose you, I would have to discipline myself. So I did.

"I threw myself into my work; I gave myself so much to do, partially to distract myself, partially to use work as an excuse whenever I was invited out, like tonight. Just because I knew you would be there, and I didn't want to end up spilling it all to you, because I knew it would ruin everything between us. Forever.

"And when Chae started hanging around us, I didn't mind at first; I sort of liked her. But I started hating her because of how close she would get to you, how much you two would secretly talk between yourselves, and it made me upset. So I ended up spending much more time by myself so that I would be able to forget she existed. So that I could forget that she ever entered the picture, and that it was just me and my secret that I kept from you. For so long, Chan. You have no idea how much I had to hold myself back from you.

"Did you assume that I never wanted to go out with you guys? That I never wanted to buy drinks from that vending machine the members always go to before eating out, or that I didn't want to spend time with you? Because I did, Chan. But I forced myself not to, because I couldn't bear to see you, and most of the time I didn't know if Chae was going to be there. I told myself I wasn't going to sit there and watch you be with her, not while I felt so invisible and unseen around you.

"Let me tell you something, Chan," you choke through sobs at him, pointing a finger at his chest as though it were a gun. "Every time Jisung or Jeongin or one of the boys invited me out, I did actually show up. Even if you never saw me. I would watch from a distance to see if Chae was with you; if she was, I would turn around and leave, and go home. If not, I would smile from around the corner as the maknaes begged you for money to buy drinks from that vending machine. And then I would turn around and go home anyway.

"I know every single one of their preferences; even if you didn't know I was there to observe them bickering and choosing, faces lit by streetlight. I would go around to the vending machines at the company and randomly buy their favourites for them, even if you didn't know how I knew. I would buy them for you too, and debate leaving a little note for you telling you how I felt alongside it, and I never did.

"Because, despite all of that, it was all a waste," you snap at him. You're not sure why you're angry; you suppose it's the result of feeling unheard for so long. "It was a waste, Chan. Because you never even noticed how I felt. So don't come chasing after me in the night like this like you care, because it was Felix who told you to come after me, Felix who noticed I had been gone for too long, not you of your own accord. And don't look worried or concerned either, because I've told you what's wrong, Chan, just as you asked. You can rest now."

You can barely see him through the blur of your tears.

"Y/n," he whispers, broken as you feel. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," you cry out at him, turning and storming in the other direction. And this time, he doesn't follow, still standing under the streetlight with his hand out, though you're not there to take it.

You sob bitterly as you almost flee around the corner, breaking out into a full-on run, like sprinting can fix the problem, fix your heart and your tears. It doesn't, however, and you feel worse as you bolt pass the crossing light, not caring about its colour. Later you will realise that running with blurry vision and a hysterical, heartbroken mindset was not the wisest idea.

You don't see the car speeding towards you until it's too late.

a/n: *laughs in writer*

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the-lazyyy-artist · 3 days ago

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Ok so this is my first time ever doing an ask so if I’m doing this wrong PLEASE tell me. Anyways I wanted to ask for some Oliver Aiku angst. Specifically where we’re married and he’s been cheating but he’s done a weirdly good job at hiding it. But then we find out and leave him. And if you could PLEASE make it in Oliver’s POV for extra male groveling. Now again this is my first time doing an ask so if I come off as demanding or just not detailed enough please forgive me. 🤕😭🫶🏼🤕

moral of the story oliver aiku x gn!reader

Synopsis: Oliver Aiku had everything: fame, the best career, and the love of his life... but sometimes, the snake slithers into the garden of Eden to poison everything.

Tags and Themes: angst, cheating, divorce, established relationship, marriage, people asking stupid questions, aiku's human condition biting him in the ass, ooc lmao, ubers team mentioned eheh

Author's notes: Hello, sweetpea! Oh, this took me a while to write, and you're my first ever request for a drabble! haha! Thank you so much for dropping this request! I wrote it as well as I could. I drew inspiration from stories I heard from that one Reddit story that Smosh read. I forgot which episode, but I will link it here if I find it again. I hope you love it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

photo grabbed from Pinterest (owner unknown; will search for it and add it here)

Want more stories? Check out the Blue Lock Masterlist!

On nights, he would stay up and wonder where he went wrong.

He knew he had gotten something wrong; he wasn't stupid, but the turn of events was something he couldn't control, or at least that's what he told himself to comfort him. The dissatisfaction, the cheating, the decision.

He lost everything that he once had.

If we go back to 2 years ago, Oliver Aiku was on the top of the world. Everyone loved him, everyone adored him. He was at the peak of his career at the ripe age of 27, one of Japan's most treasured players as he played for Italy. He was every kid's dream player and every teenager's role model in sports. And most of all, he had you, the best partner he could ever have; you were the one who knew him best since childhood until now and the best support he could ever have had. In every interview he had, he would honor you, telling the world that you're his lucky charm.

He had his dream life.

He had all the best in the world.

In your two years of marriage, he lived for the moment in the privacy of your shared home more than the spotlight on him all the time. Mornings were sweet as he would hold you in his arms, whispering "good morning" in your ear. As sweet love was shared between the safety of your sheets, he knew so well that this was his heaven, having you by his side. The routine of your quiet and comfortable days was something he held close to his heart because he knew how much you cared for him every day, and he gladly reciprocated that. It was all so surreal.

You were so surreal.

But sometimes, the devil slithers silently into the garden without anyone noticing, and for Aiku, it was the playful banters he had with his teammates.

"Don't you ever find it boring?" Lorenzo asked as they all gathered back into the locker room after a productive day of practice. That question alone got everyone's attention.

"Find what boring?" Barou chimed in, his gruff voice echoing in the room. Lorenzo cocked his head towards Aiku as he replied, "I was asking Mr. Lavender Haze here. I wanna know if marriage ever gets boring." Barou scoffs, shaking his head at his teammate. "You wouldn't understand that because all you ever care about is money."

"True, but that's because money can't hurt me," Lorenzo snickered. He slung an arm around Aiku, leaning all his weight on the defender. "Aiku has given up being a player for his partner. That's something I never expected him to do. He'd always disappear every time we're out drinking."

"There are things that needed to be sacrificed for love, Lorenzo," Aiku said, removing Lorenzo's arm around his shoulders. "You'd understand once you fall in love."

"But does it get boring?" Niko asked. The youngest of the team was never one to ask or peep when they talk about relationships, but this conversation must have piqued his interest. "Two years of marriage with the same person and all you do is now a routine. Surely, you'd return to your natural self, your human tendency of being a player."

"Niko, that's why sacrifices are made. I wouldn't have married them if I didn't truly love them. Besides, I know what I was doing before was destructive and inappropriate. I changed for them, and I couldn't be happier."

Niko hummed in response and continued whatever he was doing. But for Aiku, the questions stayed in his mind for quite a while. Does it ever get boring?

That's why he'd break up his past relationships before; 3 months of being together turn dull for him. He needed excitement, a challenge. He needed the thrill of chasing and pursuing. He lived for that high. But you..

You offered contentment, satisfaction, safety, and security. Something he never felt before because he tended to cheat and lily pad. He never wanted to settle down until you came back into his life and accepted him for who he was, loved him despite his past, and cared for him more than he ever cared for himself. You were the epitome of perfection in his eyes.

It was then he realized he still wanted it.

He wanted to get high on that feeling again.

It started small. Drinks with the team would turn into them entertaining fangirls at the bar. It wasn't new that Aiku would get the attention. Girls loved how he looked: his heterochromic eyes and how he carried himself. He'd tell them he was married at first, but with the need for thrill, he eventually gave in and chatted with one of the girls.

He didn't push her away when her hand started to wander on his thighs.

He didn't pull away when her lips got too close to his.

Eventually, his thoughts turned into fruition. The devil made him bite into the apple that wasn't supposed to be eaten, but whatever.

One make-out session turned into secret texts and calls. He was so good at being so discreet, making him feel nostalgic. His excuses weren't so obvious that you'd start suspecting him of anything. Rendezvous were hidden under the guise of extra training time due to an upcoming match, and calls were excused as ones from his manager about "interviews". He was careful, but could not hide the fact that it was...

It was everything he wanted, and he wanted more. More of the thrill, more of her, while still in the safety of your love and marriage.

How could you be so blind, he asked himself. How could his lovely partner be so trusting of him? How could you still smile and kiss him without knowing he was betraying you?

How could he imagine a life without you?

Months passed, and he knew he was in too deep. He started prioritizing the "practices" and "calls from the manager" over the time he should spend with you. It annoyed you, but you knew that's one of the things you were made aware of when you married the football star. His career comes first; the sports community will always have his attention first.

The calls kept coming, and one day, you answered one on his phone.

It wasn't the voice of his manager.

You were quick to pack up and leave despite his pleas, telling you he was sorry, that it was a mistake, that it wasn't supposed to happen.

"I told you, Aiku. When you proposed to marry me, I told you one mistake, I'll leave. I trusted you with all of my life, Aiku. I accepted you and saw how you changed for our marriage, and yet you betrayed me."

He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

He couldn't bring himself to wake up every morning, your absence making it all heavier. You weren't coming back soon, and he messed up. He lost you. He lost the life he knew he wanted. He lost the love he never deserved in the first place, yet you gave it to him wholeheartedly. You gave him a chance, and he failed.

The divorce papers arriving at his doorstep made it all worse.

He didn't want to sign it. He stared at it for too long, for days... for weeks... until your lawyer had to ring him up for the deadline.

He hated himself. For the first time, he hated every fiber of his being.

Every court meeting is like seeing the light because he gets to see you, his perfect angel. The only love he's ever known. But you would never meet his eyes. Always looking away, always so distant. He did this, he caused this. He lost the only love he ever knew.

After two whole years and several court hearings, your divorce was finalized. And for the first time in a long time, Aiku finally caught a glimpse of your eyes, the closest thing he could get to feeling your love once again, yet the words that came out of your mouth crushed him.

"I hope you realize that I will be the only one who will truly love you for you and not for your money and fame."

Aiku wasn't a crier. He never was, but he found himself breaking down at your words and how real this finally felt. He truly lost you. You were no longer his, and he's just a shell of a broken man.

He'll be haunted by the ghost of you, forever...

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luigilore · 1 day ago

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Hiii i’m having an awful flair up because i’m on my period, and reading anyyyyything lu + pain related would be so great. either he takes care of us or we take care of him or visceversa. esp if it’s like vulnerable and tender. thank you so much mwah <3 also no pressure if this isn’t something you wanna write today :D

luigi x reader with chronic pain, taking care of you (a/n: i am sorry this took so long also i hope you're feeling better!! i kept it vague re the exact pain but i really hope you like it <33)

luigi enters your shared bedroom quietly, just in case you’re sleeping. you're not– your pain instead spreads throughout your body and invades your mind like a parasite.

“i got the heating pad,” luigi murmurs, holding it up with a soft smile and what you can tell are analytical eyes, silently assessing your state.

"thank you," you mutter halfway into your pillow.

“a hallmark of a strong relationship is a shared heating pad,” he jokes, bending down to plug it in. when he stands up, a hand comes almost instinctively to intertwine with your own.

“i grabbed some epsom salts when i picked up your medicine- if you want a bath later," he adds.

sometimes you feel like luigi is so unfairly good that maybe you don't deserve him; deserve his tender patience or the energy he's put into researching remedies. but he always rejects those worries flat out, he knows how you feel, because he feels like that too sometimes. luigi always makes a pointed effort to how strong you are and how much he loves you whenever you have bad flare ups.

right now, you just want to pull him closer and let him hold you and forget everything else, an enticing offer, but your pain makes your mind focus on other more consuming things.

“what if it doesn’t go away,” you whisper, avoiding his eyes as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you.

“then we’ll deal with it. if that happens,” he says carefully. you sometimes go back and forth with each other like this, trading reassurances. it just sounds so much better coming from luigi than it ever could from the voice in your head. it's always 'we' and you're glad that it is. he gently turns your chin to look directly into your eyes, hazel flecks from the sunlight streaming in through the windows, “right?”

"yeah," you say eventually, a bit distantly, "sorry."

luigi scoffs indignantly, "what could you possibly be sorry for?"

"i dunno. moping, making you cancel your plans." luigi had plans this afternoon to go to a yoga class with his friend but your flare up made him cancel- even though you still encouraged him to go.

luigi frowns and raises his brows. "first of all, you're not moping. second, shockingly, you're a bit more important to me than a yoga class, even with the cancellation fee."

"just a bit," you echo.

"yeah," he laughs, warm thumb rubbing across your palm, hands still interlocked. “you know i love vinyasa.”

you smile up at him and the silence between you is comfortable, like it always is.

“i just-" you start and struggle to find the right words, luigi doesn’t interrupt you and waits patiently, “feel like a bit of a burden.”

you cringe slightly at how vulnerable your voice sounds, something only luigi would get to hear. he smiles sadly, “i get it,” he starts slowly.

you look up at him with an equally sad look, taking an opportunity to fill a second of silence, “i wish you didn’t.”

luigi hums, like what can you truly do. “but, you're not a burden. not to me. or anyone. plus i like feeling useful and taking care of you," he says, which you know is true. your wide smile at him makes his cheeks burn red- even after years together.

“did you eat while i was gone?” he asks after a few beats of silence, looking at you expectantly with raised brows, knowing the probable answer. you look at him sheepishly and that’s enough of an answer for him.

"you still have to eat even when you’re hurting," luigi says disapprovingly with knitted brows. he stands up and you frown as your hands break apart. "i can go get us something," he checks the time on his watch and laughs lightly, “we can have an early dinner.”

"i just want you to stay here," you say honestly, maybe a bit desperately, voice hoarse.

“let me make you something then,” he says easily, “we need a grocery trip but i’ll get creative.”

you smile and he does to; sometimes the amount of love he looks at you with overwhelms you in a really nice and tender and precious way. a feeling you want to hold onto for a long time. "thank you," you whisper.

“you do the same for me,” luigi says. like it's simple- and maybe it is.

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione imagine

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theyluvivi · 8 hours ago

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THE WEEKEND BY SZA...client!chris.

You're doing better.

You texted all your friends back, realizing that they at least need to know you're alive after not being in class for a week. When you explained the whole situation to them, especially to the girls who messed around with Chris, they were mad at you.

Just not as mad as you imagined. Talking to them helped made you realize that you were lowkey going insane. Girls who have been in your situation repeatedly telling you about what Chris is going to do, telling you things that's he's done to them, that he's done to you, made it click in your head.

You don't need him. Even though something deep down inside you believes that you can change him. That whenever you kiss, it's not just because he wants to get in your pants, it's because he wants to—You know he's not ever going to want you in the way you want him.

He's texted you, Matt, too, and you haven't responded. You're protecting your peace.

You've spent the day cleaning cleaning your apartment, pampering yourself, and catching up on assignments. And even though it's tempting to see whatever he wants...you know better. You know that you're not the only girl that is utterly in love with him that he has wrapped around his finger.

You're just out of the shower. Freshly shaven, bra still sticking to your skin when your phone buzzes. You bite your lip, deciding if you want to check who's texted you or get your blow dryer out.

It buzzes again. You slowly pick up your phone, pausing the song you're blasting from your shower and unlock your phone.

Chris.

You can hear your heart in your ears. You've been ignoring him since after he left the other day. You can take a peak, can't you? You're not gonna read them. You just wanna know how many he sent to you... how much he's been thinking of you...

Ten. Ten messages. Ten texts. Even Matt sent you more. As soon as you close out the message app, you receive more.

Know you can see these

I wanna see you

Can I come over??

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don't need this. You were doing so well. You didn't even open his messages. You were just going through your notifications.

Please?

At least tell me what I did

I'll fix whatever it is. Just tell me

You bite your lip again, hard enough to draw blood. Hoping that will make you rethink responding him. It doesn't. So, you slip on your robe and tell him that you're unlocking the door.

You don't need to read his message to know that he's on his way.

You can smell the perfume on him as soon as he walks in. "Been ignorin' me all day, what's wrong with you?"

Everything is wrong with you.

"....haven't been feeling good." You lie, trying to ignore your heart threatening to burst out your chest as he steps closer to you. Hickeys, hickeys all along his neck that trail under his hoodie that you can see no matter how much he tried to cover them. "Chris..."

It's been two days.

You want to curse him out, to tell him that if he's gonna come over her after fucking another girl he could make it less obvious. But you don't, you settle for a quick peck even though you both know that's not what he wants.

You hate this. How weak you are for him. "Yeah?" You cough, attempting to make your lie believable. "I have a test tomorrow... but you can stay over." You tilt your head at him, watching the interest in his eyes fade. You feel sickly.

"Mhn....alright."

At least you tried.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizmez @sosasturns @drewswife @strnilolover @cvnts4demi @oopsiedaisydeer

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angelltheninth · 21 hours ago

Note

Can I request headcanons about how Arcane Steb, Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Silco, and Ekko would react to his shy gn crush confessing to him in private please?

You can, and I will luckily write some fluff today.

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Steb x Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, love confession, co-workers to lovers, teasing, being shy

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Hope reading this makes you all feel warm and fluffy.

Viktor was suspicious of you when you asked him to stay in the lab even longer. Usually you'd be the one telling him that he needs to end work early and then walk home with him.

When you began acting all bashful about it and looking through the papers you'd been working on the whole day he was even more suspicious. Although you wanted to confess to him, your words failed you, so you went to your next plan. Handing him your notes you left him bewildered as he didn't even get to read them before he could read it. On it was your confession, and asking him if he wanted to go on a date sometime.

The next morning you arrived early and found his notebook on your desk. In it was a note from him, accepting your confession, but wishing you had been a bit more direct with your feelings as he isn't good at guessing how people are feeling.

"Seems like you beat me to the lab this morning. And you've had a chance to read my note, yes? I thought so, the way you blush doesn't lie. Since that is the case I will take some time off this weekend, we can go on that date you mentioned. I look forward to it, darling, I hadn't been on many dates, this will be interesting."

Jayce is very casually touchy with people so he didn't notice how much it flustered you. He knew you were a shy person so he assumed it was due to that you blushed easily. But he had been wrong before.

He never took himself as overly flirty so he didn't think you saw him that way either. But to you his actions, his casual touches, his soft smiles, his praise that made your heart skip a beat, was almost too much to handle. When you confessed to him in the empty hallways of the Academy you expected him to brush it off, but he was left stunned. For the first time it clicked with him, all those longing and bashful glances of yours.

As smart as he is he can be foolish sometimes and it seems like this is one of those times. There's a part of him that wants to kick himself for not noticing your feelings. The other part of him urges him to kiss you and assure you that he feels the same, even if it took him a confession from you to realize it.

"Pretty dumb of me isn't it? Well I never said I was the smartest when romance was involved. You give me too much credit, babe. Oh, was that too soon to call you that? We haven't been on a date yet but I felt like I had to kiss you or else you'd get the wrong idea. I know how wound up you get over the smallest stuff."

Ekko had a bit of a hard time noticing your feelings. He wants to be mindful of everyone around him, Because of that certain things get tangled up together.

Not to say that he was fully oblivious to your growing feelings, which might be why he started acting more protective over you. When you went on missions together you always stuck close together, watching each other's back. He was very lucky to have a strong person like you fighting alongside him. Which is why it was also hard for him to believe that you'd had such a hard time telling you that you were in love with him. For someone as cool as you it should have been easy.

Then again he is a lot like you in that regard. He was scared of hearing your confession, so he tried to avoid it, almost making you not say it at all. One of the last things he wants to do is to lose someone else when he just started loving them.

"Know this is gonna sound real stupid, Firefly, but it ain't you, it's me. I wanna be with you, trust me I do, and you, taking me by surprise in the middle of a flight and telling me that almost made me lose my footing. You sure know how to take a man by surprise. But hey, it's just one of the many things I like about you."

Vander knew you liked him but also knew you were too shy to say it. He felt like he shouldn't put any more pressure on you to do so either. When you felt like he it, he believed you'd find the courage.

And who knew that all it took was a bit of liquid courage on a late night that you spent closing up the bar with him. It wasn't like he planned on it, but one drinks turned into two and you started talking to each other. Listening to him praise your work and telling you how the kids liked being around you, combined with the drinks, gave you enough courage you needed to confess your feelings to him. The last thing you suspected was to hear he already knew of your feelings.

That was the last thing you remember before you passed out. When you woke up you were in his bed, while he slept on the old couch. Memories from the night before came flooding back, your confession. You were so embarrassed you wanted to quit your job.

"Now why would I fire a perfectly fine worker? Way I see it you caught feelings for your boss, is that right, darlin'? Think you'd be the first one to do that? No way, but you are the first that caught my eye, it's been a long time since that's happened. Hopefully one day you'll be able to confess without any alcohol in your system. Looking forward to that day."

Silco always knew you had feelings for him, even before he became the feared crime lord that he is. That was one of the reasons he kept you close. Well, that and the fact that he liked you too.

Being aware that you had feelings for him meant that he went to great lengths to keep them a secret, and his own feelings too. He might be feared but he is also hated. For your sake it might be better if he sent you away but he knew you were too stubborn to leave him. When things started to get more and more complicated you thought you might never get a chance to tell him how you feel if you didn't do it now. It wasn't so much a confession as it was a quick kiss which you then urged him to forget all about before running off.

Of course he wouldn't forget. But he would still keep his own affections on the downlow. At least for the time being it was better to keep your relationship a secret.

"You know as well as I do how many people want me dead. I don't want to put that same target on your back, darling. The reason I would like to keep us a secret is just so I can get things under control better. Once that happens I assure you that I'll be kissing you every day, until you get sick of me. Which might be a long time, I know we're both stubborn people."

Steb has always been the most calm and collected member of his team and that doesn't change when he realizes you have feelings for him. If anything he wills himself to act even calmer.

But he also makes sure that he isn't cold to you, especially to you, when you're trying very hard to admit your feelings for him. He sees that effort and doesn't want to take away from your big moment, even though he wishes that he could just confess himself. It's been a while since he's been in a relationship, not a ton of time for those. Since he doesn't have that much experience either he would rather follow your lead, your pace and when you have him alone, when you walk out with him after training and ask him out, he will say yes.

Although he would rather not make too big of a deal of your confession to him, he just can't help the way his face heats up. It feels like this is something he's been waiting for and now it's here.

"So much to think about in regards to our future date, angelfish. Let's see, I do know of a good spot, but they close before our shift ends. Perhaps I can put a good word in for us, have our shift end a little early before the week ends. It took bravery to ask me out, let me repay it in the best way I can and give you a date to remember."

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zepskies · 1 day ago

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Lol YESSS I know you love a bit of angsty heartbreak. 😜 Thank you so much, friend! Can't wait to see what you thought of the penultimate chapter. 💖

Oh, Micheal is just such a lovely, lovely person, isn't he? 😒 In the words of Taylor Swift: Michael doesn't measure up in any measure of a man...

oh God yeah, perfect quote for this pos, honestly. 😣

Hahaha omfg I loved Sam so much during this chapter! He was awesome!!! Go Lawyer!Sam 😎🤎 (And I have no idea if you intended for my mind to jump to Changing Channels and French Mistake Sam with these lines, but it did, so THANK you 🤣🫶)

LMAO I'm deaddd - Sam in Changing Channels is exactly the cadence of all his lawyering/"agreeing" with Michael to keep him talking. It's very "play your role" for sure! And French Mistake Sam is the icing on the cake. 🤣🤣🤣

I do understand his struggle after the war, but it's literally NO excuse to treat his wife like shit, cheat on her, lie to her, spend her money for his trashy sidepiece, and God knows what else. You don't want an anchor? Fine. Get divorced. The fact he keeps her around and won't let her find her own happiness after she literally saved his life is so mind-boggingly selfish smh The least he could to show his gratitude is not be a gigantic cuntface 🤬

First of all, LOVE that you dug up that Freddie gif. Leave it to you to find the perfect one there. 🤣🤣

And yes ALLLL of this! Louder for the people in the back!!!

That's exactly how I hoped readers would react to Michael's scene. Is he pitiable in a sense? Sure. Does he inspire sympathy? Maybe. But it doesn't excuse his selfishness, especially when you contrast him with Dean and his experiences vs. his actions.

Ugh, God, poor thing! 😭💔 With all the romanticism of that period sadly also comes the shame of taboo topics (not to mention feminism in general taking a backseat lol) Really feel for her here! Wish she wouldn't blame herself as much. Her husband is a dirtbag 😔

Ooof yep, that's something I hoped would come across as well. I wanted the reader to be strong but realistic to the time period in that sense. But it shows how her moral character differs from her husband. 🙄 Even now, she feels guilty for betraying him, even if she also doesn't. It's more the principle of it that she feels shame for, if not the actual emotional act.

SCREAMING 😳😳😳 The whole flower shop scene was like watching a train wreck. Poor Dean! So many stingers in those few sentences!! 😩 (And man, I wanna choke Michael!!! Buying flowers? Dinner? Are you fucking kidding me??? WHAT THE F–???)

Ughhhh God ikr? Poor Dean, indeed!! 😭😭 What's ironic is Michael doesn't know that that's almost exactly what Dean did to cheer her up the night before. So now, even Dean might be looking at his own actions as "not enough." But Michael has every shade of audacity, doesn't he? 😤

But did you stop the angst there? Nope! The reader part of me hated you, while the writer part highly commended you 😂💜

*snorts* honestly thank you - this compliment feeds me so much. 😂💕💕

I already knew it wouldn't be fast, but I knew this was going to be a problem. Where would she stay during this? Michael certainly won't have it, and I really fear for her safety here 🥺 (Reading the teaser for the last part, I think I have good reason to, even though I know you said once earlier I didn't need to. Still, you got me shaking here, girl 😅) Surprised Sam wouldn't think about that, considering everything he found out about the guy so far 👀

Ooh yes, these are all good questions! Her safety and where she'll stay is definitely a factor coming into play in Part 5. After what Sam has found out, he's going to make sure she's looked out for, for sure! 💜💜

This was such a dreamy, swoon-worthy movie scene *sighs* 😍🫠 And then they had to start talking, didn't they? Specifically Dean. The infamous DW self-loathing enters the AU 😆 I really just wanted to cover his piehole and tell him to stop talking, kiss her for real, and take her with you. Hide out in Kansas till everything blows over 😭

Ugh right?? Things started out so nice, why tf did Dean have to open his mouth? lmaoo

"I'm no good for you"!Dean has entered the chat. 😒 But no DW love story would be complete without a little self-loathing, right? 🙃

LOL love that image of literally covering his piehole.~

But I know it hurts, my lovely. I'm so sorry to do this to you. 🥲🤭

And I'm so glad the brothers had a long overdue chat as well! I still feel so incredibly heartbroken for Dean 😭

Oh yeah, Sam and Dean needed to have that moment - for Sam to see how much he was hurting big bro, and for Dean to get that off his chest. Ultimately though, if these guys can survive three years of the war apart, they can survive learning how to be brothers again too. 💜

I can't wait for the last part of this & how it all will tie together in the end! Eeeek! This is so, so, so incredibly good, friend!!! 😍😍😍 (And I get to read it on Patreon tonight too hehe 🩵)

Aww I love you so much for wanting to join my Patreon, friend!! I can't wait to see what you think of how it all shakes out--with much drama of course. you know me lmao 😘💖💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.”

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes.

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list.

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you.

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?”

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you.

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far.

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I��m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp.

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel.

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand.

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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daegall · 18 hours ago

Text

☆ unexpected company.

➷ in which the Gods give your boyfriend a shitty past few weeks, and you attempt to make up for it.

pairing: son of poseidon!jeno x daughter of apollo!reader

genre: reverse hurt comfort, fluff, angst, established relationship!AU

warnings: mentions of injuries (i think???)

word count: 2k words

a/n: jumpscare guys omg what the fuck i havent written since christmas 2 years ago LOOOOL um anyways........ comeback ? everyone say thank you jeno bc he is always and will always be my inspiration <3

btw this is basically . pt.2 of late night company so if you wanna go read that for just a little bit of context go crazy!! (you can read it without it tho)

The last few weeks in the infirmary have been busy, buzzing with clumsy teens and kids who carelessly run around in a sparring with someone clearly much stronger than them. You guess they get it from their god parent. As much as you love the infirmary and taking care of people, you're tired. Really tired. However, your (finally official) boyfriend for 2 months has always been there to help you through it.

Jeno Lee is someone you never expected to be so loving, but really, you should have known when he gave up his own team's flag just to go help you fight off Clairise during a capture the flag match. Despite his very busy schedule, Jeno loves to hang out around you, cracking jokes when you tend to crying, injured kids, getting you water when you don't realize you need it, and always attentively listening to you, whether it be a rant of frustration, or just a chat. Your favorite part is when he kisses you and tells you of how good of a job you've done.

As mentioned, Jeno has a very busy schedule. As expected, from a child of one of the big three gods. However, recently it's been… really packed. When Jeno does have the mercy of free time, he's always sleeping. You haven't seen him in two whole weeks. He's never talking to his friends, you never seen him swimming anymore,a nd worst of all? He's not eating. He loves to eat─and he's not eating. This calls for an emergency visit.

If only you had the ability to. You're in charge of the infirmary, however, and can never seem to find a replacement since your siblings always avoid the job and run away. You contemplate running away from your duties. For Jeno. You could send Jaemin to check up on him… no, he'd end up flirting with any girl (or guy!) he sees on the way. Damn Aphrodite kids. Finally, you decide to act on the former thought.

You don't even make it to the door, before you notice a very familiar presence by the door.

Your breath hitches as your eyes meet Jeno's. They look… tired. Nonetheless, you can still sense the love behind them, and it stirs something in you. You feel a small flame light in your heart, as if he's the one that set it on fire. The fire spreads to your feet as you make your way to him, to your fingertips as they reach out for him, and it's as if that fire has radiated on him, because he instantly melts into your touch, his nose bumping into your palm as he sighs out in what you can only make out to be satisfaction.

Despite his happy demeanor, you still can shake off the feeling of worry that stirs within you, noticing how his shoulders are tense─how he limps as you escort him towards a bed, how exhausted he looks. You wonder if this is how he felt when he saw you that night, on his dock, crying. If so, you'd never want him to feel this way ever again.

"I was just about to come to you, you know," You laugh softly, as you take a seat next to him and grab his hand in yours. It's warm, you've missed how warm it was.

Jeno's fingers instinctively curl between yours, and you feel the callouses of his fingertips on your skin, and it's oddly comforting. His head leans against yours, and he's strangely touchy, as if you were his battery source─like sunlight to a sunflower. "Oh? You were going to sneak out for me?"

You roll your eyes fondly. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know,"

And when his lips press against your temple, its you who melts this time, transforming into a giggly, grinning mess.

"I've missed you, you know,"

Jeno knows. He hopes you know that he's missed you even more. He's missed you every time he sees a band aid, he missed you every time someone made a lame joke, he saw you in every sunrise and sunset, he missed you when he gazed into water─which happens a lot, as a child of Poseidon. If he could, he'd abandon all these missions─what the hell are camp counselors thinking anyway, sending a kid off to beat the largest, most hazardous of creatures? He guesses that's the price of having power.

Jeno doesn't want power, however. He wants you. If power is in the way of him seeing you, he'd rather give it all away to the first person who asked, he'd give everything away for you.

"I've missed you too, baby,"

Your eyes tear away from your connected hands, trailing up to meet his own. They're longing and earnest. You smile, in hopes to comfort him.

It works, it always works. Jeno grins back, his other hand reaching up to brush your hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. He notices a small chunk of your hair is shorter than others, and thinks back to the letter you sent him, the one where you ranted out of frustration when your siblings pranked you during your sleep and cut your hair. He smiles.

"Tell me about your missions," You mumble, encouraging him to fill you in on everything you missed out.

"Well… I kicked ass. Got my ass kicked. End of story?"

Jeno yelps and laughs when you punch at his shoulder. "Fine, fine, it was… fun,"

"Really? But isn't it scary to be doing that all alone?"

In an instant, Jeno's face changes. Alone. He's been feeling that lately.

"uh… yeah, you could say that."

You notice the way his lips curl down, how his brows just furrow slightly. It tugs on your heart.

You squeeze his hand gently, head dipping down to chase his gaze. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jeno's lips curl back into a smile, and though its weaker than before, it's still there. "Nothing, just a little tired." You nod at his words, processing and attempting to dissect his intentions. "…okay, do you wanna rest here? I can watch over you,"

At your pure intentions and even purer heart, Jeno melts, pulling you closer with a shake of his head. "No need, just want to be here, with you. No longer alone…"

"Hey," You give him a look. He knows that look. You've caught him red-handed. "I'm here for you, you know that. Tell me what's wrong…"

Jeno cracks almost instantly. He could never be dishonest when it comes to you─he could never hurt you. "I just… I was so lonely on those missions. Yeah, I was out at sea, and sure I did talk to my dad a few times but it's… it's not the same as camp, you know? Where you could spar endlessly just for fun, where every meal was full of laughter and not some cold, prepacked plate of literal shit. Where fighting never had me thinking that this could be my last fight."

He pauses for a moment, breathing in deep breaths, but you wait for him. You know when to talk, and now is not the time. Instead, you rub up and down comfortingly at his back, something he's always loved. You feel his breathing slow, and his muscles relax. Then, he continues.

"Nobody understands me. I'm the only Big Three child here, and I hate it. I hate that I'm the only one who doesn't get to join bonfire nights, I hate that I'm the only one that has to constantly live in fear of constant death, I hate that I can't love you the loudest─just to keep you safe! God, I hate that I can't give you everything… to tell you the truth… I hated it out there. I hated every second in solitude, I hated how my thoughts raced for no reason, and how I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and how empty I felt. I know I'm an introvert, and I love my personal time, but out there… I wasn't alone. I felt like death was creeping up on me, keeping me company. I didn't want death's company─I wanted your company. I missed you, Y/N… so much… and it killed me to know that you missed me too."

Your heart shatters at his words, and the glassy look in his eye, indicating his tears. Your palms envelop his cheeks, despite his tight grip, and you gently direct him to look down at you. "You're here now, aren't you? I'm here, with you," You start with a shaky breath. "and don't you dare say you don't give me everything. You give me everything and more. You'd give me the whole universe and still think it's too little, Jeno," You laugh airily, squeezing his cheeks fondly. "and even though you were away, I always felt loved. You don't need to be here physically for me to know, you know, that how much I trust you. So trust in me too, please. Trust that I'm satisfied, trust that I can take care of myself and that I want you to love me without any fears because we shouldn't have to have fears. Let go, you uptight man, and live! There might not be a lot of people out there who get exactly what you're going through, but people will relate on some level. People are just like that, empathizing and loving. Don't hate who you are, please, because you'd be hating something that I love, something I know is always worth my time and attention and something I will never give up on. Okay?"

Jeno stares at you, his eyes glossy with a tint of red on the outer corners of his eyes. He still looks handsome. He's always handsome. His hand are on your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently over the material of your t-shirt, gently tugging you towards him.

"…shit, did I ramble? Was I too fast? Do I need to say it all again? Gods─um, you give me everything, and more, and I trust you, and I─"

Jeno shuts you up effectively, nudging away your hands holding at his face to dip his head down and connect his lips with yours. They're salty with tears, and so soft, moving gently against yours as you reciprocate the kiss, your hands finding comfort in his hair. He kisses you with yearning, and he thinks that if you came just a millimeter closer, you'd feel the ache of his heart and his craving for you. Your comfort, your hugs, kisses, your smile and your gentle touches, your appreciative glances, your love. He craves your love, and now that he has it, he won't ever let go.

He makes it clear as he chases your lips when you pull away in what is, in his opinion, way too fast, gently maneuvering you closer to him, your chests pressed together and arms wrapped around one another. You wouldn't be surprised if your heart reached out and merged with his.

When Jeno does pull way, it's only to shower your face with kisses and hug you even tighter.

"I'm always here for you, Jen,"

"I know, baby."

You grin, taking his hand in yours as you gaze into his eyes. "Stay the night? I've missed your cuddles."

Jeno's nose bumps against yours as he nods, his smile mirroring yours. "Never wanted anything more."

As you lay in an infirmary bed, wrapped in Jeno's arms, you realize that Jeno has already given you the universe. The warmth you identified as a flame of adoration in your heart has grown into a sun, and Jeno's orbiting around that sun, keeping you loved and cared for. Much like how he is your moon, and you are the tide, constantly gravitating towards him. You like this universe he's gifted you.

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