#i would love to blame myself in that maybe I just ignored the warnings- but like....usually its a very chill vibe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieween · 2 months ago

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gambler | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI) ✧ aus: established relationship, boss seungcheol, gambler cheol, bartender reader ✧ word count: 14.9k

✧ warnings: descriptions of depression. cheol is possessive, mentions of therapy, alcohol consumption, smut with plot, daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, reader is on birth control, big dick seungcheol, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, jealousy, exhibitionism: sex in the workspace, they have a voyeur. dirty talk. pet names: love, pretty, baby, angel (hers) babe, boss, daddy (his)

✧ thank you to @hhaechansmoless and @coupsiedaisee for proofreading this for me ♡

› series masterlist – general masterlist – taglist

✧ author's note: i cannot for the life of me not insert myself into my fics. some of the story beats in this one are too close to my heart. might be the most personal one so far so pardon the angst ? this chapter is an emotional roller coaster if i do say so myself

✧ author's note pt. 2: this chapter is told in a non-linear way. so it has a lot of time skips. you're warned. bye ✌🏻

✧ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

part v

Two years ago

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with. No matter how much effort or heart he put into something, sometimes it still wouldn’t be enough.

But what he could never reconcile, was that he had lost you.

Even though, deep down, he knew that he wasn’t entirely to blame for the breakup, the thought haunted him. He could’ve done more. He should’ve fought harder. He had always feared he would lose you someday, as if something so good was never meant to belong to him.

Still, the day you left felt wrong. He replayed it in his mind ten times, twenty, a hundred. Every word you said, every change on your face, everything leading up to the end. He should’ve done this, he thought, his stomach twisted painfully. He should’ve said that. He fell into an endless spiral of what ifs, mourning the version of his life where you were still in it.

He missed you.

Turning over in bed, he wrapped an arm around a pillow and sighed. He couldn’t even cry anymore.

It was four in the morning. He knew before he even checked his phone. He had become an expert in tracking the time spent in silence, in ignoring the missing calls, and unread texts from friends trying to reach him. None of it mattered.

His eyelids felt heavy, but sleep was no escape. In his dreams, he always found you. Flashes of secret glances across the library tables, the way you’d lift your head just to peek at him—smiling shyly because he always caught you looking. Other times, the dreams turned into nightmares, reliving the abrupt ending of what you had together, the last moments before you walked away.

The pad of his finger hovered over the shared folder on his phone. He swallowed hard, the familiar knot twisting in his stomach.

Apparently, you had forgotten about the folder. The folder where your photos were automatically backed up. Seungcheol never moved a single thing, as though keeping it untouched might preserve his last connection to you just a little longer. Before you noticed and end that too.

One week after the breakup, you erased all the photos of you together. Every trace you had together was erased on social media. But somehow, you had forgotten about the shared folder. Or maybe you missed him too. Maybe you wanted to hold on a little longer.

At first, he avoided his phone entirely, pretending his phone didn’t exist. But then—something happened.

One night, the folder updated.

Seungcheol felt a pain so sharp, he was sure it would kill him. Seeing your name on his screen made the pain in his chest tighter. He stopped dead in his tracks, bringing a finger to press on your name, he held his breath.

Updated a minute ago

His heart had pounded in his ears. He braced himself to see you to be wrecked all over by the sight of your face.

But no. The photos weren’t of you. They were of the sky. A sunset, painted in soft pinks and burning oranges.

That was the first night of his downward spiral.

He almost felt embarrassed by what came next. He didn’t fall to his knees. He didn’t scream or break down sobbing.

Instead, he checked the folder every single night. Waiting. Hoping. Not for the sky. Not for another sunset or sunrise.

For you.

It soon became his addiction, this quiet, but self-inflicted torment. The nights without an update were the worst. Just like this one. The thought of you realizing he still had access to the folder made him sick to his stomach. Maybe you had figured it out, maybe that’s why the updates had stopped.

Seungcheol locked his phone and tossed it somewhere in the tangled sheets.

Were you as lonely as he was?

Staring at the ceiling, he let the memories play again in his head. It was a dangerous game, replaying his own heartbreak like a song stuck on repeat.

Why did he like hurting so much?

If he could only hear your voice again. But he made a promise to himself: no matter how bad it got, no matter how much it tore him apart, he wouldn’t reach out to you. He wouldn’t do that to you.

His hand groped blindly for the whisky bottle on his nightstand, but he met nothing but the empty glass.

The phone buzzed somewhere in the sheets. He went rigid. The vibrations drummed against his ear. He ignored it at first.

But what if it was you?

The knot in his stomach tightened unbearably as he reached for his phone, his heart slamming against his ribs. His fingers fumbled through the sheets, desperate searching.

The aching feeling inside him was soothed at the moment he saw your name on the screen. Relief flooded his chest—you were still there. He even felt rewarded, in some twisted way. You always updated him around this time.

But the relief was fleeting.

The pain returned a thousand times worse.

He shot up too fast, dizziness crashing over him, not just from the alcohol, but from the sheer force of you. Blood rushed to his head, leaving him unsteady.

There you were. Your eyes.

He could read it in them instantly—you were sad. That was undeniable. But there was something else too, something softer. A glint. Catching in the pale morning light that bathed your face. Maybe it was hope.

Seeing your face for the first time in what felt like a lifetime was brutal. The image blurred. His vision swam. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing somewhere on the bed as he pressed his hands to his face. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he repeated, a strangled sound muffled against his palms.

He should have stopped you from leaving.

It was seven in the morning when he finally surfaced from the spiral.

Sunlight leaked through the cracks in the curtains, stabbing at his tired eyes. The bedsheets were tangled around him. Clothes were scattered across the floor—abandoned, forgotten. The whole room was a mess, but none of it compared to the mess inside his heart, his head.

Still, he sat there. A near catatonic state. Eyes open but seeing nothing.

He could not keep living like this.

His chest felt heavy as he reached for his phone. Seungcheol scrolled through a hundred and fifty-seven texts from Jeonghan before typing two words.

I’m fine.

His fingers hovered over the screen. Switching tabs to see your face one more time. And with a pause of hesitation, he opened his phone settings, hitting the hard reset button.

He had to let you go.

It was nine in the morning when he heard an urgent knock at the front door. He had gotten good at ignoring that too. But this time, he went to get it. He already knew it would be.

The door creaked open. “Hi,” Seungcheol croaked, realizing he had not spoken to a living being in days.

Jeonghan’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at the ground. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The way his shoulders tensed, the caution in his every movement, it told Seungcheol everything.

Jeonghan entered the apartment, gaze flitting over the place—the place Seungcheol once shared with you. Your things were packed into moving boxes, stacked in the corner, waiting to be sent back to your parents’ house.

His stuff was in moving boxes too.

Because there wasn’t a single corner of this place that wasn’t haunted by you. So, he had to let go of that, too.

Seungcheol had to take life’s lessons the hard way. Plans do not always come to fruition, yes. But that could also mean that he had the chance to make new plans. Or at least, that is what the therapist told him.

Breakups are hard.

After moving to a different neighbourhood, Seungcheol quit his office job. Then, in what everyone around him thought it was a fit of madness, he purged his entire life of you. He got new clothes. He died his hair, he let it grow. He re-did the piercings in his earlobes. He got a new phone.

If burying his past self meant forgetting you, he’d dig that grave himself.

“Are you sure about this?”

Changkyun leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the money stacked neatly between them.

“I’m sure,” Seungcheol replied, tone flat.

Changkyun clicked his tongue, tilting his head. “It’s a big investment.”

“One I’m willing to make.”

The money had been purposed for something else once. Something permanent. Something that, at one point, had been his future.

It was the money he had saved to start a life with you. Now, it lay before him in neat stacks, repurposed for something else entirely.

“I’ll tell my guy,” Changkyun shrugged, unconvinced. Then, a pause, a frown. “What exactly are you planning to do with the place?”

Seungcheol knew it was a gamble. This plan might fail. This plan might succeed. He did not know for certain. But he wanted to say that at least say he tried it.

With every fiber of his being, he wanted this.

“I’m turning it into a bar.”

Starting a new chapter in his life felt odd sometimes. Even if he had made it forbidden to think of you, he would wonder if you felt the same too.

Breakups are odd.

This new chapter of his life had him rewriting bits of himself that once included you in some way. It was seeing things with brand new eyes.

As the plan of opening a bar was in the works, new opportunities were falling to his lap. Jeonghan decided to take the offer of co-owning the bar, thus absorbing part of the investments too and making it a little bit easier to open it sooner.

Also, it was gaining some traction. People would stop and ask what the old pizza place would turn into.

“I have a friend that might be a good addition to your bar. He’s clever, and made for this, he’s kind of a night owl,” Changkyun mentioned one night in passing, looking around the place with an impressed look on his face.

“Bring him in,” Seungcheol nodded. He had been thinking of putting up hiring ads somewhere, but he kept pushing the task out of procrastination.

However, Changkyun’s friend was a true blessing in disguise. The guy turned up the following day as Seungcheol was putting up the shelves where he meant to display bottles of whisky and rum.

Crossing the doorway with a curious look on his face, he knocked on the countertop to draw Seungcheol’s attention over the loud hammering.

Upon looking at him, he knew it was Changkyun’s friend.

“You are?” Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up.

The guy was about to utter something, but after hearing Seungcheol’s dry words, he just stammered: “Jeon Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol made no follow-up comment whatsoever, the moment dragged on silently, he arched his eyebrows higher this time.

“I-I’m here for the job offer. I’m a friend of Changkyun’s,” he explained, pushing the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Have you ever managed a bar before?”

Jeon Wonwoo nodded his head once. “Yes.”

“Right. Come here tomorrow at five. We can cover all of the details then.”

Seungcheol felt glad he took that leap of faith. Most nights, he would walk around his bar feeling proud to have come this far and have a successful business all by his own.

He felt glad that the pain in his heart was starting to heal.

Breakups are funny. Because sometimes—though not often—he would wonder what you would think of him now. And when he did, he surprised himself. The thought of you didn’t hurt anymore. Seungcheol had nearly forgotten the sound of your voice, the way you used to say his name.

Two years had passed since that night. Two years of nothing but himself. The bar had become his whole world—the buzzing sounds of conversations over loud music, clinking noises, people laughing filling the silence where your voice used to be. The people he met now became small anchors to keep himself afloat and not think of the ghost of you.

He had built something from the ground up, he found something that was entirely for his own.

Even if he dared to think of you, it no longer felt like a punch to the gut. The weight of missing you, the constant need to look for you everywhere he looked was no more. The pain had grown dull, the memory of you something distant. Seungcheol had, at last, moved on.

Or he thought he had.

The busier he kept, the better. That had been his mindset for the past two years, and time had passed in a blur. And if he let himself be honest, he’d have to admit that he was content with his life.

Seungcheol sank into the lounge chair in the living room, a heavy sigh slipping past his lips as he reclined against the soft leather. A glass of whiskey rested on his thigh, his fingers loosely curled around it.

Silence reigned in his apartment, a stark contrast to the loud buzzing noise from the bar, it almost left him feeling overwhelmed. It was three in the morning—the usual time he got home after another long night at the bar. By now, it was routine. Second nature.

He licked his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. It was one of those rare nights when his mind drifted where he didn’t want it to, wandering down a path that always led to you. Were you alright? If so, were you loved?

In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, he saw you. He saw you sitting across the uni library, smiling because he caught you looking at him. His grip tightened around the cold glass, a flicker of something sharp twisting in his chest.

Seungcheol exhaled slowly, opening his eyes to take one generous gulp from his glass. The whiskey burned deeply, it was sharp and smoky, lingering in the back of his throat. He looked at the bottom of his glass, thinking of pouring another to quiet down his thoughts before going to bed.

After all this time, he shouldn’t be thinking about you.

But it was impossible to stop now. He tilted the glass on his fingers very slightly, his gaze unfocused. He remembered the way your fingers used to trace shapeless patterns on his skin, the quiet hum of your voice in the mornings, the way you would giggle in between morning kisses. Seungcheol wondered if you still did that, if someone else was on the receiving end now.

His chest tightened, the pain so hard that he had to take another large gulp of whiskey, deciding to pour another one. He had convinced himself he’d moved on. But nights like this, when the world seemed to stop and his thoughts were so loud they buzzed in his ears, he wasn’t so sure.

Because even after all this time, even after building himself a life in opulence and arduous work, he still thought of you.

He leaned over the coffee table, pouring more whiskey into the glass and the half-melted ice spheres. The apartment was too quiet, too still, so much so that he felt a prisoner to it. Like somehow the stillness was to blame that he was thinking of you.

Seungcheol tilted his head back against the chair, swallowing hard to try to dissolve the feeling coiling around his throat. Staring at the ceiling, the grip around the glass of whiskey loosened, right before he allowed himself to remember.

It was a late night. You were curled up on his couch back at his old, tiny apartment. You were currently fighting sleep while waiting for him to finish looking over something. Seungcheol was working late, going over some accounts from his old office job. He didn’t remember what had him so busy, but it didn’t matter now. What he remembered about that night was that you refused to go to bed without him.

You were staying over at his apartment, he doesn’t remember the reason why. But you were slightly irritated that you were staying over, and he was working on some accounts.

“Just a few more minutes,” he had told you, glancing over the stack of papers.

You had hummed something in response, your eyes already slipping shut.

When he finally had set the papers down, you were already deeply asleep on the couch. Seungcheol sat down beside you, and you had barely stirred, except that some seconds later, you had leaned into him, your body instinctively seeking out for him even in sleep.

Seungcheol had smiled to himself, welcoming you in a careful, but loving embrace. The seconds passed, but he made no move to carry you to bed yet, he enjoyed the peace and quiet moment with you.

It was nothing special. It was just a regular night. And yet somehow, it was everything he ever wanted.

And now, he was sitting alone and in silence.

Seungcheol let out a quiet scoff in amusement, and regret.

Funny, the things you miss.

The next morning, he woke with a sharp inhale. His neck felt stiff from the awkward angle against the headrest of the couch. A deep groan left him as he blinked lazily, the morning light spilling through the window made him grimace a bit.

Running a hand down his face, he groan, his brain feeling sluggish and struggling to catch up with the fact that he had fallen asleep thinking about you.

Seungcheol hated falling asleep on the couch. It always left him feeling unrested, and disorientated, like he’d lost track of something.

The now empty whiskey glass sat in front of him on the coffee table. He wanted to lay the blame on the alcohol, but deep down he knew that he had just gone through a moment of weakness.

The memory of you still clung to him, like an echo refusing to leave his mind. Even out of his life and far away from him, you were still stubborn. Still refusing to leave, branding a mark within him deeply. Irritation flared beneath his skin, making his blood boil. He didn’t have time for this, not today, not ever again.

He pushed himself up, his steps taking him straight to the bathroom to have a shower. Even as the scalding hot water hit his back, the weight in his body refused to leave.

It didn’t matter. He had a job, he had a bar to run. And if there was one thing that he’d learned in the past two years since that, it was that staying busy kept the ghosts at bay.

For now.

The bar was barely active with the first tasks of the day. The kitchen was getting ready, the noise from the staff moving around, the clatter of glassware carried all the way to the front of the bar.

The tables were vacant, everything was tidied and ready for the day ahead. Wonwoo, who was sitting on one of the booths was already active and sorting out what tasks needed to be done before the first costumers showed up.

The bar had a unique smell every morning before opening hours. The low humming noises from the staff gearing up for the day, everything around him felt like home to Seungcheol. Work, it was what grounded him. At least it usually did.

But today, the weight of the restless night clung to him, the ghost of you still following him wherever he turned to.

“Rough morning?”

Seungcheol glanced to the booth that was pushed all the way back. “Didn’t sleep well,” he replied to Wonwoo.

“Yeah, well,” Wonwoo sucked in a breath slowly. “That makes two of us,” he exhaled.

Seungcheol sat down on the booth too, crossing his arms on the table. He rolled his shoulders before sitting back on the seat, brush those thoughts away, he told himself.

“What do we have today?” Seungcheol nodded to the notes sitting beneath Wonwoo’s hands.

“Let’s see,” Wonwoo began, skimming through his notes. “We have suppliers coming in two hours. I have a newbie to show the ropes to. And we haven’t paid the Haze boys yet,” he mentioned aloofly.

“I already did last night,” Seungcheol replied quickly.

“Got it,” Wonwoo said as he checked the reminder off. He lifted his head, looking at Seungcheol, but then something else caught his attention. “Oh, the newbie is here.”

“Hi,” a tiny voice replied in the background.

He should have listened to the alarm bells in the back of his head, the ones screaming at him to pay attention to that voice. But Wonwoo was already moving, an eager smile on his face, Seungcheol, and he should’ve noticed that too.

Seungcheol may have forgotten the sound of your voice. But he would never, never forget your face.

And in that moment, he wished he was seeing a stranger.

Because the way your expression froze, the way the light in your eyes dimmed, told him everything he needed to know.

He was seeing a ghost.

It couldn’t be you. You were on the other side of the planet. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

The shock hit him so hard, it left an echoing pain in his chest, so deep he nearly dropped to his knees. His breath turned shallow. The floor beneath him suddenly felt unsteady, he almost began to think that the entire place around him had turned against him, showing him a mirage of you.

The following moments were a blur. He made up some dumb excuse—he didn’t even remember what he had said—and ran away from the bar, barely registering Wonwoo’s confused look as Seungcheol made his exit to the nearest bathroom.

There, leaning face-first against the door, his hands braced against the cool surface, he had to make a choice.

He could pretend to not know you at all. Accept you in his bar, his safe haven and keep his distance like a stranger.

Or he could refuse. Tell you to look for a job elsewhere.

The first choice meant keeping you close while never going near you.

The second meant losing you all over again.

It was another gamble.

But there was one thought he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried. Why on earth were you looking for a job? His mind reeled uncontrollably, he lost track of his surroundings, his body. Months before you broke up with him, you had taken on a part-time job—but that was different. That had been your choice, something temporary.

This? This felt like something else entirely.

Seungcheol had cut off all contact with you, so he had no idea about your family either. He never imagined that you had been cut off, this time completely.

Even after years of not seeing your face, he could still read you perfectly. One glimpse, and he noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the slight off-color on your cheeks and lips. You were tired. Worried.

When he finally mustered the strength to move, he went back to the bar. And there you were—sitting in the same spot he had occupied moments before.

Something happened. Something baffling.

He felt his heart and mind split between the person he used to be and the person he was now.

For a moment, it was as if time had folded in on itself, pulling him back to the first time he saw you sitting in the library all those years ago. He remembered the way he felt then—the quiet pull of intrigue and fascination, the way he used to watch you from a distance before he ever worked up the nerve to ask you out.

You were the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on.

And God, he had missed you.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to move, to go near you. His fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, to touch you, to prove that you were real and indeed not a ghost. It was almost funny—how the world stopped the moment he saw you, yet in his mind, everything was happening at light speed.

He felt angry at you for showing up in his life like nothing happened. He felt angry that with one look at you, his life came apart.

And then, realization settled deep in his chest.

If he let you walk away now, he would wonder about you every day. Again. And he refused to go through that a second time.

So he took another leap of faith.

Present time

“So?”

“So, what?” you asked slowly as you tied the apron behind your back.

Jeon Wonwoo was leaning on the countertop, elbows planted, phone in hand. “You spent weeks playing me for a fool,” he said with a sheepish smile—one that he didn’t quite hide all the way as he stood upright, rubbing the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

“Listen,” you begun with a light chuckle, eyes flickering around the room in case Seungcheol was nearby. “I was just curious, and-,”

“I get why you did it,” he said, lifting a palm and shaking it dismissively.

“Oh. Then why—”

“I think I am owed an apology,” Wonwoo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“I am sorry,” you said dumbly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. And that I… took advantage of that and snooped a bit.”

Wonwoo tilted his head back slightly, the grin growing on his face. “I don’t want a verbal apology.”

You gaped at him. “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going?”

He pursed his lips—the same look he always had when he was toying with a cheeky idea. “One day I’m going to ask a favor from you. And that is how you’ll repent.”

“That’s blackmail,” you pointed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No different from you playing dumb and ask me questions about your ex for weeks,” he rolled his eyes. “So?”

“Are you being serious, Wonwoo?”

“Dead serious.”

You sighed, looking around one more time. The bar was already in open hours, but it was still early to have a lot of customers, to the exception of the ones who regularly showed up within the hour of opening.

“Fine,” you gritted.

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, returning to his task behind the bar. “I do forgive you,” he said. “But I will ask a favor from you. Soon.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, throwing your arms in the air. “I’m at your disposal, I guess.”

“It’s just something I need help with, no big deal,” he shrugged.

“Is it about… work?” You grabbed a dishcloth, pretending to clean the nearest cup.

Wonwoo tilted his head, considering his words. “Yes and no.” He chuckled lightly, but his gaze lingered a beat too long.

“I hate the suspense,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat.

“And I hate being lied to,” he shot back, though his smile was small, almost amused. “I’m keeping the suspense until I claim that favor.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, knowing full well you were pressing his buttons.

“So you’re not even going to deny it?” Wonwoo’s smirk stretched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would it make a difference?” You sighed, already regretting every choice that had led to this moment.

“Not really,” he admitted, tilting his head. “But I figured I’d give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Is it going to be like this now?”

“Blackmail is suddenly very acceptable now that I found you out,” he said sweetly, but the glint in his eyes told you he was enjoying this way too much.

“Wonwoo.” You shot him a warning look.

“Fine, fine.” He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “But you have to admit, this is a fascinating situation. The two of you, playing strangers while making eyes at each other when you think no one’s looking—”

“We are not making eyes at each other,” you snapped, a little too fast.

“Oh?” His grin widened. “Must I remind you how I found you two out?”

Your stomach twisted. You sent a quick glance around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Look, you wouldn’t understand—”

“Exactly why wouldn’t I understand?” His smirk faded, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the checkered floor. The real reason felt too raw to say aloud. You had spent weeks toeing around Seungcheol’s life without stepping directly into it, and Wonwoo—whether he realized it or not—had been your connection to the pieces of him you hadn’t been brave enough to face. You needed to know how broken he had been before you could allow yourself to be closer again.

“Because I hurt him too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I was scared to come back into his life. I was ashamed.”

Wonwoo studied you for a long moment before exhaling, his teasing demeanor softening. “Why did you come back?” he asked, like he was peeling away the last layer of the truth.

Your throat tightened. The answer had always been simple, but saying it out loud made it feel so much heavier. You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I never wanted to leave.”

His expression shifted completely, the guarded amusement replaced by something much quieter. “I get it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand landed on your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Hey. Don’t worry,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “This doesn’t make me think badly of you.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Thank you,” you muttered, offering a small smile.

Wonwoo winked before stepping away, getting back to his task before opening hours. But something in the way he left made you uneasy. He wasn’t entirely done with this conversation.

And worse—something told you that whatever Wonwoo was holding back also had to do with Seungcheol.

It was a slow day that day, only a handful of customers walked through the door, and the hours dragged on. But with the end of your shift approaching, you found yourself more relaxed than eager to leave.

For once, the guys had behaved. No teasing, no snooping, almost like some rule had been put in place to avoid the subject. You suspected that Seungcheol had something to do with that.

Not that he had much time to show for it. He’d been busy—placing orders, making phone calls, handling payments, coordinating deliveries for the kitchen, and making sure the bar was stocked with everything it needed. And, most importantly, he had taken on the task of training the new hire, Chan.

Chan was in his first week. He was younger than you, bubbly, and had a good attitude. But he’d made one mistake on his very first day. Wonwoo, as a way to get his payback, had decided that Chan would shadow you in some of the complicated tasks, like how to operate the system, or the terminals.

Having him as a shadow was fine. Except for one thing.

“You’ll be shadowing her,” Wonwoo motioned to your direction.

“Hi, there,” you said, offering a quick wave. Then you turned around, resuming to tending your tables.

Chan barely hesitated before muttering under his breath, “Jesus. She’s fucking hot.”

Wonwoo tensed up, coughing lightly. “Shut up,” he muttered, throwing a look over his shoulder.

You thought of turning around and just shut the guy down. But unaware of the silent warning, Chan remained completely oblivious. Especially to the fact that his new boss, Seungcheol, was standing right behind him.

Seungcheol’s jaw was tightly clasped, deciding to say nothing and looking away instead. Chan unfortunately, remained oblivious and exceptionally bad at hiding his attraction to you.

And this shift was no different. Chan remained completely unbeknownst to the fact that he had walked straight into dangerous territory, and even more surprising still, he didn’t realize that Seungcheol had him in his sight.

The moment Chan started following you around the bar, Seungcheol just happened to stick around more. At first it wasn’t as evident, since he was normally in the bar doing inventory, paperwork, making calls, he practically lived here. But today, he was suddenly very hands-on.

“Here, let me show you,” Seungcheol said, stepping in just as Chan was having a hard time learning how to use the shaker. Seungcheol took the shaker from his hands with a practiced ease, his presence instantly noticeable. “Watch carefully. You want to get the grip right, or you’ll make a mess.”

Chan nodded eagerly, completely missing the way Seungcheol’s gaze flickered toward you for a fraction of a second. You did not miss it.

Your stomach tightened, breath hitching slightly. You were sure you saw Wonwoo’s lips curve slightly, what solidified your shame was the gentle nudging of his elbow as you passed beside him.

This battle continued throughout the shift. Whenever you were nearby, Seungcheol was there too—adjusting bottles, correcting a pour, explaining to Chan how things were done. At one point, you reached for a glass at the same time as Seungcheol, your fingers barely brushing his. A brief, fleeting contact, but enough for you to catch the smug look on his face. He didn’t smile, but there was something flashing across his features. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He just raised a brow in silent amusement, using his tongue to brush the smile that was beginning to form on his lips.

And Chan? Completely unaware. It was almost as though he felt proud that it was the boss who was showing him the ropes.

However the most perplexing thing was that Seungcheol made no obvious move to show Chan that you were his girlfriend. Years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to use a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Or he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you love or angel in front of everyone.

Seungcheol loved claiming what was his. So the fact that he was not doing so openly made you feel obfuscated.

“He’s making a point,” Wonwoo said as he walked past you at the bar, muttering just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised your gaze to meet his. “A point?” you asked dumbly.

Wonwoo grinned, motioning with the tip of his nose at situation happening across the bar—Seungcheol was talking with Chan. The conversation happening so far away that it was very difficult for you to hear.

“Oh, this is nothing,” you said, sighing heavily.

Seungcheol spent the rest of the shift hovering. And it became almost funny to you. It wasn’t that obvious, but every time Chan made a move to get close to you, somehow Seungcheol found a way to intervene.

Whenever you bent over to pull out something from the fridges, Seungcheol intercepted Chan’s line of sight smoothly. Or whenever you stood on your tiptoes to grab a bottle from the shelf, Seungcheol would call for Chan, asking a dumb favor like passing him a lime, or changing the song playing on the speakers.

You were turning toward the liquor shelf, reaching for a bottle on the top rack when—

“Careful.”

Seungcheol’s voice came from just behind you, making you freeze instantly in place. His arm was already extending past you, fingers curling around the bottle with ease. His chest pressed against your back and as he retrieved it, you swallowed hard, heart racing at the way his warmth wrapped around you.

“I had it,” you muttered, turning around on your feet.

Seungcheol had a smirk planted on his face. “Sure you did,” he said smoothly, his eyebrow quirking up slightly. “Just wanted to help.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your bottom lip to keep you from smiling at him. “Uh-huh.”

Seungcheol leaned towards you, and you instantly sucked in a breath. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Is that what you’re doing with Chan?” you countered, unable to step away, his whole frame was caging you in.

Seungcheol tilted his head, arching his eyebrow. “I’m doing my job.”

You had nothing to reply to that. Despite Seungcheol engaging in a petty rivalry against Chan, he was doing his job.

Seungcheol noticed, a sly grin appearing on his face as he sent a glance across the bar. Chan was looking your way, dropping his gaze as soon as you locked eyes with him. “This guy,” Seungcheol hissed.

Your face started to heat up. “Seungcheol,” you muttered as he motioned towards Chan.

He turned back, an innocent look on his face. “What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, blinking innocently at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.”

He grinned, slow and knowing. “I’m just implementing a strict focus during training,” he shrugged with ease. “Can’t have the new hire looking at my girlfriend on his first few days when he should be learning the ropes, right?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Seungcheol.”

“Relax,” he chuckled, pushing off the counter. Then, with an absolutely infuriating wink, he added, “Just having some fun, baby,” he said quietly. And just like that, he strolled off, leaving you to wrestle with the fact that he was definitely enjoying this.

And worse? So were you.

The usual end-of-shift routine was unfolding. Seungcheol had actually finished his tasks more than an hour ago, and he could’ve gone home already—if he wasn’t your boyfriend. And your ride home.

Somehow, nobody had thought to tell Chan that you were with the boss. And it was too embarrassing for you to just come out and say it. Besides, a small part of you enjoyed the primal reaction Seungcheol had every time Chan so much as looked your way.

So, instead of leaving, Seungcheol kept himself entertained at the pool table, practicing his shots while sipping a beer. Every now and then, he sent glances around the bar. Casual glances, but noticeable—making sure Chan was keeping his comments about you to himself and his eyes on the task at hand.

You were rinsing out a glass when Wonwoo returned from taking out the trash. “Alright, boss,” Wonwoo called. “We’re clocking out!”

Seungcheol was bent over the pool table, eyes locked on the white cue ball just ahead of his stick. He nodded once before executing a smooth shot. “Alright. See you tomorrow, guys. Thanks.”

The door swung shut behind them, leaving just the two of you in the bar. You set down the last piece of glassware to dry on the rack. Washing your hands, you sneaked a glance at Seungcheol, who was biting his bottom lip as he lined up another shot.

“What?” he asked, sensing your scrutiny.

“Nothing,” you huffed, smirking as he looked far too smug about it.

Seungcheol laughed under breath. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re busy when you don’t want to answer me.”

You exhaled, rolling your eyes before walking around the bar and grabbing a cue stick from the rack on the wall.

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, gathering the pool balls inside the triangle again.

“No,” you replied simply. “But why didn’t you tell Chan about us?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “The topic never came up.”

“You could’ve told him instead of stalking him like he was about to steal your food,” you teased, cackling at your own description.

“It was better this way,” he said easily. “Doesn’t mess with the workflow, and he keeps his cheerful attitude.” He paused, his gaze narrowing just a little. “He didn’t make you uncomfortable, did he?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Please. He barely even spoke two words to me. He’s harmless. While you on the other hand?” you huffed, leaning over the table to line up the first shot. “You glared at him all night.”

Seungcheol smirked, leaning against his cue stick. “I don’t glare.”

You made your shot, sinking a striped ball into the corner pocket. “Oh, you definitely do.”

He hummed, pursing his lips. Then he step closer as you moved to take your next shot. “I was just making sure my bartender didn’t get distracted.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By what?”

“By some new guy staring at her.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “That is a non-issue,” you pointed, refocusing on your shot. “I could’ve told him I’m with someone, call it a day.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, he ran his fingers down the line of your back just as you were bending down, and placed his palm firmly on the small of your back.

You hit the cue ball a little too hard, sending it bouncing off the rails without hitting anything else.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Someone?” he inquired, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Not me?”

You deadpanned at him. “You know what I mean,” you huffed.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “And what do you mean?” he pursed his lips. “Would you have told Chan that you’re with someone instead of just telling him you’re with me?”

Your brows furrowed, straightening up. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one,” he smirked, taking his shot, sinking two balls in quick succession. “You know what, maybe telling him your boyfriend is also his boss would destroy that confidence he has.”

You laughed at him with reluctance. “You’re being kind of a prick.”

Seungcheol didn’t deny it, laughing with you. “Maybe.” He circled the table, standing just behind you now. His voice dipped lower, teasing. “But I think you like it.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back slightly to look at him. “Like what?”

He leaned in just a fraction, enough for his breath to brush your ear. “That you drive me crazy.”

Your throat went dry, breath hitching almost audibly.

Seungcheol pulled back, his smirk lazy and triumphant. “Your turn.”

You exhaled, gripping your cue stick a little tighter. “Take it back. You’re being a huge prick.”

Seungcheol smirked, stepping back just enough to let you focus, but you could still feel his presence lingering close. Dangerously close. “You haven’t denied it.”

Rolling your eyes, you lined up your shot, determined not to let him win. You hit the cue ball, this time sinking a solid with a satisfying thump. You straightened and turned to him smugly. “The answer is no. I don’t like that my boyfriend gets all jealous and possessive as soon as he sees other men glance my way.”

Seungcheol hummed, nodding slowly. “Maybe I should try a little harder, then.”

You shot him a look. “You should try harder… at the actual game.”

He laughed under his breath. “Alright. Let’s make it interesting, then.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

“A bet.” He leaned on his cue stick, watching you closely. “If I win, you owe me something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds like trouble.”

Seungcheol grinned, his heart palpitating with eagerness. “Absolutely.”

You considered for a moment. Winning against Seungcheol was always satisfying, but the path to losing against him… well, that was dangerous territory. “Fine,” you conceded. “But if I win, you owe me something.”

Seungcheol’s eyes glinted with interest. “Deal. What do you want?”

You pretended to think. “An entire week without you messing with me at work.”

He gaped at you for a second. “A whole week?” he huffed, running a hand through his blond hair. “That’s nearly impossible.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. And if I win…” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You have to go on a real date with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “A… real date?” you asked dumbly.

He shrugged. “You know. Something other than stolen moments between shifts or late-night car rides home.”

“That’s...” you arched one eyebrow.

Seungcheol smirked. “What? Afraid you’ll lose to me?” he challenged.

You huffed. “No. Afraid you’ll cheat.”

“I would never,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Babe, we live together,” you emphasized.

“And? We haven’t gone out on a date in…” he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Two years and a half,” he said.

Your heart clenched, realizing he was right. “Fine. Let’s play.”

Seungcheol stepped aside, motioning toward the table. “Ladies first.”

You lined up your shot, focusing harder than before. If you were going to beat Seungcheol, you needed to be unstoppable.

But just as you were about to strike, Seungcheol muttered, “You know, I really should’ve told Chan.”

You hesitated, glancing up. “And what exactly would you have told him?”

“That you’re already spoken for.”

Your grip on the cue stick tightened. “Spoken for? That’s one way to put it.”

He nodded, looking way too pleased with himself. “Now I’m beginning to think it would’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your shot. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. With me. Playing pool. After hours.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at his words and finally took the shot. The ball sank into the pocket, and you straightened, feigning confidence. “And?”

Seungcheol chuckled, moving to take his turn. “Oh, baby.” He leaned over the table, eyes locking onto yours just before he took his shot. “You’re terrible at hiding your emotions from your face.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, again.

“You have a tell,” he said smugly. “You always have.”

You hated that he was right.

And you really hated that you were probably about to lose this game. And not because of a lack of skill, but because Seungcheol was too distracting for you.

The way his sleek black T-shirt clung to his body, the posture he adopted as he leaned on his cue, the way his dark jeans hugged his ass. Not only that, but his fucking attitude was driving you crazy.

“So what?” You placed a hand on the table before leaning over. “It’s not like we’re playing poker.”

“If you’re keeping us a secret, you might want to work on that poker face,” he mused, tone smug. It was then when you should’ve realized his game.

You scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything, Seungcheol,” you said, not fully thinking through how that might sound. Your tone resounded across the table, high and swollen in condescension.

Seungcheol’s smirk deepened, just as you took your shot, only to miss horribly. “Not just bad at hiding your emotions, but bad at pool too.”

He didn’t even give you time to recover. Seungcheol stepped up, leaning over the table to take the final shot, sinking the last ball into the bag. Game over.

Seungcheol straightened, casually planting the cue stick in front of him, both hands gripping the top as he leaned on it slightly. You tossed the cue stick on the table while he just cocked his head to one side, then he smirked.

“Prick,” you gritted, trying not to smile as his smirk widened on his perfect face. You crossed your arms over your chest, going around the table to meet up with him. “You know I wouldn’t hide our relationship.”

Seungcheol turned around, putting the cue stick away back on the rack. “What made you hesitate, then?”

You gaped at him, having nothing to say. You thought about what you told Wonwoo. About feeling ashamed, where did that shame extend to? Did it go so far as to make you feel unworthy of Seungcheol’s forgiveness?

“Mmn?” he hummed, taking one slow step towards you, effectively eliminating the space between you.

“Cheol,” you breathed, bringing a hand on his chest to stop him from pinning your body back against the table behind you.

“What’s happening, baby?” he cooed softly.

You blinked. He wasn’t smirking anymore—just watching you carefully, waiting. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I didn’t think telling Chan about us would matter. So I didn’t do it.”

Seungcheol’s lips twitched into something small and satisfied as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, helping you sit on the rim of the pool table. You were now face to face with him, his eyes scanning the features of your face.

“I think you enjoy it,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy.

“Enjoy what?” you asked meekly, feeling small as his body practically still towered over yours.

Seungcheol dipped his head to meet your lips, except that he didn’t kiss you right away. “Seeing me get jealous,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in the process.

“Yeah. A little,” you replied in the same manner, a light smirk spreading across your lips.

“You know, that’s a dangerous thing to admit.”

Your smirk deepened. “Why? Gonna punish me for it?”

He smiled, finally pressing his lips against your own. The kiss was quiet, quick, but you could feel the immediate need for more. You hummed into the kiss, slipping a hand on his nape to pull him closer—to feel the warmth radiating from him, the mixture of his jealousy and the playfulness of it all.

The world outside was quiet. And something about this moment felt different, but also so familiar. It was as though you both were young again—sharing rushed kisses in the quiet of the library, or making out in secret places.

But the difference was that you didn’t have the need to hide anymore, at least not entirely. Despite you and him being back together fully, there was no fear of you getting caught or not.

Seungcheol pulled back, but just slightly. His breath fanned gently over your lips as he smiled. “You didn’t tell Chan we’re together because you knew it would make me jealous?” he asked, the tone sounded genuine, but tiny.

You made a motion to shake your head. “I don’t know,” you replied, your tone low, almost like a breath. “I just didn’t.”

“Mmn,” he nodded, pressing his lips to yours. Then with a triumphant air, he whispered. “I win.”

You had forgotten that you were playing pool—that you were playing a game at all. You succumbed to the delicious taste of his kisses, pressing his lips to yours lightly at first. Then his full lips slowly locked with yours, creating a wet smacking sound as he pulled back.

“You might’ve won, but I—” you touched the tip of his nose with your fingertip. “—never lose,” you cooed, smiling sweetly at him.

Seungcheol pulled back, biting his lip as he looked at you like he wanted to say some quippy retort. But instead, he switched his hands from your waist to your thighs, pushing them apart and grabbing them so he could scoot you closer to the edge of the pool table.

“You know what?” he sighed with a smile, an eyebrow quirking up. “Maybe you do need a little punishment.”

You smiled, humming in delight. Seungcheol slipped his fingers beneath your chin, holding you gently before giving you a featherlight kiss. “But I really want to fuck you right now.”

Your skin came alight with excitement, making you shudder slightly. A sigh slipped past your lips involuntarily. “What’s stopping you?” you whispered, almost afraid you would break the quiet ambience of the bar—the low humming of the fridges, the buzzing of the neon lights that you’d said you would turn off, but forgot.

His hand left your chin, moving to thread your hair through his fingers. “You tell me, angel,” he replied in kind, an amused grin on his face, he enjoyed toying with you.

He softly pulled on your hair, leaning your head back as his lips trailed down your jawline. Your mouth parted, silently moaning as his lips touched the spot below your earlobe. “Cheol,” you muttered.

“Mmn?” he hummed at the sound of his name leaving your lips. “Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his low and raspy tone pouring into your ears.

You wanted to answer, but words just ceased to exist. All you wanted—all you needed—was his hands on you. And Seungcheol knew it all too well.

His hands travelled from your parted thighs to your butt, squeezing lightly as he sighed through his nose. As he did this, his lips kept trailing down your neck with light kisses, each one more delicious than the last. You felt his smile as he reached the dip of your clavicle, knowing that it would elicit a louder moan from you.

“Here?” you squeaked. You grabbed onto his shirt, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he started to push you back onto the table.

“Yes, here,” he answered, the upper half of his body hovering over you as you lay back on the table. Seungcheol smiled, “Unless you want to wait until we get home.”

“Uuuh,” you closed your eyes. Seungcheol slipped a hand beneath your white tank-top, his touch warm and confident as he hiked the fabric up your tummy. His fingers grazed the line of your bra, making you swallow hard.

“Maybe I should make you wait,” he whispered, close to your lips so you felt his breath on you. “That’s the punishment you deserve.”

“No, please,” you whined, linking your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him closer, he crashed his lips with your own, kissing you harder, fervently. Seungcheol chuckled into the kiss, sending a shiver that nearly vibrated in your bones.

“I need to hear it, baby,” he murmured, creating smacking noises with each ardent kiss he propped on your lips.

His hand moved from the center of your belly to the underside of your torso, and slid under your back to command it to arch for him. You deepened the kiss, outlining his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue before pulling back. “Take me here,” you whispered sultrily, a rush of adrenaline going through you.

Seungcheol paused for a brief moment, making you think that he would follow his plan of punishing you, to make you wait. But he pulled back, a sweet grin painting his beautiful face as he looked at you. Then it hit you—all of the moments shared in the past with him, moments like this, moments that felt like breaking the rules, crossing the line.

But you felt safe, all the times he touched you, or kissed you, you felt like it just made sense.

“Are you ready?” he asked playfully, the corner of his lip curving up slightly when all you could muster was a nod. After getting your silent permission, his hand inched upwards on your back, unclasping your bra with efficiency.

The next moments happened hurriedly. Seungcheol started discarding the pieces of your clothing one by one, kissing your lips like a hungry man, barely stopping for air. You mumbled out some incoherencies about wanting him right then and there, but you were too caught up to actually make sense of your own words.

Seungcheol giggled into your lips, the sound only making your blood dance beneath your skin. He was getting rid of your bra, after he had gotten your tank-top out of the way. The bite of the cool surface beneath you made your skin prickle.

But he just sighed at the sight of you, dipping his head to kiss your collarbones again. His wet lips made a trail of light kisses, from the nook of your collarbones down your chest. He kissed your breasts gently, getting soft moans out of you as each kiss felt even sweeter.

You grabbed his blond hair with one hand, keeping your other hand flatly on his lean back. “Cheol,” you sighed.

Your eyes fell out of focus. The sight directly in front of you was stark compared to the stars and colors you saw every time you closed your eyes. Hanging from the ceiling was a lamp, forming a warm yellow pool around you. It hurt to stare at, but Seungcheol was a far better sight.

He pulled back, standing up right. A sigh escaped him as he started taking your sneakers off without looking away from you. You were half naked, torso bare, your hair forming a halo around your head.

Your sneakers fell on the floor, one after the other and you got ready to push your hips up for him just as his hands approached the waistband of your jeans. “Hurry up,” you mumbled, a playful giggle bubbling in your mouth.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue, slapping a hand down your hip before continuing to undo the button and zipper of your jeans. “Patience, baby.”

Then painfully slow, he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your jeans, grabbing your panties too and then started pulling them both down. You planted your feet on the edge of the table just to push your hips up for him to slide down your jeans and panties altogether, letting them drop to the white and black checkered floor.

You sat up on the table, going to grab for the black t-shirt he wore to tear it off him. But Seungcheol caught both of your hands linking his fingers with yours to keep you from undressing him.

You whined pathetically, to which Seungcheol only replied with a joyful giggle. He closed the gap between his lips and yours, kissing you swiftly.

“Behave.” He said, the word coming out of him raspy. “Behave or this ends now.”

A whiny exhale escaped your lips—a complaint that you couldn’t form properly in time. You knew that Seungcheol was a man that loved doting on you, but you also knew that he could keep his word, specially if it meant to punish you.

He loved it—seeing you all whiny, pouty, and pathetic for him. He loved knowing everything that made you subdue to him, every caress, every kiss, and where to place them.

Without any other word, Seungcheol sank down to his knees, his hands leaving yours to grope around the inside of your thighs, pushing them gently. You leaned back on your hands, parting your legs for him.

Your heart palpitated frantically at the sight of him, his hands keeping your thighs spread for him to bury his face between them. He started slowly, making his way with gentle kisses that he littered all over your inner thighs.

“Easy,” he reminded you, a twinge of playfulness in his eyes as he blinked up to your face. His eyebrow twitched up slightly before he dipped his head to run his tongue on your skin.

The feeling of his tongue so close to your pussy sent you in a frenzy, quickly making you forget where you were. You moaned loudly—lewdly, gearing up for the sweet pleasure that would ensue.

You heard a soft gasp—a smile that painted his lips, right before he licked a fat stripe between your folds. The moment you felt his tongue slide on your wet pussy, you instantly dissolved into pleasure. He started teasing you, licking you up and down, drinking you in, lapping at your wetness eagerly.

Slipping a hand on the back of his head, you tangled your fingers around the soft strands of his blond hair. His tongue reached the top of your mound, stopping before trapping your clit between his soft lips. You moaned louder, indicating to him to continue, but soon the bar filled with the sound of your moans.

Seungcheol sucked lightly at your clit, pressing his tongue on the swollen bud before he started moving it from side to side, very softly, gently, as though he were fearful he might overstim you quickly. But it only made your pleasure higher, making the rest of your body go numb, leaving your mind blank.

You nearly froze in place—sitting down at the edge of the pool table, one hand steading you, the other holding his hair. You tried to hold the angle of your hips for him, for his mouth pleasuring your pussy. His tongue kept the side to side motion on your clit, only picking up the pace but slowly, taking his time with you.

Your moans were soft, airy, and he responded in low hums as though telling you how much he loved your taste, the way you sounded. You imagined then how the scene would look from afar—Seungcheol on his knees, pleasuring you as you sat wholly naked on the pool table of his bar.

“Fuck,” you gritted, closing your eyes as you tilted your head back in utter, sweet pleasure. “Cheol, don’t stop. Please, daddy,” you mewled, not caring how pathetic you sounded—because you were close.

And he knew, he knew that you were toying on the line of your release. But he didn’t switch the pace of his tongue, he didn’t stop sucking lightly at your clit. He only kept going, and going, and going.

It was the steadiness of his tongue on you that finally pushed you to the edge. Your orgasm was sweet, like gentle waves washing over you. And your moans were just as sweet, crying out his name as you came apart on the table, taking deep breaths as your climax reached higher, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You relished the waves of pleasure consuming you, the way they gently subsided, leaving your body languid. You thread back his blond hair with your fingers, just as he gave your pussy a couple of kisses, giggling playfully as you twitched at the feeling.

The next moments happened in silence, fluidly. Seungcheol slipped a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back to plant a kiss on your lips. You parted your mouth for him, just as he deepened the kiss, moving on your lips expertly. He hummed as your fingers searched at his belt blindly, unfastening with one swift move.

Just as you were undoing his pants, Seungcheol broke the kiss, crossing his arms down his belly to grab at the hem of his t-shirt, taking it off in one motion. He kissed you again, as if he would die if one more second passed without his lips on yours.

His breath hitched audibly when your hand reached beneath his boxers, your fingers circling around his girthy cock. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt how hard he was for you, humming into his lips as your hand rolled over the tip of his cock, feeling the wetness of the precum gathering in his slit.

“Hurry,” he echoed, making you giggle lightly.

You pushed his boxers down, getting his cock out. Seungcheol leaned forward, his forehead bumping with yours lightly as you started rolling your hand on his hard cock. He swallowed hard, grunting a little as you scooted closer to him, guiding him to your pussy.

“Baby,” he whispered, a twinge of desperation echoing in his voice.

You whimpered slightly at the feeling of his cockhead nudging in your entrance as you pushed him with your fingers, every inch stretching your walls deliciously. “Seungcheol,” you mewled.

He placed his hands on your ass, holding you in place as he sank inside your walls, exhaling deeply. “I love you,” he mumbled. It sounded as though he’d been dying to tell you those words, as though he’d been dying to feel your warmth.

“I love you,” you replied, your tone merely above a whisper. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him inside you, stuffing you full.

His hand found your cheek, the pad of his thumb slipping beneath your jawline to steal a kiss from your lips. Seungcheol started moving his hips with shallow thrusts, as though he wanted to pair his thrusts with the slow movement of his lips on yours.

But then it soon changed—with a raspy groan, the pacing of his hips took a greedy speed. His hand left your cheek, quickly returning to your ass, where he held you as his hips started snapping against you faster.

You gasped, a hand found his shoulder while the other was flatly planted behind you on the table. You parted your legs more for him, leaning back slightly so he could take all of you—take whatever he wanted. You loved seeing him like this—the carnal desire overpowering him, making him nearly feral.

His jaw was tightly clasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back slightly. “Fuck,” he gritted.

You knew something had shifted in the air. What was once flooded with just your moans alone was now accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin, low quiet groans from Seungcheol, and the squelching sounds of your dripping pussy.

The calculated rutting of his hips quickly took over you, and for a moment, you wanted to get lost in him. Seungcheol was utterly glorious, covered in a sheen layer of sweat from his forehead to his collarbones, a lazy smile spreading on his lips as he noticed the glazed look in your eyes.

You slowly lay back on the table, until your back was pressed on the cold surface. Seungcheol quickly grabbed your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders without slowing down the careless rutting of his hips.

The feeling became addictive, Seungcheol knew exactly what to do to bring you closer to the edge. He placed his hands on the table, at the height of your waist, pressing your thighs to your chest as he bent over. The rutting of his hips became deeper, making you feel the length of his cock, the tip hitting one spot that made you crazy. Quickly your moans became airy, until they were mere gasps.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I need you to come, baby,” he urged with a low tone.

“I’m there,” you sighed. “Fuck, daddy. Please come with me,” you said with an embarrassingly honeyed tone.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, a low grunt coming from him that told you just how close he was too. “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” he asked with fitful breaths.

You let out a whiny sound through your lips. “Yes, yes, please,” you gasped, succumbing to another sweet wave of pleasure. And then, before you could even think your words through— “Put a baby in me, Cheol.”

He gasped, his gaze snapping to your face. “You want that?” he asked breathlessly, his hips buckling against you. “Want me to make you a mommy?”

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so sweet that you could barely talk. You nodded, blinking the tears away from your eyes to see his face.

His mouth parted, a silent moan escaping before the thrusts of his hips went languid. “God, angel,” he groaned helplessly. “I'm cumming,” he whispered, right before the features of his face relaxed, his eyelids fluttered shut, a vein on his forehead popping out as he came with you.

Seungcheol groaned loudly, and you could tell by the depth of his thrust that he was cumming a lot inside you, filling you up. The thought drove you crazy, it nearly made you ask him to go again—to stop only when you were indeed pregnant. A shudder invaded you, making you whimper slightly.

He gave you a couple of sloppy thrusts, easing your legs gently from his shoulders to let you rest. You were both breathing hard, your ears buzzing as you tried to steady yourself. But the realization of what you said started sinking in. Seungcheol sighed, an eyebrow twitching up as he gave you an inquisitive look.

“What?” you whispered innocently, biting your bottom lip to avoid smiling.

“You’re cruel,” he pouted, standing up right so he could pull out of you, placing a hand on your belly as he pulled his hips from yours.

You shuddered at the loss. “Why?” you blinked up at him.

“Because—,” he giggled meekly, avoiding your eyes. “—you know what saying that does to me.”

You responded with a giggle of your own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, sitting up on the table as he handed you your panties.

But then—a loud, metallic snap. The shutting of the back door resounded from the back to where you and Seungcheol were. You winced in alarm, a hand quickly going to grab your tank-top.

Seungcheol quickly backed away, his hands steading you before you could make another move. “Stay there,” he cautioned, tucking himself back in his pants. His demeanor was so final that you had no choice but to ground yourself there.

He hurried to the hall that led to the back door, not bothering to put his t-shirt on. You sat on the edge of the table, with nothing to hear but the loud drumming of your heart. But he came back just as quickly, hand ruffling his hair, and a confused look on his face.

“It was Chan. Apparently he forgot his keys,” Seungcheol explained, walking up to where you sat still.

“Oh,” you uttered, frowning in confusion. “Did he…”

“Hear us? See us?” Seungcheol sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Probably,” he cocked his head to one side then the other. “Most definitely.”

Your gaze fell out of focus. “How long had he been here?” You asked dumbly, but then, realization hit. You narrowed your eyes at him. “You knew he was here.”

Seungcheol’s gaze met yours. “I didn’t know for sure,” he shrugged, hands still parked on his hips. “I heard noises. Only a few of us have the key to get in and I know Wonwoo closed the door on his way out.”

Your mouth fell open. “So he never left?”

He nodded, blinking slowly. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he said, placing himself between your legs again, hands finding the border of the table.

You gave him an incredulous look. “You wanted him to watch,” you said, wanting to muster up the slightest bit of annoyance at him. But his grin made it difficult for you to make any more accusatory remarks at him.

“I didn’t expect him to stay for so long,” he said, starting to chuckle at your expression in utter disbelief. “I thought he would just walk out but eventually I forgot,” he said, his eyes turning into half moons as he continued laughing.

You pushed one of his shoulders. “You forgot?!” you exclaimed, aghast.

“Baby, I don’t think you know,” he said, his tone rising as though he had discovered something.

You rolled your eyes. “Know what, exactly?”

He inched closer to you, taking advantage of your perplexion to grab your face with his hands. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered, his tone gruff and low. “You don’t know how good you sound, how good you feel,” he sighed, his eyes coasting over the features of your face. “All I could focus on was you.”

“So you’re telling me that you just forgot that Chan was just down the hall?” you asked in utter confusion.

“Eh—,” he laughed airily, “kinda?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Choi Seungcheol,” you accused.

Seungcheol smiled at you giddily, bringing a hand to the back of your head to prop a light kiss on your lips. He let out a light sigh, giving you another small kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of those words, a swarm of butterflies dancing crazily inside your stomach. “Okay,” you whispered.

Instead of moving, Seungcheol stayed there, with his forehead pressed against yours. “You owe me a date,” he muttered.

“I do,” you replied in kind, pressing your lips slowly against his.

“How about tomorrow morning?” he asked, laughing lightly at his own urgency.

“You got it, boss,” you said, pulling back to see that smile painting his face.

And for a moment, it was as though you had never left. Or at least that was how that fleeting moment felt.

The next day, morning light filtered through the curtains, painting soft, pale lines across the floor. The faint scent of Seungcheol’s deodorant lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of your shared bedroom. He had just finished showering after a workout at the gym downstairs, just as he always did every morning.

You were getting ready for your date—a quiet breakfast at a place of his choosing. He’d assured you that you’d like it. There was still some time before you had to leave, so you busied yourself with organizing your stuff—the small collection of your belongings you had brought into his apartment.

Right now, you were meant to be figuring out where to put your socks. You’d forgotten about them, still tucked away in your suitcase. After a moment of procrastination, you picked one of the drawers and started placing them inside, separated from Seungcheol’s.

“Baby,” he called from down the hallway. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Mm, yeah. Okay,” you agreed shortly.

It was impossible to ignore the looming feeling that it was odd to be living with Seungcheol. After so many times of wishing to go back to him, you were finally cementing something together.

You opened the first drawer, making space to transfer the clothes from your assigned drawer, carefully arranging his in the process.

That was until your knuckles brushed against—a velvet, square box buried beneath a apile of socks and underwear. At first, you thought to move it aside, to tuck it into a more secure corner of the drawer. But as your fingers curled around the soft fabric, you didn’t really think about what you were holding. Instinctively, you lifted the box, intending to open it.

Then, realization hit.

A sharp breath lodged into your throat, and your hand snapped away from the lid, flying instead to your mouth to stifle an abrupt, overwhelming rush of emotion. A cold shudder ran through your body, weakening your knees, forcing you to stumble back and drop on the edge of the bed.

“Baby?” Seungcheol’s voice drifted down the hall. “What’s wro–,”

But he stopped. Standing in the doorway, his eyes locked onto the small box in your hand. His expression didn’t shift, but the air in the bedroom grew thick and impossibly heavy.

Without a word, he took three steps forward, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“What’s this?” you asked, swallowing your fear, forcing yourself to meet his face.

Seungcheol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flickered between your face and the box, reading every emotion weighing down across your features. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper.

“Did you open it?”

You shook your head. But the weight of the moment pressed down on you, crushing, suffocating. His reaction alone told you everything you needed to know. You knew this box. It resembled the ones he had given you before on anniversary dates or on your birthday. This one was slightly different. The ones before were small, elegant, wrapped in significance. This one was more deliberate. More final.

“Baby, look at me,” he murmured. A warm hand cupped your face, and you choked on a sob at both the tenderness of his touch and the slow, painful realization of what lay inside that box.

For the first time, Seungcheol seemed at a loss for words. You could see the war harboring inside him, the regret, the hesitation, the fear. But his first instinct wasn’t to come up with explanations. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, his hands cupping your face again to ground you, steadying you.

You sucked in a shaky breath. “Seungcheol, what’s inside it?”

Seungcheol’s expression softened, his head tilting to one side when he saw your eyes begin to brim with big tears. “I need you to know something first,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “When I bought this… I never imagined we wouldn’t be together.”

His fingers curled around the box, as though he could somehow protect you both from the truth inside it. As though he wanted to protect you from the pain he went through.

“What is inside it?” you pressed again, unable to bring your voice any higher.

He exhaled sharply, resigned. He locked his gaze to yours, and you slowly got to see how in your eyes he found strength, his breath steadying. His lips parted, but he didn’t need to speak. The answer was already hanging in the air between you.

“Is it a ring?” Your body trembled as a sob tore through you, pain uncoiling in your chest, sharp and almost unbearable. “Please, Seungcheol, if it’s a ring—,”

“Yes,” he replied with a gentle tone, but you could feel the weight of the grief that he tried to keep away. “It’s a ring,” he admitted, watching you, reading every flinch, every breath. He took in all the pain that you showed. “It was meant to be yours.”

Your throat tightened painfully. “When?” the question left your lips before you could stop it, as though knowing the exact moment would somehow soften the burden.

Seungcheol let out a tiny, soft breath through his nose, as though composing himself too before facing the shock that his next words would bring you: “For your twenty fourth birthday.”

Your face twisted as you brought a hand to cover your mouth again, a painful sob tearing through you, ripping through the quiet grief looming in the room. Just days before your twenty-fourth birthday, you had left him. That night, you spent your birthday in a different country, alone.

“Baby, please, listen to me,” he muttered in a raw voice. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he reached to grab your hands. “Everything happened the way it did for a reason. It took me a long time to accept that.”

You could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. The ache in your chest spread through your entire body, making your head pulse. Tears burned as they slipped down your cheeks.

“But we’re here now,” he continued, his voice steadying even as his hand left yours and found your cheek again. “And we’re moving on. I wish things had been different for us, but we weren’t ready.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in a tiny tone. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you knew that if you did, the expression on his face would only shatter you completely.

His breath hitched as he suppressed a sob. “Because I couldn’t let that be the reason you stayed. I couldn’t do that to you,” his tone was shaky, and by the sound of it you knew that he was crying.

His words landed like a punch to the gut. You turned to him then, and the sight nearly broke you. His dark eyes were glassy, fearful. But even through his own pain, his first instinct was to comfort you—to hold you together. That was Seungcheol. Always looking out for everybody else before tending to his own wounds.

“All the time we lost….” You whispered, your throat tightening. “I could’ve stayed. We could’ve—,”

The words caught, breaking apart before you could even finish. Your mind spun, flashing through every possibility. Every what if. If he had proposed, you would’ve said yes. No hesitation. No doubt. Right now, you would be married. Living a different life. No sleepless nights. No endless aching. No running away, no trying—and failing—to forget him.

His fingers curled around yours and the velvet box, gripping it like it was the last piece of a life you had both left behind.

“But we weren’t ready,” he said, his voice was quiet, but firm, steady even as his own emotions still warred inside him. “I didn’t want to keep you here. I wanted you to keep going. To chase your dreams.”

“And what about what I wanted?” Your voice cracked as the question left you. Your mind was fogged under the pain you were carrying for years. It reverted you back to all of the times you said this to him, but now—now it felt like the first time you truly wanted an answer from him.

His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a hard line. He was hurting, too. You could see it in the way he kept his breathing controlled, but deep, like that would dissolve the pain you were also feeling inside your chest.

“Baby,” he whispered, the word soft in his lips, pleading. “We can’t keep letting this be a problem.”

He was right. You knew he was right. But you were stubborn.

“I can’t be here right now–,” you mumbled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand quite harshly. You pushed yourself up from the bed, making him stand abruptly too, his eyes widening. You knew that look. “I need to think. I need some fresh air.”

His stomach twisted painfully when you motioned to the door. “Wait–,”

“I’ll be back, I just...” Your lip quivered, and your tone thickened as the tears kept coming: “This is too much for me. I just need to be alone for a moment.”

Seungcheol stood rigid, watching as you hurried out. The sound of the front door snapping shut sent a shudder through him. And then—everything came flooding back. The feeling that had wrecked him when you left years ago. The pain. The abandonment. The heartbreak. He had sworn he would never feel that again.

But there he was. Breathing hard because the pain made him incapable of doing anything else.

You walked out. You left again.

“Wait,” he muttered, his instincts taking over. In a second, he was making his way towards the front door, and then the elevator, pulse hammering in his ears as he hit the button once, then twice—

“Come on,” he gritted through his teeth. “Come on!” His palm slammed against the button until the doors finally parted to him.

The moment he stepped outside of the building, his world spun wildly. The air felt think, suffocating. His heart stuttering like crazy, he felt dizzy.

Where did you go?

His hand snapped to his pockets, no phone. His stomach dropping when he realized that you hadn’t taken yours either. “Fuck. Fuck!” the words escaped him in a frantic breath as he shoved his hands through his hair. Think, Seungcheol. Calm down.

You could’ve gone to the park, he reasoned. Without another thought, he hurried off, crossing the street without a care. His feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted in direction to the park, cutting through the people strolling down the sidewalk. His chest burned, his mind raced.

Frantically, he scanned the park, weaving through the crowd, searching through the sea of faces.

And then, his heart clenched. A weight lifted from his heart so abruptly it almost made his mind spin again.

There you were.

Sitting on a swing, head leaned to the side, staring at the ground. Your fingers brushed under your eyes, wiping away your tears swiftly. The slight sway of the swing, the way your shoulders curled inward—it was all so painfully familiar.

For years, Seungcheol had believed that he had taken the hardest blow. He was the one who stayed. He had to rebuild on the ashes of what he had lost when you left him. While you—you walked away. He had convinced himself that you had suffered less.

But now, he saw it.

The weight of your dreams slipping through your fingers. You raised your gaze when a small child ran across the sandbox, releasing a cry of joy as his mom chased after him. You let your gaze fall to your lap again.

Guilt churned inside him.

Slowly, Seungcheol approached, each step forcing him to steady his heart. When your eyes finally found him, they softened at the sight of him as he finished approaching you and sat on the swing next to yours.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol muttered, swallowing a lump of anxiety in his throat. “I know you said you just needed air but... I had to make sure.”

You nodded, sniffing. “I get it,” you whispered shakily. “That’s okay, I was heading back anyways.” You shrugged, it was a small gesture. A tell.

And Seungcheol caught that. “Do you need more time?” he asked, releasing a sigh, as if the weight of all his past fears had made a fool of him again. “I can go back inside. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Okay,” you murmured, rubbing the back of your hand to wipe your tears, still looking at your shoes. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Okay,” he echoed softly, slowly rising from the swing. But just as his fingers slipped from the cold metal chain, yours caught his hand—your soft smaller fingers curling around his, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned back, encountering the sight of your teary eyes again. His gut twisted.

“Wait,” you whispered. “Stay. Please?” Your gaze dropped for a moment. “I’m sorry. I panicked,” you released a shaky breath, searching for words. “Can we… talk about this?”

The knot in his throat loosened, relief rushing through him. “Of course.”

You were still sitting on the swing, so he knelt in the sand before you, leveling himself with your gaze. His heart clenched at the sight of you—rosy cheeks, swollen lips, dark lashes clumped together from the tears you have shed.

Seungcheol didn’t know where to start. This was a mess, and deep down, he had known something like this would happen the moment you walked back into his life.

“Seungcheol,” you finally started, your voice quiet, but fragile, “why didn’t you tell me you had a ring?”

The question was one that you had asked before. But it still made his chest tighten.

“When I broke up with you, you could’ve told me,” you took in a big breath, trying to steady yourself.

Your hand was still gripping his, so he simply shifted, threading his fingers with yours. “I didn’t want to hold you back,” he admitted. “If I had told you I had was planning to propose, you would’ve stayed. And your plans, your dreams… I wanted you to have the chance to fulfill them.”

Your face crumpled. Eyebrows knitted, lower lip trembling. “I was miserable, Seungcheol,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with sorrowful tears. “I had to give you up to go after those dreams. But what I wanted—what I really wanted—was to start a life with you. I wanted kids, I wanted… everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, lowering his gaze, feeling ashamed. “I wasn’t ready. You were right about that. I let myself get caught up in dumb things—I thought I wouldn’t be enough for you. That I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.”

Seungcheol used to think that his mistakes were what led him to losing you. Slowly those mistakes turned into regrets. But when he looked at you now, he didn’t see mistakes.

He saw the love of his life. The girl who had stolen his heart upon first sight. The one who made him feel alive, who made him feel like he was himself again.

Reaching into the pocket of his sweats, he pulled out the small velvet box. His fingers trembled as he placed it in your hands again, wrapping your fingers around it.

“You have always been the one I wanted,” he whispered, voice shaking, tears slipping freely now. “From the moment we met, I knew it was you. It’s always been you.”

You curled your fingers around the small box he placed in your hands, you looked at it for a second before lifting your gaze to meet his.

He held on tighter, his eyes wide—fear flickering in them. “This is how sure I am,” he whispered. But if you decided to open that box right now, he wouldn’t hesitate. He was ready now.

You raised the box in your hand, outlining the sides of the lid with the tip of your trembling fingers. The knot in your stomach tightened. “Not like this,” you whispered, lowering the box to your lap. “I don’t want you to propose to me like this,” you could barely bring yourself to mutter those words.

The summer night breeze brushed the nape of your neck, cool against your heated skin. A slight shiver ran through you. And Seungcheol noticed. He always noticed. He looked at you longingly, as though seeing you in the back of his head too, a distant memory reverting him back to those uni days. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet somehow, his love for you hadn’t faded.

Slowly, you reached out, cupping his cheek. Your cold thumb brushed away the tear that had slipped down his face. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, but he welcomed it.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you said, your voice barely holding back emotion. “But I want us to do it right. We still need to rebuild some things in our relationship before we take the next steps. Maybe… maybe we should wait a little.”

Seungcheol caught your wrist, pressing a long kiss to the center of your palm. “I want that too, baby.” He murmured, pressing another kiss there. “I want us to be stronger than we were before. Let’s wait, then.”

“But only a little,” you added with a sweet, tearful giggle.

His chest swelled at the sound. “You’re the boss,” he smiled, and it was that smile, soft at the corners, making his dark eyes gleam. It reminded you of every reason you had ever loved him.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and slipping the box back into his pocket. “Let’s go home.”

Home.

For so long after you left him, that word had lost its meaning. You thought that you’d never get that feeling again with anyone else—the safety, the familiarity. There is no one you trusted more than him.

But you did now, you felt it again.

You took his outstretched hand, rising to your feet too. Walking side by side through the park with him toward the apartment where you were building something new with him. Something stronger.

You were home again.

✧ author's note: life is funny because i started this draft on nov 9 2023 and so much has happened ever since. i thought i'd never understand what going through a painful breakup would feel like. but now i do. and i also know what moving on feels like. funny, huh?

this chapter was shorter than i initially planned though, i hope you guys enjoyed it (?) haha idk, it was really heavy on the angst and i let this draft sit for months and months i feel guilty about that

also, an addendum: in the previous chapter, jeonghan makes a reference to the fic city lights chapter 9 and lights out chapter 1 for those that may not know. for those who do know, i kind of skipped the timeline by a looooong mile haha. but idc, i just wanted the angst and to torture hannie w some heartache

anyway,

✧ STAY TUNED FOR PART SIX !! ✧

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

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lovecla · 7 months ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ chapter warnings: mention of depression/depressive episodes, calories, bad relationship with food and shitty family, hurt/comfort.

➴ word count: 2.3k

💌 from me to you: and now, TYPA has officially surpassed IYLMLMK word count!! how are we feeling about that? i’m feeling like the world’s biggest yapper ever but i just feel like quinn and maddie’s relationship reaches a whole other level of love and intimacy and i want u guys to feel that. by the end of this story, please let me know (hah) if i reached my goal :) enjoy this chapter and ily all so much! wrote this while listening to madison beer and while it was raining, cannot think of a better combo. also, this chapter hurts and heals me at the same time, and i hope it does the same to you.

౨ৎ

2024, MAY.

“THIS ISN’T much casual of us, is it?” you joke as you leave the car, opening the back door so you could get Bella while Quinn got your bags.

“Where’s the fun in being casual?” he jokes back, making you bite your lips, trying to hide your smile.

You and Quinn had decided to start over again, and take it easy. You were best friends and he knew you like no one else, but you grew up and, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you’d changed.

When he suggested that you go out for date nights and things people do whenever they want to be with someone, you thought that it would be a great idea. Spending time with him was one of your favorite things about living in Vancouver, so there was nothing to worry about.

Until he started to ask questions– nothing unexpected, just things like “is your favorite color still blue?” (no, I prefer purple now,) or “do you still like chocolate chip pancakes?” (more than I like myself, really,). And in the beginning it hadn’t bothered you, no, it had actually made you feel happy, wanted.

Until you remembered who you’d become.

After he and his family left, it was just you and your thoughts alone with each other, both wanting to run away but stuck inside your head. It was the things you heard from your mom, the fact that she liked to remind you that you were nothing but a shadow inside your own family and unless you were perfection itself, you wouldn’t have anything more than what she was willing to give you.

It was hearing your father, who barely spoke to you, yell at you for the tiniest things and look at you like you were the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

It was watching Peter, who once had been your best friend, your rock, your safe person, distancing himself from you, ignoring you whenever you spoke to him, leaving the sink full of dishes whenever that housekeeper wasn’t around because he knew you’d be the one cleaning them.

It was too much, and you were only fifteen. You were alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the intense, obsessive stalking of Quinn’s Instagram account, trying to understand why it was so easy for people to leave you behind.

But you didn’t blame him, or your family, how could you? It was all your doing. Maybe if you hadn’t spent too much time at the Hughes’ house, maybe if you hadn’t asked Peter to play with you so much, maybe if you were thinner and more like the models that worked at your mom’s magazine, maybe if you had been born a boy who also went to Med school, like your brother, then maybe, just maybe, things would’ve been different.

And then you moved to Los Angeles and just when you thought that things would get better, that you would get better, it all starts again. The dark days where you couldn’t do anything besides laying on your bed all day, sleeping for hours and eating perhaps a single meal per day– when and if you managed to get out of bed.

Showering became a dreadful thought because just the idea of seeing yourself in the mirror made you want to disappear. Realizing that the girl who once loved everything she touched, the girl that wore her heart outside of her body like an accessory turned into this lifeless body that rotted in bed for days made your stomach hurt and the tears run down your face.

Nicholas had been the one who helped you get out of that dark, evil place your mind had trapped you in, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it. He suggested that you should adopt a dog, the idea initially making you laugh because “I don’t want to can barely take care of myself, Nicholas, why should I adopt another living being?”. But he said that maybe you just needed a reason to keep going, and a pet could be one.

You ignored his advice, because it sounded ridiculous to you. But, one day, when you were on your way home from work, you walked past a shelter and decided to just take a look– leaving an hour later after a long cuddle session with the old dogs and Bella in your arms, eyes wet with tears when you noticed her sitting by herself, alone.

I know what it feels like, you answered when one of the workers asked you what made you choose her.

And she helped you get better, day by day, week after week. You finally spoke more than five words a week and you weren’t sleeping by yourself for the first time in years.

It felt nice to take care of someone.

But even though you got better, some days that sad, ugly feeling still made your skin crawl and your head hurt. It still came back, it still made you feel like shit.

And you didn’t want people to see that, you didn’t want Quinn to see that.

You knew that he would worry and try to find a way of helping you, just like he did whenever you had a sad day when you were younger, but you couldn’t do that to him, it wasn’t fair.

Besides that, you’re going to leave Canada in September. This thing you had going on with Quinn, no matter how happy it made you, was temporary, it wasn’t meant to last forever.

So you had to make sure that the time you spent with him was anything but perfect.

“This is so pretty” you compliment the cabin he had rented for the weekend, your first weekend off ever since you started working with your favorite brand, watching Bella roll on the green grass. “Feels like a movie.”

Quinn chuckles, opening the door for you and Bella before he gets inside with your and his bags.

If you thought the outside was pretty, the inside was ten thousand times better. The interior was a mix of stone with dark wood, the walls covered with floor to ceiling windows and the floor filled with fluffy, warm rugs. The living room couch could perfectly fit twenty people, and the kitchen had the most beautiful view you’d ever seen.

Bella started running around the second you unleashed her, jumping on the couch and sniffing the rugs, going upstairs and barking happily.

“I think Bella also likes the place,” you smile, getting closer to Quinn and kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer before initiating a sweet, gentle kiss, briefly caressing your tongue with his. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste, a weird mixture that you couldn’t get enough of.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweets,” he whispers against your lips before giving you a peck. “I asked the owners to fill up the pantry with baking stuff. I know you like to bake when you’re stressed.”

Your first instinct was to deny that you were stressed and say that you were just fine, but as always, he could see right through you. It had been a stressful week, with weird schedules and locations, besides getting used to living in another city, again.

But you thought you were doing a great job at hiding your true feelings from Quinn.

Well. Maybe not.

“I’m much better now,” you answer, not exactly lying. You are much better now. “But I guess it won’t hurt to bake a pie or two.”

“Great.” He hugs you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Let’s organize our things, and you’re free to go.”

You smile, excited to forget about your responsibilities for two days straight.

౨ৎ

BAKING FOR Quinn was now your favorite activity.

He didn’t try to get in your way like most people do whenever they see someone cooking, no. He sat on one of the stools and played with Bella while you explained to him the steps for baking the most perfect blueberry lattice pie in the entire world.

You noticed something while spending these past few weeks with Quinn: whenever you were around him, it was like calories and dieting didn’t matter. It was almost as if that voice that lived inside of your brain, who liked to remind you that you shouldn’t, couldn’t gain weight— because then you wouldn’t be perfect, the only thing your mom wanted for you— vanished, and only nice thoughts remained.

You have read about this before, in books and posts online— about people getting better because of other people. And even though you knew it was possible for someone to enjoy living again because of something (it happened with you and Bella), the thought of getting better because of another person hadn’t crossed your mind before having Quinn back in your life again.

It was nice.

The pie was ready after an hour and a half, looking deliciously tasty and perfect, which made you smile and snap a bunch of pictures of it.

You and Quinn sat down at the living room table, watching the sun setting through the windows and arguing with each other about which place had the nicest sunset: Vancouver or Los Angeles. You cut him a slice, which earned you a quick peck on your lips and a raspy thank you, watching as he munched on the pie, satisfied with his pleased reaction.

“This is my first time eating blueberry pie ever since you left.”

Quinn’s statement makes you pause, fork mid air, a slice of pie falling back onto your place.

You frown, confused. “What do you mean? You spent the last seven years without eating your favorite pie? Why?”

“What made this pie my favorite one was the fact that you were the one baking it,” he laughs humorlessly, staring at the half eaten slice on his plate. “When my mom tried making it for me a few years ago, I ended up snapping at her and earning a slap from my dad.”

“That wasn't very nice of you,” you chuckle, putting the fork down. “But I get what you mean. After you left I–” I stopped caring about everything else. “I stopped baking. Mom didn’t appreciate how caloric my food was and my dad—” he called my cooking disgusting once. “Well, he’s not a fan of sweets.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, and you’re not even sure why.

“What? No, it’s fine, you didn’t do anything wrong by leaving—”

“I meant I’m sorry about your family.”

You stare at him, fighting back the tears that immediately formed in your eyes. Blinking them away, you shrug.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t, Maddie, and you know it.” He grabs your hand underneath the table, running his thumb up and down on the back of your hand, the familiar touch making you smile.

“They’re the only family I have,” you tried to sound playful, only being half successful. “It’s alright, Quinny, I swear. Besides, we’re not here to talk about my family.” you change the topic quickly, not wanting to ruin the vibe with stories about your not so happy family.

He raises his right eyebrow at you. “Then why are we here?”

“Bella, look at him asking dumb questions,” you turn around, talking to Bella who was currently extremely busy destroying her carrot shaped toy on the carpet. “We’re here to watch my favorite movies and drink hot chocolate.”

“It’s May,” he points out.

“And?”

“It’s almost summer. No one drinks hot chocolate in May,”

“Oh my God, should we call the police? Should we invite Willy Wonka?” you laugh, getting off the chair. “Come on. I know you want it.”

“Do I at least get to choose the movie?” he theatrically sighs, also getting off the chair and following you around the gigantic cabin.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You end up letting him choose the movie while you prepared the hot chocolate, which later you would regret, because he had chosen The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, a movie that you had never seen before and will probably never watch again.

You were sitting beside him, trying your hardest to hide your tears and sniffles, because, surprisingly, Quinn looked like he was enjoying the depressing, extremely sad movie.

But you probably weren’t doing a great job because— “Baby?”

You only hum, hiding your face in your knees.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he whispers, changing his position on the couch, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to his chest, adjusting your body so you were lying on top of him, face buried in his neck. “There’s no need for you to cry, baby.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed and somewhat childish for breaking out like this in front of him, when he was clearly enjoying the movie.

“What are you sorry for? There’s nothing wrong with crying because you’re sad,” he kisses your temple, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling one of your thighs up, fitting you perfectly against him. “I should be the one saying sorry. I saw Jim Carrey and thought the movie was going to be funny.”

You let out a wet chuckle, inhaling his comforting scent and wishing you could stay like this forever.

He runs his thumb on your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You feel him moving around and suddenly the movie’s sounds stop, and you wonder what he’s doing, too lazy to look up and see it for yourself.

But after Mabel’s characteristic laugh, you find yourself smiling and lifting your head to stare at Gravity Falls playing on the huge TV.

“Do you still like this dumbass cartoon?” Quinn asks, making you smile wider.

“It’s not dumb. And, yeah, it’s still my favorite.”

“Good.”

After that you both stay quiet for a long time, the only sounds coming from Bella’s snores, the TV, and occasionally, your laugh.

Quinn knew exactly what to do with you, even when not even you knew what had— needed— to be done. He held you close that night and your heart felt lighter and steadier.

You wanted to be his.

So. Bad.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, justinbieber, lhughes_06 and 701,013 others

madisoncarter spring day

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user1 ?????????

user1 MADISON WHAT THE HELL

vic_alonso Oooooh myyy goddd

maddiecarter_updates Is this a soft launch? What?

user2 maddiecarter_updates you know shit is bad when even maddiecarterupdates is confused 😭

user3 let’s not assume things guys omg leave her alone

user7 madison you’re going to get fatter with all these carbs xx

jackhughes user7 fuck off.

user4 GUYS LOOK AT QUINN’S STORY

user5 user4 LMFAO THEYRE NOT EVEN HIDING IT

user6 user4 I’m losing the idgaf war…

user8 user4 DID YOU GUYS SEE JACK’S COMMENT WHICH ONE OF THE HUGHES IS SHE BANGING

_quinnhughes added a new story!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

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awyuca · 14 days ago

Text

narcissist - na jaemin

warnings: photographer!ex!jaemin, fem!reader, mention of arguments ig cursing and stuff like that. rushed and not proof read

wc: 1.2k

୨ৎ

narcissist. thats the last thing you ever called jaemin before the two of you broke up. it was nearing three years since your breakup, yet you still found yourself lingering outside of his newly opened exhibition , too curious to ignore it, yet too heartbroken to walk in. your parents had kept in touch with jaemins parents, which is how you found out about his first exhibition. the longer you stared at his name on the sign in front of the door, the more vivid the bitter memories of your arguments came rushing to your mind. he never believed he did anything wrong, always shifting the blame on you. and you let him. until one day you got so fed up with his tantrums, you called him a narcissist. later that night, he left your apartment and the two of you broke up via text the morning after. the sound of the door opening brought you out of your thoughts. you looked at the couple leaving his exhibition. "maybe i should go inside.." you mumbled to yourself, finally gaining the courage to open the sleek glass doors.

as you walked in, you stared at the minimalistic white interior. you smiled to yourself softly, you could already tell this exhibition was truly his. you slowly walked to the wall you were nearest to, seeing pictures of scenery...more scenery..lots of scenery. you came across a picture of his cats, smiling to yourself. you loved his cats, he usually brought them when he stayed at your apartment. you stayed staring at the photograph for a bit, wondering how his cats were doing now. at the end of the wall, you came across a larger photograph of his cats...and a girl...who looked oddly similar to you...and also had the same jewelry as you. "wait thats...me...? what the fuck?" you muttered to yourself in shock. why would he put a picture of his ex in his exhibition..? you read the description of the photo. "beautiful girl playing with cats." you paused. "why..?" you sighed to yourself. you continued to the next wall, still in shock from the picture. of you. his ex. lost in thought, you didnt realize you were about to bump into someone, until you felt yourself collide with another body. "shit." you mumbled. "im so sorry! are you...." you trailed off as you looked up. of all people, you had to bump into jaemin. "...okay?" you continued your sentence nervously, hoping he didnt recognize you but you knew he would. "y/n...?" jaemin said, the shock on his face genuine. "um...yeah. hi." you said awkwardly. "i was just about to leave actually. i just wanted to see a bit for myself." you smiled politely, trying your best to spare yourself from this awkward and embarrassing moment. "oh. but i just saw you walk in not even 15 minutes ago?" he asked, looking truly sad that you were seriously about to leave. "well...my parents told me about it..so i just wanted to check it out, i mean...its your first exhibition. its nice." you said, hoping that you became one with the floor right that moment. "before you go... can i at least show you something?" he asked, he extending his hand for you to take, silently hoping you'd want to take it. you hesitated at the hand in front of you, not wanting to make him feel bad, you took it. he led you to another wall. a wall filled with pictures of your memories together. "jaemin.." you gasped "what... is this?" you mumbled as you looked at him. "why are you surprised? you know that you were my inspiration y/n, and you still are." he smiled as he met your eyes. "i was hoping you'd come... i wanted to talk to you about something..." he said, now looking down at the floor. "i just wanted you to know that i really-" he started, but he was interrupted by someone. "yo dude, theres a bunch of people waiting to meet you in the other room." the voice said. you looked at him, recognizing him as jaemin's friend mark. you never really interacted with jaemin's friends while you two were together. jaemin had jealousy issues, especially towards you interacting with other men. "is there a lot of people?" jaemin asked, seeming a bit annoyed. "yeah dude... kind of." mark scratched his neck. jaemin sighed. "ill be right there... just give me a second." you looked at jaemin, seeing the annoyance in his eyes. "so... is this goodbye?" you said awkwardly. "no. its not, you have my number. ill call you later because i want to finish this conversation." he said. "your number is still the same?" he asked, to which you nodded. "yeah. it is... ill talk to you later then?" you looked around, trying desperately to avoid his eyes. "yeah... bye." he nodded before walking to the second room of the exhibition, which you didnt even notice when you walked in. you stood there a few minutes before looking at the photographs framed so nicely on the wall. his words kept running through your mind.. you are still his inspiration. despite your breakup. you are still his inspiration.

you drove home in silence. the only thing in your head were his words. what was he even going to tell you? you were itching to know. he wanted you to know that he really what? you felt stupid but you couldnt help but feel upset at mark, did he really have to interrupt in that second? it couldnt have waited? thoughts ran through your head, all revolving around jaemin.

walking into your apartment, your head was still clouded with thoughts of jaemin. you read the clock on the microwave. six thirty-five pm. too early for him to not be busy anymore. hoping to ease your mind, you decided to take a shower, a long one, just to clear out your thoughts. you walked into your room, throwing your bag carelessly on your bed, grabbing a pair of pajamas and walking into the bathroom. as you washed your hair, you tried scrubbing hard enough. maybe that would erase everything from today. the whole interaction at his exhibition. the fact you even went into the exhibition in the first place.

after what felt like an hour you had been in the shower, you forced yourself out of the comfort of the warm water because unfortunately your water bill didnt pay itself. you wrapped the towel around your body, then picked up your phone, a little part of you hoping he called. but he didnt. maybe he forgot about the whole conversation in the midst of his spotlight. maybe that was the best outcome of this. you sighed as you put down your phone, getting dressed and almost running to your bed, groaning as your head sunk into the pillow.

yet you couldnt fall asleep.

you tossed and turned restlessly, your mind clinging onto thoughts of jaemin. keeping you awake. you couldnt believe that after almost three years of being separated, you were losing sleep over him. you checked the time on your phone. eleven twenty-seven am. you had been tossing and turning for nearly four hours. you sighed as you put down your phone, trying to shut your eyes and magically fall asleep.

it worked, and you finally began drifting off. but then you jolted up at the sound of your phone ringing. you groaned as you picked up your phone in annoyance, checking to see if it was someone important or not.

it was jaemin.

you tried to compose yourself as you picked up the phone, the unbearable desperation to hear what he wanted to say to you returning.

"hello?" you said as you picked up the phone, mentally beating yourself up for how annoyed you sounded.

"y/n? hey. sorry im calling so late." he apologized.

#nct x reader #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin

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aurorasgate · 2 years ago

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Aaaa I would love maybe a fic? With satoru gojo and non-sorcerer s/o who are forced into an arranged marriage. And s/o wants to make it work but satoru is a brat and refuses to be nice to her but he can't deny his growing feelings for her because she is a lovely girl and then maybe something happens like a curse attack and he almost loses her and feels very guilty for how he's been acting and confesses? Happy ending please

I love angst to fluff stories so much

Thankyou in advance! I love your writing

will you spend the night and maybe your life with me?

satoru gojo x fem!reader | 9.1k+ words

warnings: arranged marraige au, brat!gojo, sweet+patient!reader, hurt/comfort, mentioned of neglectful/hurtful marriage, blood and injury mentions, feral gojo, the fushiguro kids are basically yours so a little found familyish i couldn't help myself, uhh i think that's all but please let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: so um. i think i got a little carried away with this one and i love it and am so exctied about it hehe i hope you enjoy it! <3 thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting something babes!🥺💕

satoru always wondered if before your wedding you were aware that your to-be husband was not happy about being wed. not when this decision was forced upon him by his family and the higher ups of the jujutsu world. he wondered if you blame him for his actions, for his shitty attitude that showed every bit of his distaste, if you wished to marry someone you loved, someone who could treasure your heart and give you their own in return. but surely you had known, just as he had, that you would be married off for politics whether you liked it or not, that marrying for love was not in the cards.

for these many months he can’t say he’s made it easy for you, he knows he hasn’t, and yet you’ve kept smiling, kept being your caring and loving self and putting effort into a man that thus far hadn’t given you much in return. you put up with his lack of kindness, kept welcoming him home and bidding him sweet dreams before sleeping in separate rooms even though for far longer than he’d like to admit now he never said anything in return. you kept leaving sweets on his desk when you knew he’d be up late doing the paperwork he’s always been putting off when he’s never once thanked you for it. he watched you love the fushiguro children just as he had and made him question if perhaps you could love him too.

the first time the question came to mind, when you had scolded both him and megumi for doing something reckless with no anger but rather genuine worry in your eyes, it was the quickest of thoughts. one he pushed out and forgot just as easily as it had come before brushing off everything you said about being more careful to him and megumi. but as more time passed, as you continued to be your lovely self, the thought kept coming, staying for longer, evolving into more questions like.. could he love you- was he already falling in love with you when he was supposed to loathe you? pretend to play the loving and doting husband in public when at home you used to be nothing but strangers but he hates the thought of that now.

being a stranger to your kindness, ignorant of your smile, never being blessed with the melody of your laugh.. he could hardly imagine his life without you but after spending so long rejecting you, pushing you away, was it too late to make amends, to maybe have you love him in return?

right now, while he was trying to sleep, was not the time to be deciding on such things. not when he felt it easier to give in under the light of the moon on your skin and your cute sleepy voice. yet he was restless, his thoughts wandering back to you; if your room felt as soon as his did, if you had eaten dinner alone or with the kids since he hadn’t made it back from his mission until late, if he had even spoken to you at all today except for the text he sent telling you not to wait up for him when you asked if he’d be home for dinner.

brought from his thought, his cerulean eyes are drawn to his closed door, his attention peaked at quiet footsteps and the lights in the kitchen being turned on and dimmed. he taps the screen of his phone to see the time; 2:27 am and doesn’t think twice before getting up from bed and going to the kitchen himself, not caring about putting a shirt on.

you don’t seem to notice him leaning against the wall with his hands in his sweats pockets as you sip a glass of water, your lower back resting against the kitchen island. you're in an oversized shirt and tiny shorts that makes his gaze linger on your body, in your pretty frame, but when he comes back to your face he notices the tears streaming down your cheeks, the tremble of your hands.

lifting from his spot he calls your name, more gentle than he remembers doing before and finds himself frowning at your reaction.

“oh!” you stand a little straighter, put your cup down, try to pretend tears aren’t clinging to your lashes and smile even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. “i’m sorry satoru, i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t,” he says, deciding to close the distance between you. he’s always been quite soft to the tears of others but with you.. the sight sinks into his heart like claws of a nasty curse and makes him nearly irrational in the way he would do anything to make your tears stop. your eyes widen a bit in surprise at how close he is to you but you don’t back away from him, don’t resist him when he towers over your shorter frame and reaches for your cheek to wipe a tear you couldn’t hold back. “what's wrong?”

“it’s nothing,” you try to brush it off still with that fake smile and he hates it.

“you’re a terrible liar,” he voice is soft, playful, hopefully hiding the feelings of his heart tightening in his chest and the way his fingers twitch against your skin as he tries to swallow it down. what were you doing to him..

“am not!”

cute, he thinks at your pout and glaring eyes with no bite behind them, though he must admit he much prefers when you smile at him.

is all of you this soft? he ponders as his touch ghosts along the skin of your cheek to under your jaw, curled fingers resting there, keeping your gaze lifted and on him but you could easily pull away if you really wanted to.

“tell me, please,” again he’s speaking so tenderly, with a smile that was meant to fluster, maybe even comfort you and by your reactions anyone could tell how foreign this is to you both. your cheeks flush with warmth and you try to hide your eyes from him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt while deciding what to do, what to say, but you still don’t pull away from his grasp and he’s resisting the urge to pull you closer, to kiss your forehead and tell you it’s okay, the strongest was your husband after all, all the while unable to stop his deepening breaths.

if this was at the beginning of your marriage satoru isn’t sure he would have checked on you. even just a few weeks ago he would have been asking himself how much he should hold back his affections, his comfort, if something like this were to happen but he isn’t sure he could do that anymore, hold back, and those questions hadn’t passed his mind since you saw your sad state tonight.

“it was just a silly nightmare,” you eventually say, quiet and weak. you still don’t look at him but there's no hiding the way you bite at your bottom lip. “i’ll be fine, i just need a few minutes to calm down more.”

“i’ll stay with you then.”

your eyes shoot back to him, confusion and surprise painted on your face and he’s surprised too. what reason would you have for feeling comfort within him or wanting it in the first place? he knows you have every right and reason to tell him no but he just.. doesn’t want to see you cry anymore and he would do anything to take your sorrow away even though all he had to offer you right now was himself.

“a- are you sure?” you stutter, nervousness laced in every word and fuck you look like you’re going to start crying all over again but he knows he deserves this, the guilt building within him. “you don’t have to-”

he pulls you into him before you can talk either of you out of this, effectively cutting off your words and pressing you against his chiseled chest. “come one y/n. can’t a husband want to comfort his wife? indulge me, yeah?”

he still feels shitty but the heat of your cheeks against his chest, the speechlessness he rendered in you is quite the stroke to his ego and he knows he’s won you over, at least for tonight, as you wrap your arms around him and rest your palms against his bare back.

it’s quiet, the muted sounds of your breaths and beating hearts in both your ears and as minutes pass, satoru feels you relax against him and decides he’s going to try pushing his indulgence more, actually try to be a nice and loving husband. the husband he should have been from the start..

“let’s go lay down,” he suggests and you tiredly nod in agreement, letting him go too quickly, before he unwraps his own arms, but he doesn’t stray far from your side.

turning off the kitchen lights behind him, he follows you into your bedroom like a lost puppy. if he’s being honest, he hasn’t spent much time in here despite it being right next to his own room and as he slips into bed beside you, the sheets of his own wife so unfamiliar to him, he hopes you’ll tell him if this isn’t what you want but more than that, he hopes you won't reject him. not like he had to you for these months when you didn’t deserve it..

“satoru, you - you really don’t have-” you stammer as he collects you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, not a bit of infinity between you as he spoons your smaller frame, collecting your heat. normally he’d have a smirk tugging his lips at your shyness, how easily flustered you become while still clinging to him, but more than anything he cuts you off because he didn’t want to hear your finish telling him he doesn’t have to.

he knows he doesn’t. who knows how many nights you’ve cried alone in this bed but he won’t let that happen anymore, not as long as you were his.

“i said i’d stay with you, didn’t i?”

satoru has always had a specific vision on what love is and he knows he has loved. like in the way he loves his students, his friends, two strong, amazing, children and sweet mochi. he knows that love isn’t painted in roses and blanketed in crystalline sugar, especially when you were a sorcerer. love is complicated, messy. love is a curse. but it's more medeled now, tempting to give into, with his inability to deny what’s in front of him, with the way his heart reacts to you.

or in this case, the way it reacts to the absence of you.

it’s been a few weeks since you had that nightmare and he held you till morning, his hands caressing and soothing you for long after you fell asleep. the following nights he found himself back in your bed even though neither of you spoke about it, but you hadn’t protested either. the last night before this work trip you had whispered his name in your sleep, reached out and clung to him, when you stirred as he joined you after a late night dealing with curses. the past three nights he's been far from home, as work often took him, and more restless than he’s been in a long time.

he can’t ignore or distract himself from how often you pop up in his mind throughout the day, enough so he’s going through his phone pictures as he’s being driven from place to place and frowning at how little pictures of you there are in his album. he had started taking more of you recently, most of which when you weren’t looking or weren’t aware you had captured your husband's eyes but it didn’t feel like enough. throughout the day he's missing you and your smile and the texts you scarcely send to each other aren’t long or personal enough to make him feel even a little better. he’s coming to realize how much more he preferred to have you sleeping next to him rather than sleeping alone and the way it could make him hustle to finish this assignment just to get home a little quicker. tomorrow he'll return to tokyo, a day before he was supposed to, but even that thought can’t stop the bubbling pot of his heart and the lid that rocks anxiously at the thought of you and your marriage thus far.

in the quietness of his dim hotel room, the food he didn’t have the appetite to eat cold on the table in front of the chair he sits in, satoru fiddles with his phone between long fingers and wonders what you’re doing right now, if you miss him too, if it’s too late for you-

love was messy and complicated indeed but as his phone rings twice and a moment later his reflection is replaced with your visage, that anxious rocking simmers.

“hey satoru,” you smile as you say his name, not noticing how he returns it in full with your eyes focused elsewhere.

your phone wiggles from side to side while tsukimi adjusts it to rest on the ledge of the kitchen window in front of the sink. you must have just finished with dinner, washing the dishes while the kids cleaned up behind you.

“hi sugar.” oh that gets your attention just as he hoped. he can hear the clattering of dishes as you drop them, see the flush of your cheeks through the camera and how adorably shy you are when you look up at him finally and see he’s without his blind fold, eyes soft and locks of snowy white hair resting over his eyebrows. his attention is fully on you and it seems to be the giggles of the teenage girl whipping off the counter near you that snaps you back to reality and causes you to return your attention back to the dishes, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“is everything okay?” you ask, that cute shyness to your voice.

of course it was just like you to worry for him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“other than the fact i’m missin’ home, yeah.” home, he chooses because even though he was missing you, and meant his answer just the same, his stubbornness had him holding back.

while you finish the dishes you chit chat, the kids interrupting every now and again to talk to him or you about one thing or another until you were all giggling and he was aching to teleport back home, to be there drying plates that you hand him until you’re swaying in the kitchen to music that isn’t playing anywhere but your hearts and the kids are calling you gross before going to their own rooms.

he had never done that before but as he watched you all through his phone screen, he hoped it wasn’t too late for that with you.

“how was your day?” he asks when you grab your phone from the window seal, probably ready to say goodnight to him but he wasn’t nearly satisfied with this short interaction.

“well.. megumi got in trouble at school again today,” you sigh and shake your head, the background behind you changing from the kitchen to your bedroom, the lights in the far hallway from the kids room flickering on before they close their doors. he’s sure you handled megumi in your elegant way that both the boys have learned they aren’t immune to.

satoru chuckles. “did he give you any trouble?”

“you know he’s not really like that with me,” you smile, genuine and sweet and god he wishes he could kiss your lips. “he only gives you trouble because you’re just as bad as he is.. maybe worse.” you giggle at that last part and there is no way denying or ignoring the way it makes him burst with warmth.

“oh yeah?” he teases right back. “bet you’re missing your annoying husband though, huh?”

maybe he shouldn’t have said that because your prolonged silence made his throat feel tight, his palms sweaty but before he can say anything to make up for it, to change the subject, you reply, not looking at the camera.

“.. the house is lonelier when you’re not here,” you admit, quiet and low. “i guess i’ve gotten a little used to sharing a bed with you.”

so you were having a hard time sleeping without him too..

“me too,” he admits, letting out a sigh like your confession had lifted a weight off his chest, pumped hope into his veins. would you care to know just how much he misses you? “but i’ll be home soon so just wait a little longer for me, yeah?”

“o-okay.”

to the surprise of many satoru was at jujutsu tech reporting on his mission right on time, though he was leaving just as swiftly as he came. he purposely didn’t tell you he’d be coming home one day early because he knew you’d be coming to the school tomorrow to bring megumi to train with some of the other students. it would still be another two year before megumi was a first year himself but he had gotten plenty acquainted with the current first years through satoru. he wanted to surprise you, whisk you away while the kids were busy and before more work could come his way, try to ease the longing in his chest that had weighed on him like a boulder since he spent that first night without you beside him.

but what weighed on him when he saw you, unaware of your husband's arrival and under the attention of one of the new teachers, was much much worse and far nastier than his yearning. it was ugly and all consuming and made his mind run so quickly he was going to get whiplash.

the man couldn’t be any more obvious that he was flirting with you and it made satoru seeth, his chest filling with deep, hot breaths. couldn’t he see the wedding band on your finger? as a non sorcerer you weren’t entirely a part of the jujutsu world yourself so maybe he could justify that this man simply didn’t know who you were but even when you likely had not wanted to, you were always diligent in wearing the proof of your commitment.

the proof that you were his, the one and only mrs. gojo.

and what were you doing? laughing and talking with this man like you were so familiar, more familiar than you were to your own husband.

were you so fed up with satoru but so unwilling to end your arranged marriage that you’d go behind his back like this and entertain another person? if he was in a more calm state of mind he could be more rational, remind himself that this was not in your nature, not even with the way he had treated you had you ever been a person he thought would cheat. but with so much uncertainty between you two, the way he refused to admit those three words despite the fact he found them occupying his heart and mind anytime he thought of you, how he had no idea how you felt in return because he had forced you to shut yourself away..

the man reaches for you, helping you brush a stay piece of hair from your face to behind your ear and lingers with a smile that satoru swore he would wipe right off his smug face. your fingers touch, the man lacing his between yours for a moment before you pull away with burning cheeks.

satoru feels like he’s losing it, losing you, letting his emotions guide him to your side to snake a hand around your waist and step so very close, not letting the breeze between you, using his other hand to lift your chin and bring you in for a soft and fleeting kiss.

“i’m home baby,” he coos before kissing your cheek, a little for show but mostly because the only thing he had the will to hold back right now was his physical strength.

“s-satoru!” you’re beyond flustered, he can feel the beating of your heart through your clothes and the shake of your hands that hold onto his dark jacket.

he doesn’t give you much more time to say or do anything else before he looks down at the man you were speaking with and even through his blind fold you could tell how serious, how intimidating, his expression was. he held onto you so protectively, powerful hands sinking into your skin like you would slip through his grasp if he let you go but soft enough you wouldn’t break under the pressure. the way you don’t push away, don’t fight him and keep holding onto his jacket, your eyes only on your husband, are the only things grounding him from losing it completely..

“keep your hands off of my wife,” he spits like venom, accentuating the last part especially so before whisking you away without saying another word and he doesn’t say anything to you either the farther and farther you get from the man. you nearly trip over your feet trying to follow his long strides as he's huffing and practically dragging you along with him with a large hand around your wrist.

“satoru, please slow down. what’s wrong?” your words fall on deaf ears. he isn’t hearing anything but his own echoing thoughts and his unsteady, drumming, heartbeat until you’re in a quiet and secluded place on campus and he finally looks at you, so many emotions written on your face; confusion, fear, worry.

“what in the world has gotten into you?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

“you’re mine,” his profession is muffled and near inaudible under his steaming breaths, not a bit of his sanity returning with how it looks like he’s scared you, how he’s coming to realize he might have lost you long ago and didn’t know it. “what were you doing letting him hit on you like that?” he hardly knows what he’s saying, the words coming out without thinking.

“are you serious?” you ask, devastation laced in your tone. “he was just being nice and if he wasn’t.. it’s not like i was.. why.. why do you care?”

“you’re my wife!”

“when has that ever mattered? that's never stopped you from flirting with anyone before and i.. i’ve never said anything..” tears start to pool in your eyes and the last bit of the grip he’s had on this situation slips completely. please don’t cry.. i know i’ve fucked up but.. “even when it hurt i didn’t..”

“it’s not like i asked to marry you - but-”

before he can tell you, but that was back then because he hadn’t looked into another's way since these feelings started; before he can realize what he’s said and the way it would hurt you further, you interrupt, unable to hold back your tears.

“i didn’t ask for this either satoru,” your voice is broken and he knows every waver behind it and your tears are full of months worth of bottled up emotions from when you smiled despite his bullshit. “..but i'm trying.” in a matter of painfully slow seconds you're sobbing as you rip your wrist from his grasp and he feels his heart cracking, the cold nail of your withdrawal striking against the pumping muscle. “i.. just..” it's as though you want to say more and even if there wasn’t a lump in his throat making him utterly speechless, he wouldn’t have interrupted, he would have let you scream and yell and spew hurtful words. “i have to go..”

that nail digs deeper and he fights it, reaches for you and calls your name, feeling it stop when he’s met with the softness of your skin but the strongest strike, the blow that embeds it deep, was the way you cry out his name, begged him to let you go with crystalline tears flowing uncontrollably from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“satoru, let me go! please!”

you know you should be used to his hurtful words by now. they’ve been thrown at you for months, if he chose to speak to you at all. though you can admit that things have gotten better, if not a bit confusing. you would never deny your marriage was turning around, not when weeks ago you weren’t sure if you were going to survive not divorcing and avoid facing the consequences of that with both your families but now you felt yourself genuinely and completely falling for your husband.

yes he was so unbelievably handsome, charming to match, well, when he wanted to be. anyone could see that but the longer you were married to satoru the more you saw his heart, despite the fact he thought he was hiding it from you. he couldn’t hide the way he loved the fushiguro children and had since he started to look after them or the way he turned younger, more reckless around shoko, a reminder of more carefree years. in short and infrequent moments sometimes his heart was opened to you too and during those times, when you weren’t his enemy but rather a part of his family, made you wonder what it might be like had you had a normal marriage and married satoru for love or fell in love somewhere in the mess of how it started.

it was a ridiculous thought. you knew it would never be like that, you didn’t ask that of him and you didn’t entirely blame him for his behavior. he had chosen not to be nice but it was just like you to be patient, understanding and kind. by being the one he was forced to marry, you did understand why that dislike would be directed at you even though you know it didn’t make it fair, didn’t make it okay.

after all of that, months of feeling like a burden to the strongest sorcerer in the world, you didn’t expect to find yourself wanting, maybe even needing, your husband or that he might want you too. he had been around so much more recently, whether it had been him coming home in time to have dinner with you nearly every night or to be sleeping next to you or spending all night facetiming with you while he was on a trip until you fell asleep, like he had last night. but those feelings he had made bloom within you brought with them greater pain when hurtful reminders of the truth of your commitment came back to the surface.

‘i didn’t ask for this.’

how many times had you heard that by now? you had stopped keeping count, for your own sanity, but this time had by far been the worst. you fought so damn hard not to cry, to stay strong but still you burst into more tears than you wanted to shed in front of him.

maybe it was time to give up, consequences be damned.. how much more did you really have in you? how were you supposed to get through these mixed signals and still leave with your heart intact? and why did it break it further to see the pain written on his face when you ran from him?

you weren’t sure you could bear to be home, not when there were reminders of satoru everywhere, including your bedroom now as some of his nightstand items had made it to your room and had kept you company in his absence the past few days.. an absence that would apparently be longer even though you still missed him. he would show up there eventually anyways, was maybe there now but at this moment you didn’t have it in you to fight more, to be reminded of how little you meant to your husband when all this time you would have done anything to be sure he was happy too. when you found yourself holding him closer and closer to your heart.

you can admit that you didn’t handle your last interaction with your husband the best either though. asking why he cared when you knew the reason didn’t really matter. what reason had you had to hurt over the others he flirted with other than the fact he was your husband on paper? you had just never acted on the emotions swirling within you during those times aside from crying alone and by yourself but satoru was never really one to hold back. and the way it made you feel when he proclaimed you as his in such a way, when he held you so close to him, kissed you like he hadn’t before, like you really were his and he didn’t intend to let you go. it made you happy, confused and upset all at once.

was it all just for show? but then why comfort you after a nightmare or do any of the more thoughtful gestures he had shown recently? you had hardly seen his eyes ever that soft for you before, maybe in moments of pity then, but that wasn’t what this was and like the waters filled with the bluest stars and galaxies, you waded into their azure depths. found comfort in its warmth and the way he wrapped you in the protective blanket of his arms. you woke up with him still sleeping soundly, peacefully, while holding you and hadn’t had the bed to yourself since.

he seemed sweeter after that; hardly ever missing dinner, especially when he knew you’d be eating alone when the kids couldn’t join you. his texts throughout the day became more frequent, less transactional and though it still happened from time to time, his stinging words became less harsh. and when he called you last night, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, how you both lost track of the time until you woke up with your phone in your hand and a goodnight text sent after he had hung up. things almost felt normal, like maybe you really could be friends but there was no denying that your heart was feeling much more than that. still, you were cautious, kept your feelings closed off and hidden but you now realize somewhere along the way it wasn’t enough, not when it could let those painful reminders dig their way deep into your flesh in a way it hadn’t before.

satoru once told you, within the first few days of your marriage, that he had no intention of ever loving you and that you shouldn’t try loving him either. that love was a curse that wasn’t worth his trouble when it came to you.

perhaps you were finally understanding what he meant and were ready to give up, but after all this effort.. would it be easier for the both of you to not be tied together, burdened by your growing feelings when he would never feel the same? or would you become the curse of his life because you had done the one thing he had told you not to do, fall for him, and continued to try to make it work despite it?

instead of going home you let your aimless feet carry you, just as your mind carried away your many thoughts until your tears stopped, until your heart numbed and you were left feeling empty and tired. there were so many quiet whispers in the back of your mind, worries and reminders of your failing arrangement, so many questions without answers but you tried to shake them off, tried to quiet them so you could have a moment to just breathe. maybe then you could try to make sense of it all, though you weren’t sure you would ever understand all of the different emotions satoru was putting you through.

you aren’t really sure where you’ve ended up, somewhere on a cold bench as the afternoon turned to evening. you ignored the way your phone rang and the pings of the messages that came through. right now you didn’t have the energy or strength to do anything, are on the verge of giving up when your heart is screaming that you couldn’t possibly and all you can do is sit in your loneliness, back to more familiar times in your marriage, as you watch people pass you by.

in the end, when the evening sky began to cover the city in colder air and little light, you knew it was time to go home, to face this even if you weren’t ready to. maybe it would be easier if this was older times, when you knew you could walk through the front door with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks but it wouldn’t make satoru look your way. so you could hide away, pretend you weren’t breaking on the inside until you could face him with a smile again. but it couldn’t be like that anymore, not when the cause of your pain had also become your comfort, your most restful nights on hard days, the giggles you erupt in when he’s being silly and teasing, the person you wanted to hold you when dark fog surrounded you and threatened to swallow you whole.

you’re surprised to see the time on your phone, how late it actually is and just how many messages have come through. the latest one being from satoru; y/n please come home

it makes your heart feel like it’s beating again and you don’t know if it's good or bad, if you feel better or worse. all you knew is your chest aches and you do want to be home even if it scares you to not know what’s waiting for you; the satoru that seems to have grown soft for you, that couldn’t stand to see you cry, or the husband that said ‘i do’ not minutes before reminding you how much he detested your union.

your finger hovers over the call button, the small icon picture of him and megumi looking back at you but before you can call him back, not even sure if you were prepared to, a crowd of terrified screams pulls you from your phone and frantically you look around for its source, unsure if someone needed help or if you were in danger too.

before you can react after realizing which it was, that you were mostly certainly in danger and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it, your world begins to fade into black. the last thing you remember is hearing your husband's voice and a pitiful call of his name escaping your lips as your body falls to the ground, the scent of copper filling your senses before all consciousness is taken from you.

satoru stares at his phone with wide glowing eyes, tearing off his blind fold like it was possibly skewing his vision, messing with his other scenes despite that being impossible. for a moment he felt the first drops of relief seeing you finally return his call. you had ran from him so quickly and with it took his heart, left him standing there with a gapping, bleeding, hole in his chest that made it impossible to move. it’s been long agonizing hours since then, unable to reach you, not knowing what you were doing or where you were or if you were okay. he knew you weren’t and that it was all his fault.

finally, you were calling him but the first thing he heard was not the sweetness of your voice. instead his ears rang with the screams of others, the crumbling of concrete and a pleading call of his name from his wife that brought him past the point of manic in a matter of seconds.

he doesn’t dare hang up the phone but it’s not helping hearing noises of destruction that he can’t quite make out and the silence of your voice with each gut wrenching call of your name that’s begging you to say anything but continues to be met with silence.

the wildness in his eyes lingers but his attention is brought from his phone screen to the sniffles coming from the doorway to the living room where megumi and tsukimi stand with fear in their own eyes, tears streaming down her sullen face. had they ever seen gojo like this? tsukimi reaches for her brother's hands, to bring some comfort to them both even though she’s far worse off than megumi right now. or at least she’s the only one outwardly showing it. satoru can see the rise in megumis energy despite him wanting to remain strong for his sister.

she’s the first to speak too, reminding satoru that he wouldn’t be the only one suffering without you. “w-whats wrong? where- wheres y/n? is she going to be okay?” she doesn’t give him a moment to answer before she's crying out, “gojo!”

in a few long strides he’s standing in front of him, their seafoam and brown eyes staring back at him, his phone still connected on your call slipped into his pocket so his hands are free to pat both of their heads, ruffling their soft hair in tandem, keeping the last thin strand of his sanity from breaking until he could promise them none of them would ever be without you.

“don’t worry,” he says, that confident smile on his face. “i’ll bring her home safe. i’m the strongest after all.”

in a moment he’s teleported away, swearing to turn over all of japan in search of you. his presence was so overwhelming, the air nearly crackling with the electricity emanating from his barely contained furry. he’d let that barrier shatter soon, when it would be to his best advantage in bringing you home, until then the auxiliary managers helping him find your location through the never ending curse reports were under the pressure of the strongest sorcerer might.

the moment ijichi gave him the most likely places you could be, an eerie thankful smile came on gojos lips before he disappears, the light air finally returns the moment he was gone, before he can even mention there are already sorcerers on the scene. ijichi just hopes they’ve had the time to put the veil up before gojo goes all out without a second thought and that they’ve gotten you out of there. for everyone’s sake.

from the point in the sky where satoru hovers, just above the curtain trying to keep this shit show of a grade one contained, messy white locks blowing in the wind high above, it doesn’t take a moment for his six eyes to sense you. not when they had spent countless minutes taking in every bit of you when you thought he was looking at others..

he swears he’ll make it up to you. even if you could never love him back or forgive him, from this day on he wouldn’t hold back, he wouldn’t deny it. he loves you and the thought of losing you, in any way, without ever admitting it to you and asking for a chance to show you he meant it, is tearing him apart.

he’d get the chance to tell you, to shower you in his unbridled affection like you had always deserved, try to be the husband you could maybe love one day too. even if you couldn’t love him.. if he could make sure you kept smiling, that you could continue to be your amazing loving self, he would do anything.

the atmosphere back on solid ground is thick, the sky covered in a dark blanket that matches how dreariness seeps into every crack in the sidewalk, into the roots of the trees and across crumbles of buildings and cars that laid around. buried beneath it, alive but still somehow so lifeless, holding onto the phone still calling his, was you. blood dripping down your pretty face, debris and dust coating your skin, the disgusting curses attention on you as well.

satorus presence electrified the air enough so to make the grass stand up straight, his deep breaths huffing white clouds in the cold air, his blue orbs standing out like the eyes of an ethereal creature in the fog. a devil more so than an angel, one that would burn the world down to protect those he loves, even if he had failed at it before. the look of him would have stopped any sorcerer in its track, sent smaller curses scurrying away and it had kept this grade one from moving another inch, just like he intended

he was so gentle in the way he lifted off every piece of destruction that kept you pinned to the ground and pulled you into his arms with ease, infinity compassing you so nothing else could touch you except for him. nothing would ever hurt you again. it all happened so quickly to the world around him but in his eyes everything moved in slow motion. the way your eyes flutter open behind your lashes as he picks you up, unsure of what was going on around you, not fully conscious but enough so to whisper his name from chapped lips and hold onto him with the remaining strength that you had.

“‘toru..” a few tears roll down your cheeks, mixing with the blood still dripping from your hairline, draining the color from your face, making you so very weak.

“i’m here angel,” his voice sounds so unfamiliar to you both, shaking with pain and rage, relief and regret. “hold on a little longer for me, yeah?”

it takes everything in him to take his eyes off of you. you were now passed out in his arms and couldn’t say anything, couldn’t see the swirls of red and blue as they merged into deep purple and shook the earth beneath satorus feet. he only spares the curse a long enough glance to aime, holding you with one arm so tightly, feeling your shallow beating heart through his shirt soaking in your blood as he uses the other hand to use his jujutsu. the world around him is engulfed in purple, pulverizing the curse, shredding the trees, blowing out the windows of nearby buildings and burning the grass but the destruction he’s caused is the last of his concern.

all that’s left in the wake of his furry is your silhouettes in the smoke and aftershock, the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man shedding tears over his wife's limp body in his arms, kissing her cheeks as he pulls her so impossibly close before disappearing into thin air.

ieiri was the only person who could coax satoru to release you, sympathetic to the agony behind his eyes, not unfamiliar to it from when another left his life, but she was still seriously insistent that if he didn’t let you go, didn’t let her heal you, then he really might lose you. the fight to keep him out of the surgical room so he wasn’t suffocating her while she worked, so he didn’t have to see how truly worse off you might be with your lack of jujutsu to have helped you through this, was far more difficult, left satoru begging his friend to not let him leave your side but in the end he gave in and anxiously he waited outside the room.

he was still covered in dirt and blood. it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time it had ever been yours and he hoped it would be the only time, wished it had never happened at all. he blames himself and as he sat in silence, dying on the inside not knowing what was going on in the other room, he recalled his sacred oath to protect you till death due you part. it hadn’t meant anything to him when he said it and back then he never would have thought he’d be here, willing to give anything to get on his knees before you at that alter, bury his face into your middle while his hands hold you close and he swears to you that he will cherish you, protect you, love you, until death takes him from you.

with his head buried in his hands, head hanging low, tears pooling on the ground near his feet, he can’t help but think how right he was about love being a curse. nothing had brought him more pain and agony than love. there was nothing that had torn his heart apart like love had but for fucks sake he wasn’t ready to lose you too, to lose the most amazing parts of your love before he even got a true taste of it, before he could do you right by you and attempt to make up for his mistake.

long fingers grip onto strands of snowy hair and tug. he’s sure some would find it laughable to see the strongest in such a pitiful state, with no ability to fight back with annoying words and cocky smiles when the thought of being without you and your light made him think he’d never smile again. he didn’t want you to leave without knowing his love either, not when he had so much of it to give to you now that the cage he held it behind was shattered and forgotten.

his chest aches in a way it never has before. it made him sick to his stomach, angry enough to release all of his power at once, consequences be damned, it turned his tears from sorrowful to full of self pity to hysterics at what a world without you might be like. all because he broke his promise, because he had been a blind idiot and a stubborn fucking ass hole. would he never get the chance to show you with confidence how much you meant to him? he knows he didn’t deserve it but if.. no, when you make it out of this, he swears he’ll give you all of him. reject him, tell him you hate him, ask for a divorce and tear his heart out- none of it would stop him from trying to win your heart, from letting you go.

the more time that passes the more he feels like he’s losing it for the third time that day. he’s restless, sitting and bouncing his leg, getting up to walk just to pace the hallway endlessly until he ended up right back where he started and started the cycle all over again. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

shoko could yell at him all she wanted. he had to see you and know you were okay, to tell you he loves you and-

“gojo, take a breath okay?” ieriris voice breaks him from his thoughts, stops him from not even bothering to use the door and just teleport past the walls. “i told you i’d take care of her and i meant it.”

in a few steps he’s in front of her, leaning down to envelope her in a hug. he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath and let out the pent up air when she hugged him back. it wasn’t usual they shared moments like this but when it was.. it was when they were at their most vulnerable. even when they were younger, even when geto left them. his arms shook around her, silently begging for what he could not find the words to say.

“she’ll be fine,” her voice is soft, understanding to how he feels about you and thankful he’s done being a shithead about it. “she’s asleep for now but you can go in as long as you’ll let her rest.”

he didn’t wait a moment, didn’t even break their hug, before he teleported to your side and left shoko to smoke outside while she gave him some time alone with you. he was quiet and hesitant to touch you even though his fingers screamed to feel your skin, feel your pulse and prove to him without a doubt that you were okay. he saw it with his powerful eyes, your now clean skin, a few bandages here and there but your major injuries were healed. you looked so similar to how you did when sleeping at home and there was no doubting the truth in front of him but it wasn’t enough to ease the tightness of his chest.

let you rest. it was hard to do when he would have melted his body with your own given the chance but for now he’d have to settle for your smaller hand resting in his and the caress of his thumb against your soft skin swiping back and forth in comforting and gentle motions. you were warm, much warmer than the last time he held you and he swore he could cry at the feeling.

thank god for shoko and your resilience that filled him with such pride to call you his.

sitting on the chair next to your hospital bed, he lowers his head to rest against the hand he held, soft white hair tickling your skin as he kisses you knuckles and whispers an apology he would repeat to you in his words and actions for the rest of his life if he had to, until he could prove to you his utter devotion.

he isn’t sure how much time has passed and didn't notice that he had fallen asleep resting his head on you while waiting for you to wake up. his body ached, for more reasons than just the awkward sleeping position, he had gone through a whirlwind of emotions in one day and only next to you, knowing you would be okay, could he finally relax from it all but at the smallest twitch of your fingers he's alert, his head shooting up and he waits eagerly, moving from the chair to your bed, body hovering about yours, never letting go of your hand but instead pressing it against over his beating heart with gentleness, as you slowly wake up.

you blink slowly, your eyes in obvious protest and still heavy with exhaustion as you try to become more aware of your surroundings and what had happened with the aching of your head and a familiar scent in your nostrils.

“satoru?” you croak and in response he cradles your face in his hands, strokes your cheeks, kisses your lips soft and sweet and honest. your arms are weak and shaky but that doesn’t stop you from reaching for him and when you feel him shaking too, you ask, “are you okay?” oh that’s right.. you were fighting.. the remembrance was written on your face. “i'm.. i’m sorry i left so suddenly..”

leaning his forehead against your own, the laugh he lets out is full of relief and disbelief and is warm against your face. how could you possibly ask about his well being now or be the one apologizing? “my silly girl.” but it was the most wonderful thing to hear your voice and it takes all of his strength. he catches your wobbly smile and blushing cheeks before he collapses against you, enveloping you in his arms and letting his face rest in the crook of your neck, warm tears dropping along your collarbone.

his words, his confession, is all he can manage to say in his state and he whispers it against your skin, kissing you skin after each repeat of the words he would never hold back again. “i love you.”

bonus!

neither of you had expected to walk into the house and smell something delicious being made, ginger and onions and other delicious things that made your stomach growl with one whiff. you could hear the pair arguing and tsumiki pulling the big sister card before they become silent upon hearing your husband coo at you to be good and stay still followed by a defeated huff and a triumphant chuckle.

satoru had hardly let you go since leaving the hospital, even before that- from the moment you woke up he was touching some part of you, and insisted on carrying you up the steps even though you could walk just fine. at most you were tired and sore but not enough to render you unable to use your limbs.

in the end, it was impossible to say no to him. he wasn’t going to let you either so with burning cheeks you agreed to let your husband carry you bridal style into your home and held onto his strong shoulders as he so effortless carried you. he didn’t put you down once you were inside either, despite your protests, smirking at you when you wiggled in his arms but he only tightened his grip.

his overzealous affection and care didn’t stop there either and it only spurred him on when you became flustered because of it. oh loving you was going to be so very fun, he thought as you pouted when he wouldn’t let you feed yourself the meatballs megumi and tsumiki made together. you all ate on the couch, to be sure you were comfortable and resting like shoko had said you should, also because the table didn’t allow any of them to be close enough to you. tsumikis eyes welled up with tears when gojo told them what happened over dinner but when he patted her head with a wide smile and promised her nothing like this would ever happen again, looking at megumi and telling him he should look after both you and his sister too, you all smiled and laughed. he didn’t speak the words outloud but satoru swore he would remarry you right here and now when you returned your own promise to watch after them too, in your own loving way.

it was obvious that gojo was jealous of the kids hanging all over you, even megumi hardly left your side and was as doting as he was whenever his sister was ill. satoru couldn’t help but make you all of you blushy cheeked for different reasons when he pulls you into his lap and kisses your cheek before trying to whisk you away to your bedroom with a promise for naughty things that he didn’t intend to follow through with just yet, not until you told him you were ready and not until you were all healed up so he could love you properly.

the kids were too quick on their feet, laughing and arguing about who would sleep where while trying to push past the tall man even with his long and fast strides. he couldn’t keep them away no matter how hard he tried and admitted defeat when they jumped into bed after you.

main masterlist

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo #gojou x reader #jjk x reader

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turbulentscrawl · 1 year ago

Note

Since you asked for some angsty stuff...Hunters of your choice (can Fool's Gold and/or Ithaqua please be included if you have inspo for them🙏) accidentally fatally injuring their SOs during a match? Maybe they're sad/guilty and they expect their SOs to be fine after the match but then it turns out this death was permadeath/their SO is gone for good?

You…you wanna make those two guys MORE unstable? I like you ewe

Warnings: angst, very intense emotions, extreme violence, character death

Fool’s Gold

The relationship between Norton and Him was as odd as it was volatile, but they shared some deeper-than-understanding connection to one another. Which was why he’d been chosen to break the news to his alternate self, against all his protests. It wasn’t fair. Norton and Fool’s Gold were, at their cores, the same person with all the same desires. The same loves. Norton was hardly given a second to process your death himself and now he had to put himself in front of the broken mirror who’d done it.

‘Fool’s Gold’ stood in that crooked, stiff way of his while staring down Norton with a goading smile. It was just them in the garden—in the spot everyone knew the two of you would meet on full moons.

“Get lost,” Fool’s Gold croaks out. “You know this isn’t your place.”

“Yeah, well, it will have to be for right now,” Norton spits back, crossing his arms tight. It’s a poor comfort, a poor self-restraint. “I’ve got something to say to you.”

“Important enough to interrupt my date night,” He cackles. He rolls his neck, body rumbling and cracking as the coals of his torso shift. “Get on with it, then. Then get out of my wa—”

“They’re dead,” Norton says quickly. There’s no sense in delaying things. No amount of sugar coating will help calm the wrath Norton knows the amalgamation of all his worst parts is capable of conjuring. Fool’s Gold tilts his head a fraction. His grin wavers. “For good. We don’t know how or why. But that last match with you this week, when you…. You killed them for good.” Norton doesn’t try to hide the venom in his voice, but at least spares his counterpart a recounting of the gory details. Of how you suffered, burnt and broken.

“The fuck they are,” Fool’s Gold growls. “You think I’ve got rocks in my head, too? There’s no such thing as death here. Where are they? They’re mad about that hit, huh? I told them not to body block for that--”

“They’re dead!” Norton shouts. “You fucking killed them! They’re gone—for real, forever! The sooner you accept that, the sooner I can fuck off and go back to ignoring your worthless existence!”

Norton was suddenly dangling in the air by a crushing grip on his throat, having been drawn into Fool’s Gold’s rocky hand by the very polarity that had saved his life so many times before. But they shared that, too, and now he was stuck with that dead, enraged eye staring into his.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” Fool’s Gold roars, coughing and spitting all the way. Norton is wheezing too, both of them to quiver and suffocate with hurt carefully concealed under the blame and hatred for one another. “If anything…if anything, you’re hiding them. Think you’re so much better than me that you can steal the one good thing I got? I’ll crush you. I’ll CRUSH you. I’ll bring down that whole worthless fucking manor right to the ground and dig them out myself if I have to—WHERE ARE THEY!”

“It’s…your fault,” Norton chokes out with his last breaths, looking into his own murky eyes. “If you’d…n-never…existed—"

Fool’s Gold slams Norton’s body into the cobblestone like a ragdoll, rumbling the gardens and covering the grass with moonlit blood.

Ithaqua

He was not a man known for his patience—especially when it came to you. Ithaqua had been unbearable to all the other Hunters since your match with him, first enraged, then worried sick, it was completely pitiful. Somewhere between a kicked puppy and a snarling badger. Now, it was the survivor manor’s turn to be subjected to him.

Ithaqua paced in front of the Survivor manor, twitchy and impatient. Anyone who stepped foot outside was whipped into his clutches by a gust of wind and interrogated. He didn’t understand why they all had to make this so difficult. All he wanted was his lover. His other half. Why were these pitiful dolls denying him that?

“Bring them out here,” he’d growled at the squeaky little dancer. She got off the easiest, and that could have been the end of things, if she’d listened.

“Where are they?” he’d asked the psychologist, crushing her throat in a clawed hand while her pet beat at his stomach desperately. He’d let them go, too, because they reminded him of you and him in some pathetic way.

The third wasn’t so lucky. The batter had the nerve to claim you were dead. He was no fool, he knew that didn’t happen. He knew you were inside that stupid building, probably locked away by the rest of these survivor maggots out of some twisted sense of ‘protectiveness.’ Who did they think they were, to keep you two apart?

“You killed them,” the batter spat up at Ithaqua, who loomed over his crumpled body. “You beat them to death…like you’re doing to me now!” Ithaqua laughed maniacally. He’d hit you, sure, but only because you threw yourself in the way of the little blind girl. He’d told you before not to do that. That he didn’t want to hit you, that he couldn’t stop a swing in motion! But you did it anyway and took a detention-ed crack over the head. “They’re dead for good! They didn’t heal, they didn’t regenerate! We had to bury a corpse for the first time ever!!”

That gave Ithaqua some pause. Irrationally, impossibly…he didn’t hear lies in the bleeding man’s words. Something inside Ithaqua snapped with the realization, the thought that you might well and truly be gone. Without word or smile, he raised his axe and brought it down on this survivor’s head. He splattered open like a pinched grape.

It made no sense for true death to happen now of all times. To you of all people. If it were real, though, then there was a reason. Something was waiting beyond this cage. You were waiting, alone.

And Ithaqua would send everyone to meet you there, himself included.

Antonio

Antonio had brought flowers for you, but it was Alva and Michiko waiting for him at your tea party spot in the gardens. They were his friends, but their expressions did not bode well for this visit.

“What’s happened?” he asks, without preamble. “Have they refused to see me?” In your previous match, one in which he was the Hunter, he had killed you. Quite brutally, in fact, though everyone knew by now that whatever happened in matches was not by his choice. It was the reason he’d gathered a bouquet for your meeting today. He wanted to beg forgiveness.

“I’m afraid it’s something else, friend,” Alva says. “Would you sit with us?” he gestures to a seat at the garden table. It’s your chair, the one with a little bow tied to the armrest.

“If it’s all the same, I think I’d rather stand. But if this is not in regards to my love, what is it?” He couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach, despite the small reassurance that you weren’t ignoring him.

“I received some concerning news in my last match,” Michiko spoke. She finally met Antonio’s gaze, and he realized, finally, how exhausted she looked. Like she hadn’t slept in days. “It seems there’s been a change to the rules of the manor. Or perhaps…an exception.”

“Lady Michiko has been punished for nonparticipation,” Alva took over, having noticed Antonio’s focus. “She’s been plagued by night terrors for throwing her most recent match.”

“Why would you do such a thing? What change of rules could have compelled you to take such torture?” Antonio wonders aloud. He creeps closer to his friends, setting your flowers at your seat.

“The survivors were terrified they’d be dead for good if I killed them. They had…proof. I would not be the one to test the theory,” Michiko said. Antonio opened his mouth to question again, but Michiko’s stare cut him off. She gazed deep into his soul, or where it would be if he had one, and he understood. His throat suddenly felt as if there was a stone lodged in it. He fought against his stitched smile with all his might.

“They…?”

“They are gone, Antonio,” Alva said. “I am truly sorry.”

Antonio felt his thins legs quivering beneath him, and suddenly he was in your chair, having fallen into the seat Michiko slid underneath him. He touched the armrests, wishing your hands were there to hold instead. Alva placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a handkerchief with the other.

“You should get away from me,” Antonio told them. He felt his body slipping with his sanity. A dark hole was underfoot, opening to swallow his entire, grief-broken being. He didn’t think he could ever recover from this. His everything was gone, his life, his love, and now the light itself was being swallowed by a devil’s shadow. He knew Michiko was over his shoulder, ready with her knife.

“Let us worry about that, friend,” Alva said. “We’ll be here for you, one way or another.”

Maybe, Antonio thought, he’d get lucky in the coming struggle and be killed for good himself.

#idv x reader #identity v #fools gold x reader #antonio paganini x reader #ithaqua x reader #idv night watch #idv fool's gold #idv violinist #norton campbell x reader #if you squint

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fadingdaggerr · 6 months ago

Note

Hey, I have just read heaven’s gate ( Larissa weems x reader ) and absolutely loved it! Is there any chance for a part two? Thank you x

pearlescent (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader

summary: part two of heaven’s gate | 4.5k

includes: lesbians too in love for their own good, fluff

warnings: kissing/making out, sexual innuendo, afab reader (no breasts described for r), smut (fingering (L/r), oral (L), thigh riding (L)) can u tell i like eating pussy

note: first non-melissa post in over a year to bring me back from hiatus. thank u for ur patience. i feel like those wattpad writers that are like “just got out of a coma here’s a fic”

The smooth paving of the highway becomes bumpy and uneven as you pass the final gas station between here and your destination. Every pothole the car jumps over is like a shot of espresso through your aching joints. After the last stop, you promised yourself to drive straight through. Another stop would mean another chance to acknowledge the numbing of your ass after five hours in the car, and with one hour left, you’re not risking it. You really weren’t kidding when you said that teleportation would be much more useful.

Cell service is quickly obsolete as you continue through the woods, scanning the road for any squirrels that may decide that today was the day. Drumming against the steering wheel, you let your mind wander. Maybe coming without telling her is a bad idea, but it also has the potential not to be. She had begged you to drive to her just two days after she left, and you would have, if only your client hadn’t walked in the door. Dueling busy schedules made two months pass like molasses, longing to drop everything and hitchhike if you had to. Would the lack of alerting her put her off? Gods, you hope not.

A sudden shift of turbulent driving to a slight jostle of cobblestone removes you from the swirling doubt in your mind, peeking towards the sign you’re approaching. Green and rusting, white lettering reads: Welcome to Jericho! The Salem of Vermont. You find yourself glad someone took the time to graffiti over the last bit.

Ignoring the anxiety climbing your spine, you keep going, and going, and going, and going, until you finally break through the treeline. Out of nowhere sits the cutest town you think you’ve ever seen, with little brick shops with murals and a gazebo with the remains of New Year’s decor still hanging on. It makes sense why people would want to come here, why she would choose to stay.

In an attempt to not draw more attention than an outsider already gets, let alone an outcast one, you don’t linger on viewing the quaint town of Jericho. There’s better views awaiting you later, at the very castle-like building you can see on the high hill. Looming in a shadow, one that doesn’t extend over the rest of the town, sits Nevermore in all its glory. The corners of your lips turn up into a small smile, the view is nostalgic, bringing back the memories of your time at Byron’s.

The memory brings a reminder to the forefront of your mind, and with cell service restored, now is the best time. Carefully, and without taking your eyes off the road, you navigate to your favorite contacts.

“Hello, my angel!”

You chuckle, “it’s just me.”

“Fuck, nevermind then,” Parker grumbles, “so you’re not there yet?”

“I’m pulling up in a second, just wanted to let you know now before I can’t.”

A characteristic cackle comes from the other end, “gonna jump her bones immediately, I see, I see. Can’t say I blame you, she makes me question things about myself.”

“This is exactly why I called you before getting here,” you chuckle, pulling through the front gates, “but I gotta go now.”

“Yes, yes, go get slutted out, harlot. Just please call me sometime, so I can talk with the love of our lives,” Parker begs.

“I’m telling Max you said that,” you deadpan, hanging up just as you hear a rushed wait!

—☽—

For a town so small minded, from what you’ve been told, you’re more than surprised to find that you are able to walk into Nevermore unnoticed. Some students stand around, talking amongst themselves, but none seem to pay you any mind, likely thinking you’re just another teacher. Using the anonymity to your advantage, you slow your pace, listening in carefully. A gorgon walks by you, the only student at this time that seems to be carrying any school supplies.

You mentally scold yourself for stereotyping her studious behavior before you focus in on her mind. Your consciousness runs through hers, searching through test anxieties and hockey tryout concerns, until you find what you need. The literature wing, I could’ve guessed that. Coming back into your own mind, you’re already speeding up the stairs before your pupils return to their normal size.

Passing another student two stories up, you pray the siren knows which office you need, yet they don’t. Neither do the werewolves or the seer. Do you guys even go to classes? You’re about to give up on the full surprise, headache seeping in from all the mindreading of anxious teenagers. Just before you exit the hallway entirely, you actually look up from your feet, and you mentally smack yourself upside the head for not just reading the plaques on the doors.

With a renewed pep in your step, you keep just shy of running as you read every door. Finally, you reach a door that has a newer plaque compared to neighboring ones, serif font unscathed by age. Professor L. Weems, Department of Literature. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sight of her name. Noticing the door being cracked open, you push it open slightly more, hoping your search ends here.

Hunched over an antique desk, red-framed glasses perched on her nose with a pen spinning between her fingers, she doesn’t seem to notice the attention on her. It’s hard to pry yourself away from watching her, when holding her is seemingly moments away. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you knock on the doorway with shaking knuckles.

A huff passes scarlet lips as Larissa peers up, a brief, disinterested gaze passing over her features. The pen in her hand stills, falling to the desk with a small clatter. Blue eyes widen as she stares unwaveringly at you. Fidgeting under her gaze, you smile nervously, “was- uh- was looking for professor Weems? Know her, by any chance?”

In no less than a blink, Larissa is rounding her desk at top speeds, crashing into your body as her arms wrap around your neck. Nearly falling into the hall, you just barely keep the two of you up, leaning into her to walk her backwards. One hand grips her waist as the other blindly reaches for the door to shut it, quickly coming back to bury into her hair. Your face tucks into her neck, brushing your nose against her skin, breathing her in.

“You’re here,” Larissa says quietly, disbelieving.

“I’m here,” you mumble against her warm skin, “couldn’t wait any longer.”

A sigh of relief passes plush lips, “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Surprise, it’s a noun,” you joke, pressing a soft kiss to the expanse of her neck, relishing in the way she shudders at the contact. There’s no reply except for her arms tightening around you, wordlessly telling you that this surprise is one she likes.

Pulling back from you suddenly, Larissa just stares at you, blue eyes taking in every feature, lingering on your lips before flicking back to your eyes. Your hand moves from her waist to cup her cheek, stroking soft skin that you’d been longing to touch. She takes the invitation, leaning forward to press delicate lips against your own, slow and savoring. Your tongue traces her lips, tasting earl grey and lipstick as she lets you in. No struggle or search for dominance, simply a familiar dance you’d both dearly missed. The hand in her hair stays in place, keeping her close as the other traces her cheekbone and jaw, memorizing the feeling of her skin. Every piece of you missed her, and all of those pieces felt healed the moment her lips touched yours.

Pulling away slowly, both of you keep your eyes closed, simply existing in this moment. It takes a while for either of you to move away, but you feel giddy seeing Larissa’s pink cheeks and smudged lipstick. Your thumb drifts to her lips, wiping away the mess you’ve made, ignoring that you are likely equally covered. Soft lips press into the pad of your thumb, gentle and sweet.

“I cannot believe you’re here,” she whispers into the small space between you, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you,” you reply at the same volume.

It takes two hours for the halls of Nevermore to empty, students retreating to their rooms or to the quad, finally allowing a chance for the two of you to leave Larissa’s office. Silence seems to come over the school, however frightening it may be when dealing with teenagers, though neither of you mind as you simply exist in the spacious office. After weeks of phone calls that lasted most of the night, quiet amazingly comes easy.

Only a soft hum from the blonde breaks the silence, twisting her wrist to check her watch. Turning towards you slightly, she keeps a soft volume as she speaks, “how would you like a tour?”

“That sounds perfect, I only got to see the foyer and this hall,” you answer, nudging into her shoulder softly. “Was on a mission, I didn’t really get a chance to explore.”

“Sorry about that, but we’re not supposed to have visitors here,” she explains, “the campus has essentially been on lockdown since the nineties.”

You chuckle, reaching a hand out to draw her in. Her fingers slide across your palm before gripping, letting you tug her closer, “in that case, security might be too lax. I got in no problem.”

“You what?” Larissa stiffens, looking at you bewildered.

“I drove right through the gate, walked right in, no one even noticed me,” you chuckle, “just walked on up.”

Her lips purse as she tries to hide the laugh building in her chest, leaning in more, “you read a child’s mind to find me, didn’t you?”

It’s impossible to hide the wry grin on your face, “potentially.”

“Potentially,” she mimics, amused.

—☽—

Nevermore has officially put Byron’s Home to shame.

Every hallway is covered in paintings, Latin engravings littering every shelf, moon phases in different corners. It makes you wish you never set foot in that brick schoolhouse all those years ago. The conservatory alone almost made you weep; crawling vines and shining moonflowers, the feasting venus flytraps, and, your favorite, bleeding hearts. Larissa stands back and watches as your fingers ghost over petals, pressing lightly against the flytraps full belly, all with a deep fascination behind your eyes.

“I can’t believe you have this,” your voice echoes quietly in the room, “it- it’s incredible.”

Her silence throws you, immediately turning. The lost look in her eyes makes you falter, and where your typical instinct is to read, you instead step closer.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching to run your fingers over her knuckles that stay clutching her shirt.

There have been many times where Larissa wished for different abilities, or no abilities at all. Right now, however, she wished for nothing more than your ability. She wished she could reach into your mind and see how you saw the world, how you see the flowers, how you see her. Seeing you now, how you watch her with more reverence than you grant what, in her mind, is a greater beauty, she knows she has a window into the limitless path your consciousness takes.

“Nothing at all. I just have one more place in mind,” she answers, hand lifting to stroke your cheek, lingering against your oddly cool skin. You nod wordlessly, letting your fingers intertwine with hers.

Hand held in Larissa’s, you let her lead you through the halls. She pauses to peak around every corner, terrified the two of you would be caught. Leading forward, more like tugging, she brings you towards a spiraling staircase. Letting her go first, she enters into a massive room, cool but comfortable, dark enough to rely on distanced golden lamps.

Floor to ceiling bookshelves line everywall, the familiar Latin etched into stone and wood alike. Ancient Greek, Cyrillic, and Tamil, first and second editions of texts you thought you’d only ever see inaccurate translations of. Sections of different outcast abilities, poetry from around the world, fables of the inception of different classes. Most have an unfortunate layer of dust over them, long ignored in interest of the clearly loved young adult section.

“You’re really trying to make me jealous,” you say breathily, “this place is incredible.”

“These are my favorite sections,” Larissa admits shyly, “I spend hours of my day here and never see another soul. It’s peaceful.”

“All by your lonesome?” There’s a slight mockery in your tone, “not alone now, are you though?”

Red lips curve into a smile as you step closer to her, fingers grazing up her side, slipping around her back to tug her closer. Hands rise to cup your face, eyes hooded as she takes you in. Pupils blown and lip between your teeth, she doesn’t want to deny herself the view nor the pleasure. Leaning into your space, her nose brushes yours, lips just barely ghosting.

You know she’s teasing, even with closed eyes, you can sense her smile. Tilting, you capture her lips, sighing at the contact. The moment your tongue brushes her bottom lip, a switch in Larissa flips, pushing you back into the shelving behind you. Sliding from your face, her hands grip your waist, clutching with an unnecessary urgency. Meeting her pace, your fingers weave into her updo, pulling hairs loose as you try to keep her closer than she physically can manage.

The muffled boom of a door on the other side of the shelf forces you to jump apart, wide eyes looking at each other like deer in headlights. Cheeks puff as you try not to laugh, Larissa immediately pulls you out of the library, forcing you into a jog as you run towards a different end of the building.

—☽—

Carefully, she guides you upstairs, praying that no other teachers or students are around to see her sneaking someone in. Both of you struggle to keep your giggling in, the juvenile nature of it all making you fluttery.

Coming up to a white door, you see another plaque reading Dormitory Parent. Unlocking the door with a strong wiggle, Larissa motions for you to walk in first, quickly shutting the door behind her and latching it. Leaning against it, she lets out a sigh.

Larissa doesn’t get a chance to move closer before your lips press against hers once more. This time, neither of you waste a second, no longer nerved up by the chance of someone walking in again. Timid brushing of lips is forgone as her tongue bullies its way into your mouth, stroking yours with a gentle dominance that has your knees weak.

Wanting hands grip at her waist as she pushes her backwards, leading you further into her quarters until you’re backed into a wall. Lips move from yours and trail down your chin to your neck, teeth passing over your pulse. A groan leaves your lips, hands scrambling to pull Larissa back to your lips, missing them greatly in the seconds they’ve been apart from yours. Feeling her smile against you makes your heart clench, needing more, anything she’s willing to give.

Pulling back from her lips only enough to speak, you ask, “bedroom?”

There’s no reply, only you being tugged from the wall and walked backwards further into the room. You’re so lost in her, her lips, her hands, her tongue, everything. The feeling of dropping onto the mattress is what brings you back in, eyes cracking open to see a lightly panting Larissa above you, lips parted and kiss-swollen. Lapis eyes flick over your face, expression similar to the one she wore when she first saw you, right on the cusp of relief and disbelief. She’s not unlike a goddess viewing her devotee.

Taking her moment of distraction as a tool for your benefit, you flip the two of you, happily taking in the new view of her beneath you. Hair of white gold splaying over the pillows, eyes wide, skin flushed, and entirely beautiful, Larissa Weems is a gift for your eyes only. The hand on her hip slides up, pushing the fabric of her dress with them as they climb. It’s a silent question, or more of a silent begging, hands impatient to feel her.

Larissa’s head rises off the pillow, lips pushing into yours, her hands going to yours to push them even higher, dress inching up more and more. As she wishes, you lift her dress, hands finding solace on plush thighs, laying your body between her legs. The familiarity of it makes you moan into her mouth, pure want running through your veins.

Hands close in on the lace covering her, lips moving to her neck for a chance to breathe, “can I take this off?”

“Yes,” she answers in a whiny tone, lifting herself off the mattress slightly.

You carefully, thought quickly, lower the zipper. Larissa strips the dress off her torso, letting your wanting hands take care of the rest. The world stops for a moment as you look down at her, skin luminescent against dark sheets, constellations of freckles dotted across her chest.

The blush crawling up her neck brings you back in, and you haphazardly shrug off your jacket and tear off your own shirt. Leaning back down, you forgo her lips to kiss down her neck, reveling in her skin beneath yours. Larissa moans softly as her hands wander down your back, around your torso, tugging at your belt, and you're quick to head her command. Greedy hands pull you back down on the bed, gripping at warm skin as your lips take purchase on her neck again.

Laying her back, you continue your path down, fingers taking her bra straps down with you. Eyes peek up to hers, silently asking permission. Larissa arches into you in response, and your lips wrap around a rosey nipple. Nails dig into your back as she moans beneath you, hips bucking against your. Satisfying her desire, you place a thigh between her legs as you continue to lavish her chest with affection.

An already soaked white thong becomes absolutely ruined as Larissa grinds steadily against your thigh, moaning huskily into open air. Continuing down, your thigh moves away as you near her heat. Fingers curling around the band of her panties, you pause, “may I?”

“Please, darling,” Larissa replies breathily, mouth hanging open as you toss the fabric across the room.

Mouthing at her thighs, you suck harder as you get closer, red marks painted across a white canvas. Reaching her slick pussy, your mouth nearly waters at the sight, descending on her immediately. Her hips rock just as quickly, trying to ride your face as your tongue swipes through her folds. Savory wetness covers your chin, nose just barely rubbing against her clit.

Tilting up, you allow your lips to wrap around her button, sucking gently. The gasps Larissa emits above you only egg you on further, hand moving from her thigh to her entrance. Your middle finger slowly pushes into her, pumping carefully before adding your index. Her walls grip your fingers snugly, trying to keep you there. Her hips never still, and you force them down with your free hand as you focus your attention on her.

Alternating between sucking and licking her clit, combined with your fingers increasing pace inside her, has Larissa’s voice growing horse, moans turning to pitchy whines. Long legs wrap around your body, holding you snugly against.

Heavy whimpers fall from her lips. “Please,” she begs, “more, baby, please.”

Denying her when she’s asking so nicely, so prettily? You could never. Your ring finger lines with the others, pressing into her quickly. The stretch makes Larissa cry out above you, heels digging deeper into your back as your tongue swirled around her sex. It takes little time for her breathing to grow hoarse, mouth hanging open as her eyes squeeze shut.

Her breath hitches and hips still, essence coating your fingers as you watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, eyes finally reopening. Slowing your fingers, you retract from her, but in no way are you done just yet. Letting go of her clit with a small pop, you drag your tongue down to languidly traverse her folds, taking in her full taste.

Probing inside her, you relish in the breathy whine that comes from her throat. Pulling back, you flatten your tongue, swiping across her cunt. Trailing up, passing her navel, the dip in her ribs, you take a quick pass over her nipple, swirling softly. Grabby hands pull at you, tugging you back to her lips. Moaning at her own taste, Larissa’s body arches into you, heat brushing over your thigh once again.

Hand trailing up from her thigh, you pull back from her lips, offering your fingers in place of your tongue. Fading red lips wrap around your digits, her own tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. You can feel your eyes glazing over as you watch her greedily taste herself, gently and unknowingly grinding on your thigh.

Letting go, Larissa takes your stupor to flip you over. Staring down with cool blue eyes with a mysterious fire. Wandering lower and lower, they trace over your own underwear, slick from pleasing her. The whimper you let out only eggs her on, rubbing you over the fabric.

“Riss…” you manage out, already breathless from her touch, “baby…”

A low hum leaves her throat, hand sliding under to make contact with you. Long fingers slide through wetness as lips attach themselves to your neck. Two fingers slide into you, slowly, her thumb makes tight, firm circles over your clit, making you keen into her. The pressure building in your core, that had been steadily growing since the library, feels so overwhelming with her all over you now.

Feeling you trying to ride her slow hand, she speeds up, taking over for you as your moans quickly become airy. Under her lips, she feels your heart beating wildly. For her. All for her.

Her scent, her taste, her hands, her tongue, all of her was all over you. Her teeth scrape against your skin as her fingers curl, making you groan. The hand not in her hair splays across her back, desperate to keep her close. Feeling the want dripping from you, her fingers speed up, almost bullying gummy walls that cling to her.

Tugging her by her hair, you bring her to your lips. Open mouth and messy, you’re barely kissing, just moaning into her mouth as she presses harder to your button, bucking into her hand. You can’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed about how quickly she got you here, how quickly you’ve become putty beneath her.

Deciding she needs to taste her hard work sooner rather than later, her fingers just barely spread inside you, stretching you. The motion makes you erupt in a silent scream, clinging more to her as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to snap.

“C’mon darling,” she husks against your throat, “give it to me. I know you want to.”

Her words are your undoing, the sheer need in her voice and the feeling of her inside you was enough to snap the band. The whines from you turn into breathy pants, hands on Larissa still holding her close as her fingers slow. As she tries to remove them, you close your legs around her wrist, locking her in place. Her lips drag up your neck, capturing your own, sighing into your mouth as your fingers scratch gently at her scalp.

Lazy kisses last until the post-orgasm warmth leaves your body, shivering slightly at the cool air that you can finally feel tickling your skin. Legs unclamp her hand, allowing her to draw back. You nearly cum on the spot watching her suck your release off, moaning softly against her own fingers.

“Keep doing that and you’re not leaving this bed for a week,” you mumble beneath her.

She chuckles, rolling off to lay on the bed beside you, “I can’t say I’d be opposed.”

Just facing her, watching her chest rise and fall, rosy cheeks slowly returning to their normal color, you’re in awe. Freshly fucked and still perfect, Larissa Weems is a miracle. Laying on your side, you trace your fingers up and down her side, following the path of silver stretch marks and faint freckles. You push yourself forward, pressing yourself into her warm body, adoring how her arms immediately wrap around you.

“I missed you,” she whispers, as if she’s not sure you’d share her sentiment.

You press a kiss to her collarbone, “I missed you more.”

There’s a few minutes of silence before you feel Larissa chuckle beneath you. You hum in question. She squeezes you briefly, “would you like dinner?”

Another pause. You both giggle as you try to walk out of the room with a small waver in your steps.

—☽—

When your eyes open, you think it’s the sun cracking through the curtain that pulls you from the depths of slumber. A piercing ring breaks through the tiredness, bringing your attention to your phone. Your groan is met in tandem by Larissa’s, who shoves her head into her pillow further, arm tightening around your waist. Stretching in her grasp, you mentally prepare for what you know is coming. The little shit has a radar.

“No,” you say the moment you bring the phone to your ear.

“Oh sweet angel, I miss how nice you are,” Parker sing-songs, “did I wake you from your slutty slumber?”

“Yes, both of us. Dick,” you grumble, “you have zero consideration.”

“Give my real friend the phone, I’m done with you,” he says, though you know he’ll never leave you alone. Even when you eventually die.

“Baby, it’s for you,” you say as you pull the phone away from your ear. Larissa peeks one eye at you, clearly irritated. Parker, you mouth. You wish it wasn’t so endearing how quickly she perked up. Sitting up, she nods, motioning for you to put her on speaker.

“Hello, Parker,” she utters through a yawn.

“My love! How are you? Achy? Tired? In need of a better lover?”

“I’m great,” Larissa chuckles, “and yes, yes, and no, most definitely not.” Her eyes stay on you as she answers, peeking down at your lovingly annoyed expression.

The rest of the call is simply Parker talking at Larissa, rather than to her, while you shake your head at his antics. Curling back into her side, you let them talk as you watch her face. She seems at ease, a stark contrast from the stressed Larissa you’d seen when you first looked in her office. She’s less imposing, loose hair and smudged makeup, a smile playing on her lips as she listens to Parker’s plans for a surprise two month anniversary gift for Max.

In the walls of her bedroom. In bed with you. Breathing the same air. Perfection lies beside you.

note: if i could rewrite the entirety of part one i would. but i guess that shows growth in writing or whatever

feedback appreciated as always

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

Text

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x reader part 5/6

Summary: This summer was supposed to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

Master list

cw: angst, dirty smut and more angst. 3.9k words

You’ve been grappling with yourself for days. The emotional turmoil is akin to a never-ending struggle. You are torn between two opposing forces—one driven by love, passion and desire to be with Eddie while the other grounded in reality. You know that leaving this idyllic bubble of happiness will mean facing the challenges and complexities of real life, which is causing you mental and emotional anguish.

You do, in fact, love Eddie. You have ever since you laid eyes on him. Even back then, pure infatuation turned into lust, which in turn made you fall in love with him all the same. This makes this decision that much more difficult to swallow. Your pride and reputation meant everything to you, but how could your two worlds coexist?

You played along, pretending to ignore your worries when you were around Eddie. You wanted to take advantage of all the time you had left before summer ended. Only a few more weeks, time was running out, yet it stood still when you were with Eddie. Eddie made you feel safe and wanted. Eddie makes you feel alive and free. You always felt a sense of calm whenever you were with Eddie. There was something about him that made you feel like you could be your true self around him without any fear of judgment. You never had to put on a façade or pretend to be someone you're not.

Eddie was your well-needed reminder that you don't have to be perfect to be loved and accepted. He appreciated you for who you were, flaws and all. Being with him was a source of comfort and reassurance you could always count on.

No matter how much you try to push it away, that little warning bell in your mind keeps ringing. It reminds you of all the things that could go wrong. It's like a constant companion that never leaves your side, always lurking in the back of your mind.

The fear of the unknown was overwhelming and paralyzing at times, especially at night when you were alone with your thoughts, making you feel helpless and trapped.

With Eddie, you felt like you could let your guard down and be yourself. Eddie was also judged and tried; he was nothing of the man everyone blamed him for being, but you were only you; you couldn’t make the town see him for who he truly was. Or maybe you could? But the burden would be too much, ruining the status you’ve built up your whole life. Was it worth the risk? You know Eddie would risk it all for you, but deep down, you wouldn’t be able to do it for him…

—

Today, you were on Field duty with Robin, Ashton and Eddie. Not much had happened besides the four of you supervising the soccer game between your groups. So when you and Eddie asked them to cover for you for about twenty minutes, they reluctantly agreed.

You and Eddie snuck off to the barn because you were running out of places to have sex. The cabin was mysteriously boarded up the last time you tried sneaking off, so you needed to get creative.

“You’re always so horny” You giggle as he grabs your ass.

“It’s not that I’m horny…you’re just that sexy, I can’t help myself.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” You giggle.

Eddie presses you up against the raw wooded planks of the barn wall. It was stuffy and hot in there, but you only cared about Eddie. Eddie made you feel alive, wanted, and protected. You wanted him to feel the same. All thoughts are thrown out the window. You don’t worry about getting caught; you don’t worry about life after camp; your entire being is absorbed by thoughts of Eddie.

“I want you in my mouth.” You moan as Eddie kisses you deeply. You’ve made it to the barn and pulled him into a dark corner.

“You wanna get on your knees for me, Princess?”

“Mmmmmmm,” you drop down, quickly taking off the tiny green gym shorts of the camp uniform.

You could smell Eddie when you pulled down his shorts; the pheromones made your head spin. Sure, it was hot and sticky, but you needed Eddie's sweaty balls in your face. The stench of the barn didn’t even phase you as your mouth watered for him.

“Sucha’ good girl, f’me,” He praised as you took his hard cock in your mouth. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the deep pink head before taking more of him in your mouth.

You pine for his affection, his touch, but mostly his words.

You and Eddie discovered you were both pretty nasty when it came to fucking one another. Eddie loved that you could keep up with him and his dirty fantasies.

“You always wanna be a good girl for me, don’t ya, princess.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You say before going back onto his throbbing cock.

Eddie’s head falls back as your lips latch back onto his leaking cock.

“Fuck that’s good” Eddie slowly thrusts his hips into your mouth so his cock hits the back of your throat. “You’re perfect, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name makes you pine even more; the butterflies it gives you only makes you want to be all that much better for him, to him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” You hum, pulling away to work his cock with your hand.

Eddie can’t hold off any longer. You didn’t have much time, and someone might walk in any second.

Without warning, Eddie quickly stands you up and walks you over to the back wall. You let out a small whimper because you aren’t done yet.

“You were being such a good girl, don’t make me punish you.” He growls low in your ear. “You want your little cunt fucked, or not? Want daddy to make you feel good?”

You nod your head silently.

“I know, baby girl, you just need your little pussy to be played with, huh. Is that it?” He caressed your cheek before manhandling you onto the hay bail in the corner of the barn.

You squeak when Eddie flips you and covers your mouth with his large hand to keep you quiet.

“Shhh, we can’t have anyone walking in now, can we?:

You silently shake your head no, and Eddie's hand falls from your mouth to grip the fat of your ass.

“I want to do bad things to you,” He growls.

“So do them” You push your ass into him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” He tugs on your cotton shorts.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?”

“Better for you, no?” You smirk.

A low curse leaves Eddie's throat before his hands dip lower.

“You always get this wet from sucking my cock?”Eddie glides his hands along your wet folds. “Yes, Daddy,” you gasp as his fingers make contact.

A loud screech is heard in the distance, probably a camper playing tag, but you and Eddie freeze. You both are brought back to reality; you don’t have any more time to waste.

“I want your cock inside me, please” You reach as you look back over your shoulder to kiss him.

“We might get caught.”

“Good, then everyone will know I’m yours,” you smirk.

“You freaky little minx” Eddie slides his cock between your soaked folds before slowly pushing his way inside. Inch by inch, he stretches you out.

Even though you’ve been fucking like rabbits, your body still needs time to adjust to its size.

“You okay, baby?”

You bite back hiss; it burns so good.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.

“Don’t think we have a minute, Princess.”

“What? You going to blow your load already” You giggle, only making your already tight puss get tighter around eddies cock.

“No, we are running out of time; Birdie and Rooster will kill us if we don’t hurry.”

“Fine, then fuck me like you mean it.”

The brush of Eddie’s thick cock on your inner walls was something you would never get used to. He would make you forget about everything and everyone that wasn’t solely him. Not your life outside the camp, not the pressures you felt of being perfect, not the way you are made out to be the Princess of Hawkins and certainly not the weight you felt in your chest when you think of life with Eddie after summer is over.

All those hours you spent dreaming about being with Eddie, you never thought it would come to fruition, so you never thought about the consequences if it did happen. Now that you’ve claimed you both have claimed each other as their own, you’re struggling with what to do once you return to the real world.

Would your parents accept him? No. You knew for a fact that they worked hard to get you where you are today, and they would never understand how loving Eddie makes any sense.

But none of that mattered right now; none of that even crossed your mind because Eddie had a way of making you feel like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria.

“You still with me, Princess?”

“Mmmhhmm,” you bite down to keep from moaning.

“You know I love those sounds you make, baby, but we gotta stay quiet.

“I’m so close, baby, please.”

Eddie came to know your body almost as well as you did. He knew you needed extra attention to help you get over the edge, so he reached down to work your clit with his rough, calloused fingertips.

“Shit, baby, you’re so close. I can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing my cock so good.”

“Please,” You beg as you grab Eddie’s wrist to brace yourself for your orgasm.

“Come for Daddy.” His breath brushes past your ear, and you melt under his grasp. Your body quivers as your pussy clenches, and your brain spits out endorphins through your body.

Eddie’s not far behind; the grip in which you clamped down on him was so delicious he couldn’t help it. Without thinking, he came inside of you, making sure all of it was pushed up far inside.

“Did you just?” You ask breathlessly.

“Fucking take it” He thrust every last bit of his seed into your pussy.

“Eddie,” You whined.

“What baby girl?”

“I—I’m going to be all messy; I don’t even have panties…” you can already feel it dripping out of you.

“Good. I want you to be thinking about me for the rest of the day.”

You want to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. You would have to walk around with a puddle at the bottom of your shorts…

“There you guys are!” It’s been like thirty minutes, so let's go!” Robin scolded, and you hiked up your shorts around your ankles.

You hear a “gross” as she walks away, and you and Eddie can't help but laugh.

“I’m so done covering for you guys; this is getting way out of hand.” Robin said as Eddie rejoined his campers and Ashton by the creek.

“Birdie, I’m sorry, we got carried away.”

“You always get carried away.” She rolls her eyes.

She was right. Your relationship with Eddie was distracting you from your responsibilities.

“I’m sorry, I promise. We won’t sneak off again. I owe you so many times. Whatever you need, I got it.”

Her facial expressions soften. “Fine. Only if you really do promise me?”

“Cross my heart.”

“What about lover boy?”

“I also promise he won’t do anything to misbehave.” You smirk “during camp hours.”

“You think we have time to stop by the cabin quickly before dinner?” You mumble.

“Yeah why?” She glanced at her watch

“Uh… I need to change my shorts.

“Ugh gross, ”

—

As the weeks passed, your and Eddie’s relationship became more serious. He would like to take you on dates after hours. Even if nothing was around, he thought of ways to get creative. Much of it involved stealing from the kitchen and borrowing the projector from the supply cabinet for movie nights, but none of that mattered to you. What mattered was that he put in an effort you could only dream about.

Last night, you snuck off to his van. There was a mattress, blankets, and some pillows. Eddie insisted you sleep together all night and set an extra early alarm so no one would notice you’re not in the cabin.

It was risky, but you caved. How could you say no when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear while also telling you what exactly he would do to you in the privacy of his van? Eddie had a way of getting you to do anything, not that you minded. The last thing you wanted was to get into trouble, but you wanted to sleep next to him. To feel his body next to yours, to hold you.

As you awaken from a deep slumber, you feel surprisingly well-rested. You slowly open your eyes and squint as the sun's bright light peeks through the van's windows, illuminating the small space. You realize that you're tangled in the sheets with Eddie, and a wave of happiness washes over you. As you take in the sight of him sound asleep beside you, you can't help but smile.

However, your joy is quickly interrupted by the nagging thought of the alarm that was supposed to go off. You push it to the back of your mind and take a moment to appreciate this peaceful, intimate moment with Eddie. You know that time is running out, and you must make the most of the time you have left together before it inevitably comes to an end.

You've realized that this time together is incredibly precious and fleeting. The pressures of reality are beginning to weigh heavily on you, and you understand that things won't always be this easy once you return home. With only two weeks of summer left, it's important to treasure every moment together.

You hear your name being yelled out in the distance, and you panic. snap up quickly, reaching for Eddie's writs to see it is already 9:45 am. You’re supposed to be on the clock.

“Get up, oh my god.” You find your shirt and pants while Eddie stirs.

“Baby, get up! We are late!” You shake him some more, and Eddie snaps awake.

“What?? what?!”

"It’s almost ten we slept in!” You yell, throwing his shirt at him.

“Bambi?!” You hear your name yelled along with Eddies.

“Fuck” you’re freaking out as you scrambled out of the van, Eddie following close behind you.

When you stepped out, Billy was there.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He smirks.

“Billy, please, don’t say anything.” You beg.

You knew Billy had not gotten over things. He would still comment when Eddie wasn’t around; he tried more than once to get you to come with him instead of Eddie.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s already camp hours; everyone has been looking for the two of you, and it seems you’ve been fornicating on Camp Murdock’s dime.”

“Billy.” You warn.

“What’s happening?” Eddie joins you once he is fully dressed.

“You tell me? You and you’re little whore here—“

Billy didn’t get to finish before Eddie charged at him. He tackled him to the ground. You scream for him to stop, and you beg as you watch the two men roll around in the dirt, watching their fists make contact with one another’s faces.

Your screams must have been heard because Robin and Steve came rushing over, along with a few others, including Carol.

“Please stop! Eddie, baby, please, he isn’t worth it!” You cry.

You watch Steve and Ashton pull the two men apart, holding them back.

“What on earth is going on here!” Carol yells once the commotion stops.

“I don’t know, boss? You tell me,” Billy smirks. “Found these two playing hooky, and the next thing I know, I’m the one getting sucker punched.”

“You little—“

“Stop,” Carol cuts off Eddie before he can continue. “Is that true?” Carol turns to you with a look of disappointment in her eye.

“Not—No, not exactly… our alarm didn’t go off, and we accidentally slept in…” You look down ashamed.

“Our?” She raises a brow to you.

“Uh— mine and Eddie’s…”

“How exactly did that happen?

“We didn’t sleep in our cabins,” you mumble, embarrassed that you were dumb enough to risk this.

“I’m very disappointed in you Y/N.”

“I’m so sorry; it will never happen again,” You try to speak, holding back your tears.

“You’re right; it won’t happen again because you, gentleman…” you watch as she turns to Eddie and Billy, “Are you going home.”

“What?!” They say in unison.

“You can’t seem to be civil; we can make do with only a week and a half left.”

“But Carol—“

“That’s final!” She turns to you.

“As for you, young lady, I’ll give you a warning… I like you, Y/N, and seeing as your little boyfriend is leaving, I would like to think the tardiness will correct itself.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” You bow your head in shame.

This was not like you; you don’t break the rules, you don’t disappoint people, and you definitely do not get into trouble.

“I don’t want to waste any more time. Get back to work...and boys, pack your things. I want you out by lunch."

—

You rush over to Robin to return to your campers, whom Nancy and Cassie are looking after.

“Girl, what happened.” Robin looks at you worried.

“We slept in; Billy found us in the van and called me… it doesn’t matter— and Eddie attacked him.” You sniffle.

Robin hugged you and tried her best to comfort you, but it was useless. Everything was ruined.

You went through the motions the rest of the morning until lunch. You decided not to eat so you could say goodbye to Eddie.

Billy had already packed up and left while Eddie brought his stuff to the parking lot.

“Baby,” you whisper, trying not to startle him as you walk up to him from behind.

“Hey.” He sounded annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I tried to tell you we would get in trouble, but I—“

“I get it, it’s my fault, and now I’m being punished. It is what it is.” He flung the duffle into the mattress where he made love to you the night before.

“Eddie, listen to me,” you beg.

“What?” He snaps at you.

“Oh my god, this is exactly why we can’t be together when we go home. You’re too unpredictable, and your temper is too hot.” You snap back at him.

"What do you mean we can’t be together when we go home?” His face fell.

“I—I”

“You were planning on breaking up with me when summer was over?! Was that it? Perfect little Princess can’t be seen with the town freak! God forbid I taint your reputation.”

“Eddie—wait.”

“So what was your plan exactly? Make me fall for you just so you can rip my heart out? You’re sick, y/n.”

“No— please let me explain!”

“I care for you, don’t you get that!

“And I don’t!? God, Eddie, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.”

"If you told me that yesterday, I would have believed you… but now…. I feel like I don't even know who you are."

"Believe me, please.” You beg, “I love you."

“Then act like it!”

“I can’t, don’t you get it? I can’t be me at home. Have you ever seen me like this in Hawkins?” You pause for his response, but he stays quiet.

“Exactly, no. and there is a reason for that!”

“This isn’t high school anymore; the world is much bigger than Hawkins. You can be whoever you want. You don't have to please mommy and daddy anymore.”

“I can’t”

“Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I—I—just…I can’t.” You really couldn’t. Eddie was right, but you were so scared. You were a coward.

“Fine, I’ll save you the trouble. We are done. That’s what you wanted. You’ll return to your perfect life and move on without me.”

“Eddie, please,” You cried. Tears were blurring your vision as you watched him get into the van.

None of this was supposed to happen this summer. You were supposed to be with Ashley, getting over Eddie Munson and not falling more and more deeply in love with him, only to break your own heart.

You made a terrible mistake.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I have a long trip ahead of me.” he slams the door shut.

“Baby, please,” you grabbed his door handle to open it, but it was already locked.

“Let go.” He tells you when he rolls down the window.

“Can’t we talk about this? Please, you need to understand,” You begged.

“No, I understand it perfectly, baby; you don’t want me.”

“Baby, please, I am so sorry. I love you. I didn't mean it!” You cry.

You cry and cry, and Eddie can no longer watch. He is hurt, he is broken, and he can’t watch you sob any longer, so he puts the car in drive. He didn’t believe you when those three words fell from your lips.

You froze as Eddie drove off without so much as a goodbye. This was not how you wanted things to end. You didn’t want things to end. Eddie was the best thing to happen to you. You needed him in your life. You could not go through life without him now that you’ve had a little slice of heaven with him this summer. You fucked up; you fucked up badly and needed to fix things.

tags: @winchester-angel @josephquinnsfreckles @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @emma-munson @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @rowanswriting @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28 @kellsck @ezzynf @oneforthemunny @brxkenartt @ktiutsa @sofiaadela @guineveresghost @nabiiturner @eddiesguitarskills @comeonatmebruh @sky-full-0f-fl0wers

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x popular!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #take me to the lakes

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1d1195 · 1 year ago

Text

Love and Dryer Sheets - Extra I

Read Love and Dryer Sheets here | ~1.5k words

Warnings: none; fluff (maybe a tiny bit of angst but nothing major)

Summary: Harry and Miss Sunshine are picking Niall up from the airport and Harry is freaking out.

Harry thought there was nothing cuter than how bubbly she was at the airport. The way she was practically bouncing with excitement to see her best friend. Of course, Harry had met Niall the one time back in the laundry room and spoken with him several times over the last several months while she was present.

But as excited as she was, Harry was nervous.

While he thought Niall was somewhat over Harry’s unfortunate first kiss with her, he wasn’t convinced that he had fully forgiven Harry. Honestly, he couldn’t blame him. After all she had been through between her family and her ex, Harry felt just as protective of her heart. It was a tricky start to their relationship, and he was forever grateful to her for being so forgiving.

Harry wasn’t happy. Then he met her, and he was.

It was simple and complicated, and he wasn’t sure he could ever explain it fully to someone who wasn’t her as they would never experience it firsthand. “You’re going to squeeze my fingers clean off, Munchkin,” she gave his hand a gentle squeeze as they waited patiently by baggage claim for Niall to arrive.

Harry dropped the pressure but didn’t let go. He was surprised he could muster enough of a hold on it without it slipping right out. He was so nervous his hand was slick with sweat in hers. “Sorry, Sunshine,” he murmured.

“Are you nervous?” She asked blinking up at him. Those pretty eyes analyzing him immediately. “It’s just Niall.”

“I don’t think Niall has fully forgiven me,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to forgive. It hurt at the time, but it’s over and it’s better,” she squeezed his hand comfortingly. The bustle of people greeting loved ones overpowered most of Harry’s thoughts, but his conscience was happy to remind him that he was the worst.

Maybe Niall will kill you. Harry swore his conscience was actually an entirely separate entity of his mind and was looking forward to Harry’s demise.

His heart didn’t have a response that had anything to do with Niall. Can you be quiet? She’s holding our hand!

Harry wrapped his arm around her and brought her closer to his side so he could kiss the top of her head. “It is better, hmm?” he hummed.

She smiled. The voice of her heart was practically asleep, warmth surrounding it, as it snuggled into Harry’s embrace. The voice in her head was just as quiet, used to Harry’s affection, but almost as stunned by it the first time he kissed her. Harry felt her phone vibrate against him as he held her. It felt sinful for her to move from his side even the little bit that she did, but he let her of course. Watched her bring the phone to her ear. “Hey Ni,” she smiled. She listened carefully and started searching around for her friend. Harry glanced around too, the nerves eating at him more ferociously. “I don’t see you,” she frowned. “Do you see him—? I could just leave you here, Niall Horan. I was kind enough to drag myself and Harry out to get you at this ungodly hour.” Harry smirked and put a hand on her back and pointed across the room to where Niall arrived with his bag in tow. She bolted without warning, Harry chuckled as he followed her.

Niall rubbed her back soothingly and kissed her cheek as she reached him. Her arms around his neck and he mumbled something in her ear for just her. “There’s no place like home, huh, princess,” he winked at her. She rolled her eyes but ignored him all the same. He turned to Harry. “Harry,” he nodded and held his hand out for a handshake.

Harry took it and firmly shook it. Somehow it was twenty times worse than meeting her parents. “Niall,” he answered. Right as Niall released his hand, he punched Harry’s stomach. Hard.

“NIALL!” She gasped as Harry leaned forward, the wind knocked out of him, as he groaned at the impact. She put a hand on his back as he crunched inward.

Harry swore the voice in his head was laughing.

“Sorry, I had to get that out of my system,” Niall shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing the handle of his bag and waited for Harry to disagree or get himself together.

“S’okay,” Harry groaned. “Deserved it,” he mumbled.

“Oh my God, Niall, that was ridiculous!”

“No,” Harry grunted, stood straighter as the immediate pain subsided. He shook his head. “He’s right, I deserved it. S’okay, love,” he assured her. She rolled her eyes.

“There is something wrong with both of you.”

“S’a guy thing,” he promised and grabbed her hand, twined their fingers together. Honestly, if that was all Niall needed to do to forgive him, that was well worth it. There was no Sunshine without Niall’s approval. No days of watching The Wizard of Oz. He didn’t foresee a future Halloween where she, himself, and their future children dressed as the people of Oz and trick-or-treated with their little dog Toto. So, if Niall needed to get that out of his system, Harry was for it.

Plus, Harry felt like it was good retribution for making her cry.

“Ready?” Niall asked casually and she rolled her eyes squeezing Harry’s hand as Niall walked toward the exit.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently.

“M’fine, kitten. Promise. S’well worth it,” he winked at her and kissed her forehead as he tugged her after her friend.

When she met Harry, he was angry. So angry she thought it was his whole personality. But over the year of knowing him, she was utterly surprised to find out what a softie he was. He was snuggly—unbelievably so. His body was wrapped around hers like she was a tree, and he was a vine. His breath was warm on her neck, the steady rise and fall of his breathing was comforting and made her sleepy but part of her didn’t want to drift off. She was enjoying how peaceful this moment was. There was no rhyme or reason as to where they ended up sleeping on any given night. There was one week about a month ago that Harry all but moved into her place. Brought his laundry to fold while she read on the sofa and that was where he stayed until his clothes ran out. Sometimes she pressed her button on the elevator, sometimes Harry’s. It was without thought but it was natural. Completely. His place was just as much hers as it was his.

She wondered if her parents ever had this. Maybe that was why it was so odd to her. It was unfortunate, but she knew that she never had it in her last relationship. “S’matter, Sunshine?” Harry’s groggy, sleepy voice was one of her favorite sounds.

“Nothing,” she leaned toward him, kissed his forehead. “Nothing at all, Munchkin.”

He must have been tired because he didn’t respond, and she thought if he were a little more awake, he would have questioned her more. But he had had a long week and picking Niall up only added to his exhaustion. A quiet groan escaped his lips as he stretched suddenly, and he sat up a little straighter against the headboard and his pillows. Then he flicked on the bedside lamp casting him in a warm glow. He squinted against the light, his face drawn and tired, but he looked ready to talk anyway.

“Harry,” she hummed gently and stroked her fingertips softly along the stubble on his cheek. “S’late and you’re tired.”

“M’fine, kitten. S’matter? What’s going on in your pretty little head?” His voice was still groggy but she knew he wouldn’t sleep until she told him.

There was a pause. “You like snuggling.”

“I do,” he replied with a firm nod. “S’it too much?” He asked.

She shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. It’s...” she sighed. “It’s nice. I... I never had that.”

He turned on his side, draped an arm over her waist and brought her closer to his chest. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Good,” he mumbled.

She smiled. “Good?”

He nodded. “All mine,” he murmured, kissed her forehead. She giggled silently against his chest and inhaled the scent of his cologne. It was so intoxicating, so warm. I wanna be closer. Her heart nearly cried.

We physically cannot be closer. Her brain reasoned.

Her heart didn’t like that answer. “Wish I could be closer,” he mumbled squeezing her gently in attempt to actually get closer. It soothed her heart slightly. Her conscience, if it had the ability to roll its eyes, it would have.

Ridiculous. But she couldn’t help but notice how the voice’s sarcastic tone was the slightest bit appeased by the closeness of Harry.

“I love you,” Harry murmured.

Smiling, against his skin, she kissed the base of his throat and nodded. “I love you,” she whispered back.

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

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wiltedreamofbaldursgate · 1 year ago

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Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself.

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly.

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead.

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.”

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.”

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper.

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap.

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice.

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical.

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him.

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him.

Your frown deepens. “What is?”

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent.

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face…

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though.

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?”

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!”

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other.

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve.

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.”

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn.

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.”

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath.

“Nervous, love?”

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze.

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it.

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.”

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far.

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this.

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?”

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?”

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.”

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes.

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing.

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in.

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair.

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again.

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.”

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive.

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features.

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.”

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do.

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful.

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs.

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again?

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact.

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return.

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.”

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight.

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?”

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest.

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow.

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason.

You’re not his keeper, after all.

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sherewrytes · 1 month ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 14

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Chapter 14: New Beginnings

Toji's POV

I ran my fingers over the rim of my glass, staring into it as if it held the answers I was searching for. Why the hell did I sleep with Y/N? I knew damn well how Sukuna felt about her, and I wasn’t some stranger to the guy. He was my best friend, and no matter how much I tried to push it down, I knew it wasn’t right.

Y/N, though... she was like the fucked-up version of everything. She was beautiful, smart, and so damn unpredictable. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she’d pull some move that’d leave me reeling. And it wasn’t like I didn’t feel something for her. But that damn feeling of guilt always came crawling back to me, clawing at my chest.

She was too close to Sukuna, too much of a reminder of who he was—the guy who had a hold over everything, even me. And now, here I was, caught up in a moment of weakness that I knew would bite me in the ass.

Sukuna deserved better than this, I thought. Hell, I deserved better than this.

I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my skin. I was just playing games with myself at this point, trying to convince myself I didn’t care. But the truth was, I did.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, leaning back in the chair. What the hell had I done?

I caught sight of Y/N again, this time laughing with Mei Mei and Shoko. Her smile tugged at me in ways I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the reality I had to face.

I wasn’t just caught up in a game anymore. This was real. And the consequences? Yeah, I had a feeling they were gonna hit hard, whether I was ready for them or not.

Geto's POV

I sat down next to Toji, feeling the tension in the air between us like a thick cloud. He was drinking, and I didn’t blame him. Hell, I wanted to drink too. But the atmosphere felt like it was getting heavier by the second. I couldn't ignore the way he was acting—like he had his hands tied in a situation that was just... wrong.

"They're grilling Y/N over there about fucking you," I started, my voice low, trying to keep things casual. "I mean, Sukuna isn’t shit—well, I won’t say that. He's a fucked-up guy, but he's our friend, and we... hmm, you... out of all the girls, Y/N, man?"

Toji didn’t respond immediately, but I could see it in his eyes. That guilt, that confusion. I knew him too well. The guy had always been good at hiding it, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not me. Not anymore.

I took a drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke curl up between us before turning to face him. “You know what you’re doing, right? I get it. Y/N’s... Y/N. But you don’t want to be the one who messes with her heart. Not when she’s already been through enough shit with Sukuna. And if you think for one second he won’t notice, you’re lying to yourself.”

I looked at him seriously, watching his reaction. There was more to this than just a quick fuck. Toji wasn’t stupid—he knew the implications of what had just happened. Hell, everyone in this damn room probably did.

"You’re gonna have to figure out what the hell you want, Toji," I said, my voice quieter this time. "But don’t drag her into this mess if you don’t plan on keeping her close. Because Sukuna? He’s not gonna let this slide."

I let the silence hang there, hoping he heard me loud and clear. The last thing I needed was more people getting hurt in this fucked-up cycle we had going on.

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of my words sinking in as I watched Toji’s expression shift. There was something in his eyes that told me he was processing everything. I wasn't sure if it was guilt or regret, but it was there, and it wasn't a look I saw often from him.

"Yeah," I continued, my voice steady but firm, "if you guys keep going down this path, someone’s gonna have to tell Sukuna. We don’t need him finding out on his own, randomly."

I paused, feeling the atmosphere around us grow thicker. Toji shifted slightly, his fingers drumming on his drink, but I could see the flicker of concern in his eyes. I wasn’t here to tell him how to live his life, but damn, he had to know what the consequences would be if this went south.

“I mean, you were there when I checked on him that first time, right?” I said, my tone quieter now, remembering the chaos that had unfolded. “When I found him passed out from an overdose... you all saw the state of his room. It wasn’t just the drugs. It was everything. He was spiraling hard.”

Toji’s eyes flickered to the floor, and I could tell he was thinking about it—thinking about what kind of person Sukuna had become, the lengths he’d gone to try to cope with the mess of his life. And the more I talked, the more I realized that even if Toji didn’t say it out loud, he was starting to understand.

“I don’t think anyone here wants to deal with that again,” I said, my voice softer now, almost a warning. "And yet, if we keep pushing this, if we keep letting things spiral... it’s gonna happen again, and none of us are ready for it."

I watched as Toji’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything right away. We were both stuck in a moment of clarity, a brief second where reality settled in.

“I’m just saying,” I continued, dragging on my cigarette before flicking the ash off the end, “we can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it's obviously not. Either we handle it like we should, or we let it blow up in our faces. It’s on you to decide what’s next."

I leaned back in my chair, letting the smoke fill the air between us. I knew this wasn’t an easy conversation to have, but if anyone could get through to him, it would be now. Because when Sukuna found out, if he found out in the wrong way—things wouldn’t just get messy. They’d get ugly. And none of us wanted that.

YN POV

It’s 11 PM, and just as I’m about to close my eyes and finally get some rest, there’s a knock on my door. It’s been three days since I saw Toji. Three days of quiet, of nothing happening between us after that night. And honestly, part of me was relieved. I’d been second-guessing everything, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. But now, hearing the knock, I felt my stomach flip.

I open the door to find him standing there, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are dark, and there’s an edge to his posture. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me for a moment.

“You couldn’t just text?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out a little more harsh than I intended. I step aside to let him in.

Toji walks in without saying a word. He looks... stressed. More than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something. He starts pacing the living room, his fingers raking through his hair like he’s lost his mind.

“I got a call,” he finally says, his voice rough. “Well, Gojo and I both got calls from Sukuna’s therapist. They wanna extend his stay. They think he’s been getting pills from someone. He’s resisting them... in a sense. But it’s bad, Y/N. I don’t know how bad. I don’t think he’s gonna come out of this on his own. Not without help.”

I watch him pace back and forth, his anxiety growing by the second. I know that Sukuna's been spiraling, but hearing it from Toji like this, in such a frantic state, makes the weight of the situation hit me harder than ever.

I stand up slowly, unsure of what to say. The uncertainty of everything we’ve been avoiding hangs thick in the air between us. As I watch him pace, I feel this pull to do something, anything to help him. But I don’t know where to start.

I reach out, my hand instinctively touching his arm to stop him. He freezes, his body going rigid at my touch. He looks down at my hand, and for a split second, our eyes meet.

His gaze is intense, conflicted, and I can see the weight of everything he’s carrying. “What does this have to do with me?” I ask quietly, my heart racing in my chest, unsure if I want to know the answer.

He stares at me, a flash of pain flickering across his face. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he just exhales deeply and shakes his head.

“Nothing... and everything.” His voice cracks slightly, betraying the calm front he’s trying to keep. He reaches up to touch his face, dragging a hand down it, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “I just needed to tell you... needed you to know.”

I’m not sure what he’s trying to say, or why he feels the need to tell me now. But as I watch him, I know something in him is breaking. And it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something dangerous—something that could change everything.

The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I want to reach out to him, to say something comforting, but I know I can't fix this. I can't fix him, and I definitely can’t fix the mess that’s been created between us all.

Finally, Toji speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. And for a moment, I don’t know what to say back. He’s not just sorry about what happened between us. He’s apologizing for everything—for Sukuna, for the situation, for the way things have played out.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, I realize that the only thing I really want to do right now is make sure he’s okay. Even if it means stepping into a mess I’m not sure I’m ready for.

“You’re not alone in this, Toji,” I say softly, the words coming out more like a promise than anything else.

I watched him pace again, his movements frantic, like he couldn’t settle. Then, just as quickly, he stopped. His whole body seemed to freeze, tension building in the space between us. He took a few steps closer, and suddenly, he was right in front of me, towering over me.

I barely had time to react before he spoke, his voice low, rough, carrying an edge of something... regret? Pain? I couldn’t tell. “I can’t forget about that night,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

My pulse quickened, and for a moment, I couldn’t form any words. I didn’t know how to respond to him, not after everything that had happened. After the way I had kissed him, after the mess we had created.

But he didn’t seem to need a response. He just stood there, looking at me like he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for me to either pull away or lean in.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how everything feels so... wrong right now. This whole situation. What the hell are we doing, Y/N?”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt the weight of them pressing down on me, suffocating me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. What was I supposed to say to that? How could I even begin to make sense of the chaos we’d created between us?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen either,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t just pretend it didn’t.”

He sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair, and I could tell he was trying to piece together something that made sense. “I know,” he muttered. “But this—” He gestured between us, “—this isn’t just about what happened. I’m... I’m worried about Sukuna. He’s messed up, Y/N. And I’m just making it worse.”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself steady. "We're all messed up, Toji. But we can't keep ignoring it. We have to figure out what comes next. For all of us."

He nodded slowly, as if processing everything I said, but there was still a heaviness in his gaze. Something unresolved. Something we both knew we couldn’t ignore anymore.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “but I can’t keep pretending that that night didn’t mean anything. I can’t just... move on from it.”

I swallowed hard, looking up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Neither can I."

Toji leaned in, closing the space between us in an instant. His hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb grazing my skin in a way that made my pulse race. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything hanging over us, but in that moment, I couldn’t pull away.

When his lips met mine, it was different this time. It wasn’t the frantic kiss from before, the one fueled by confusion and desire. This one was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make sense of everything that had been building between us. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just the undeniable truth of what we had shared, and what was still lingering in the air.

His kiss deepened, his hands finding their way to my waist, pulling me closer. I let out a soft breath against his lips, feeling the tension that had been building up between us crack and fall away, piece by piece. I couldn’t tell if I was doing this because I wanted it, or if it was the weight of everything—Sukuna, Toji, the mess we had made—that drove me into his arms. But at that moment, it didn’t matter.

I kissed him back, matching his pace, letting him take control of the moment. For once, I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel like I had to choose. I just let myself feel everything—the pull, the desire, the storm that had been brewing inside of me.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, I knew that something had shifted between us. I couldn’t say this was a mistake anymore. The connection between us felt too real, too raw. It was as if we had crossed a line we couldn’t uncross, and neither of us was ready to turn back.

Toji’s forehead rested against mine as he caught his breath, his hands still resting on my waist. “This... we can’t keep pretending, can we?” he whispered, his voice rough.

“No,” I replied softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle in. The air between us was thick with everything unsaid, every lingering emotion we had tried to bury. I wasn’t sure what it meant, what would come after this. But the intensity of his gaze, the way his hands felt on me, told me there was no turning back now.

Toji pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on my waist, his eyes searching mine as if trying to read my thoughts. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admitted quietly, his voice filled with a kind of vulnerability I hadn’t heard from him before. “I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Toji,” I said softly, my voice shaky. “This... whatever this is, it’s not just a distraction for me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not Sukuna or you.”

He winced at the mention of his name, and for a second, I saw the guilt flash in his eyes. “I know. I know, but fuck, Yn. I can’t stand seeing him like this. And then you... you show up in my life, and all I can think about is you.”

I looked away for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “Sukuna... he’s not well. And you’re right, he’s been spiraling. But I can’t just forget him. He’s part of this—part of me.”

Toji’s hand gently tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze again. “I know. And I’m not asking you to forget about him. But we can’t keep pretending like nothing’s changed between us.”

I nodded slowly, a knot forming in my stomach. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

Toji’s thumb traced the outline of my lips, his eyes darkening slightly as he watched me. “We don’t have to fix anything right now. We just have to figure out where we go from here.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “And if you’re not ready for that, I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter.”

I felt the weight of his words settle heavily on my chest. This wasn’t just about a kiss anymore. It wasn’t just about the confusion or the mess we were all tangled in. It was about something real. Something raw.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, but I wasn’t sure if I meant it for him, for myself, or for the situation we had found ourselves in.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, almost sad smile. “I don’t think any of us are ready. But we’ll figure it out.”

And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t sure about the future, but I was willing to take the next step forward, whatever it might mean.

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and charged, as his body loomed over mine. The sound of my heart pounding in my chest filled the silence. His green eyes, intense and searching, locked onto mine, awaiting my response. I could feel the weight of his presence, the heat radiating from him, but there was something else too—uncertainty, a need for reassurance that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, a distraction.

But I couldn’t push him away, not when every part of me screamed for him. I needed this—whatever this was. The confusion, the hurt, the guilt—it was all too much, and in that moment, being close to Toji felt like the only thing that could keep me from falling apart.

I reached up, my hands trembling slightly as they found the back of his neck, pulling him closer. My breath caught in my throat as our lips met again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation, no waiting for permission. It was raw, desperate—a need to forget everything else, if only for a moment.

Toji responded in kind, deepening the kiss as his hands slid under my shirt, his touch hot and urgent. I gasped as his lips moved down to my neck, the sensation sending shivers down my spine. My hands tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, to drown out the noise in my head with the heat of him.

"Stop me if you don't want this," Toji repeated, his voice low, rough against my skin.

I didn’t say anything at first. I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat, swallowed up by the intensity of the moment. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, or if I even cared. I just knew that in his arms, I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to be anything other than this—us, right here, right now.

I pulled him closer, my body responding to him without a second thought. There was no turning back from this, no avoiding the consequences. I didn’t know what this would mean for Sukuna, for Toji, for me. But at that moment, none of that mattered.

I kissed him again, deeper this time, letting go of everything I had been holding onto.

the warmth of Toji’s body against mine was the first thing I felt when I woke up. His arm was draped around me, his fingers lightly grazing the skin of my waist, his breathing slow and steady as he slept. I could feel the weight of his chest rising and falling against my back, his presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, a wave of realization hit me. Last night. Everything that had happened—it wasn’t just a blur. It wasn’t just a mistake. I had given in to the moment, to the need to feel something other than the pain, the uncertainty. But now, with the morning light spilling into the room, I was starting to question everything.

I slowly shifted, trying not to wake him, but his grip on me tightened. He mumbled something unintelligible, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, but it was mixed with guilt. What had I done?

Toji had been my friend, and I had known the consequences of what could happen between us. But last night... I had thrown all of that away. For what? To fill the emptiness? To escape from the mess of emotions I had been avoiding?

I wasn’t sure.

I stayed still for a moment, letting the calmness of the morning surround me, but as the seconds ticked by, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what had happened, what was still to come. Toji was here, tangled in the mess of sheets with me, but there was someone else I had left behind. Someone I had failed in more ways than one.

Sukuna.

But as I glanced at Toji, the one person who had been here for me in ways I hadn’t even realized, I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt toward him. Despite everything. Despite the situation we had both gotten ourselves into.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I didn’t know what came next, but right now, I couldn’t change what had already happened.

And when Toji’s hand moved from my waist to my chest, his touch lingering a little too long, I let myself sink back into the warmth of his embrace.

There was no turning back now.

Toji had been staying over more often these past few nights, though we didn’t call it anything official. It wasn’t a relationship, not really. We just... fucked around. There was something easy about it, something that kept me distracted, kept my mind from wandering to darker places. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t drawn to him—his strength, his presence, the way he seemed to pull me in without even trying. But there was always that gnawing feeling in the back of my mind.

Sukuna. I hadn’t heard from him since our last encounter, and while part of me felt relief, another part of me felt an undeniable worry. I knew he wasn’t doing well. I knew his struggles—he’d made it clear how much he hated being in that psych ward, how much he despised needing help. And now, Toji... Toji said he would talk to Sukuna when he was in a better place, when he had the right words to explain what had happened between us.

But how could he? How could he explain the mess we had made of everything?

I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, though I wasn’t watching it. My phone buzzed on the coffee table—another text from Toji, checking in. He’d stayed out late last night, and I had been left alone with my thoughts, pacing around my apartment, replaying the same questions over and over.

Was I wrong for what I had done with Toji? Was it worth it? Would Sukuna ever understand?

I sighed and picked up my phone, typing out a quick response to Toji.

“I’m just worried about him. He’s not doing well, and I don’t think anyone’s taking it seriously enough.”

The text was sent, and I leaned back against the cushions, my fingers tracing the edges of my mug. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even if I didn’t want to admit it. I had distanced myself from Sukuna for so long, but now it felt like that distance was growing wider every day.

Toji had mentioned that Gojo and Geto had been giving Sukuna a hard time for being around me, which only made me more anxious. I knew that things had always been complicated between us, but now it felt like everything was falling apart in ways I couldn’t control. Toji had reassured me that he’d handle it, that he’d figure out how to talk to Sukuna once he was better, but I couldn’t ignore the worry settling deep in my chest.

I was afraid of what Sukuna might do when he found out. I was afraid of losing him, even though I didn’t know what we were anymore.

The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt suffocating. I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall, but my mind kept racing with every thought I tried to suppress. The past few days had been a blur of emotions—guilt, confusion, desire—and I couldn’t help but feel lost in it all.

My phone buzzed again, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

“We’ll talk to him when the time’s right. I’m not worried about Sukuna. I’m more worried about us, YN. About what you want.”

I stared at the message for a long time, unsure of how to respond. What did I want? I wasn’t sure anymore. I didn’t know if I could keep going like this, bouncing between Toji and Sukuna, trying to hold on to whatever connection I had left with either of them. I knew I needed to make a decision, but the fear of making the wrong one kept me paralyzed.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall—11:30 pm. Another hour until Toji would likely show up after his shift at the tattoo shop. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what had happened between us, how I had allowed myself to get tangled in this web of uncertainty.

I hadn’t intended to hurt Sukuna. I hadn’t meant to betray him. But every time I tried to justify my actions, I felt more and more like I was fooling myself.

The door clicked open, and I turned to see Toji walk in, his usual smirk playing on his lips. For a moment, I almost forgot everything that had been weighing on me. I stood up to greet him, but the doubts in my mind crept back in, taking root once again.

He could see the change in my expression immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but with that same intensity I was starting to expect from him.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “Nothing,” I said quickly, though my voice betrayed me. “Just thinking.”

He walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, his gaze softening. “I told you I’ll handle it, YN. Sukuna, the guys... they’ll all understand eventually. But you need to be honest with yourself. About what you want.”

I swallowed hard, his words cutting through me in a way I hadn’t expected. He was right. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine, that I didn’t have to face the consequences of my choices. But even if I did face them... what was I supposed to do?

“You’re not the only one who’s confused,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Toji’s eyes softened as he took a step closer, pulling me into his arms. For a moment, I let myself lean into him, savoring the comfort of his touch, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about Sukuna. What was he doing? How was he feeling?

“Everything’s going to work out,” Toji murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

But as I closed my eyes, I knew that nothing was certain anymore. Not with Sukuna. Not with Toji. Not with me.

And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to fix it all.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Toji and I had the day to ourselves, and for once, I felt like I could breathe without the constant weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. He was lounging on the couch, his usual relaxed demeanor on full display as he scrolled through his phone. I was getting ready to make breakfast, the quiet hum of the apartment offering a brief moment of peace.

"So, what do you wanna do today?" I asked, glancing back at him.

Toji looked up, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nothing really, just enjoy the time. We’ve got the whole day."

I chuckled, turning back to the stove. "That’s one way to say you’re lazy," I teased, flipping the pancake on the pan.

He raised an eyebrow. "I’m not lazy, just... selective with how I spend my time."

I laughed, shaking my head. I set the plate on the table and joined him, taking a seat across from him.

Toji’s phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from the moment. He checked the screen and sighed. "Geto and Gojo are gonna visit Sukuna today. They’re going to check on him, see how he’s holding up in that damn place."

I felt a pang in my chest at the mention of Sukuna’s name. I hadn’t seen him in days, and the uncertainty surrounding him weighed heavily on me. I didn’t want to keep avoiding him, but the whole situation was complicated. Toji seemed to sense my hesitation, watching me closely.

"You should go," I said quietly. "Sukuna needs someone who gets him, someone who can really talk to him."

Toji’s gaze softened, but he didn’t respond right away. He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly uneasy. "I’ll go another time," he finally said, not meeting my eyes. "He’s in a better place now. Geto and Gojo can handle it today."

There was a strange tension in the air. He wasn’t saying much, but I could tell he was conflicted. Sukuna was his best friend, after all, and yet... there was something that kept him from going today. Something he wasn’t saying.

I took a deep breath, trying to push aside the gnawing feeling in my gut. "Okay, but just don’t wait too long. He needs you, Toji."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before his usual smirk returned. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll deal with it when I’m ready."

I nodded, but the unease didn’t go away. I wasn’t sure what exactly was stopping Toji from going, but I could feel it. And more than anything, I was scared of what would happen if Sukuna continued to spiral and no one stepped in.

We spent the rest of the day together, trying to forget the heaviness of the situation. Toji kept the mood light, teasing me about everything from my cooking skills to my tendency to overthink. It helped, for a while. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but feel like something was slipping out of reach.

At the end of the day, I knew I would have to face the reality of everything eventually. The growing distance between me and Sukuna. The confusing mess that was my relationship with Toji. And the fear that I might lose them both.

But for now, I let myself enjoy the quiet moment, the soft rhythm of the day passing by with him at my side.

Toji ordered Chinese food and I was heckling him for finally ordering something other than pizza.

I was halfway through my spring rolls when Toji’s phone rang, the familiar tune of Gojo’s contact flashing on the screen. I raised an eyebrow as Toji answered, casually leaning back in his chair, but something shifted in his expression. It was subtle at first—just a quick tightening of his jaw—but it was enough to catch my attention.

“What’s up, Gojo?” Toji asked, his tone still relaxed but with an edge I hadn’t heard before.

I went back to eating, but I couldn’t ignore the way his body tensed. His eyes flicked over to me as he listened, and I could sense something was off. I swallowed hard, trying not to stare, but the feeling of impending tension was hard to shake.

Toji’s calm demeanor began to slip as Gojo spoke, and my eyes narrowed. I caught the words, “What did you say?” and then, “You told Sukuna what?!”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I didn’t need to hear more. The way Toji’s face hardened, the darkening of his expression—it was enough to know that something big was happening. I leaned forward, mouthing What’s going on? as he continued to listen, his hand tightening around the phone.

“Are you fucking crazy, Gojo?” Toji snapped, his voice low, a mix of frustration and disbelief. He stood up, pacing back and forth, and I was left watching him, my mind spinning.

I tried to steady myself, but the knot in my stomach only tightened. The silence on the other end of the line hung heavy, punctuated by Toji’s muttered curses. I had no idea what was going on, but I had the sinking feeling that it wasn’t good. Not for me, and certainly not for Sukuna.

Toji ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, still listening intently. His eyes flicked back to mine. “Sukuna said what?” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

I stood, unable to sit still any longer. Whatever it was, whatever had just happened, I felt the weight of it crushing down on me. My stomach churned as I waited for Toji to respond.

“Gojo,” he said after a long pause, “you better not be playing with me right now. He said, "What about Y/N?”

There it was. My name had slipped from Toji’s lips like a warning. The tone of his voice was low and serious, a far cry from the carefree man I’d spent the afternoon with. I swallowed hard, the realization slowly sinking in.

I moved closer, now standing beside him, waiting for his next words. Toji’s eyes flicked to mine, the tension in the air palpable as the conversation continued. He didn’t say anything to me, but his expression told me everything I needed to know: whatever had happened, I was right in the middle of it.

Finally, Toji hung up the phone, his face drawn with frustration. “Gojo’s an idiot,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I guess... Sukuna knows now.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Know what?” I asked, the words barely coming out.

Toji’s eyes met mine, and I could see the guilt swirling in them. “Knows about... you and me. He’s not taking it well, Y/N. Gojo told him everything.”

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes #jjk sukuna #sukuna

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sunnyie-eve · 4 months ago

Text

53 | Vegas Baby

Series: Unexpected

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Matt being dirty

| MASTERLIST |

"We are in Vegas right now. And we are in..." Matt starts to explain.

"Basically in hell." Dani cuts in fanning herself with her fan.

"Literally, I'm sweating my ass off right now." Matt agrees before going on, "But we are in a very big rush right now. To check in, turn in our bags, and then we're going straight to a casino that our older brother is playing poker in right now." Matt says then explains the potion Justin was playing in at the moment. "We're trying to get there so that when he... Possibly wins this, we are there or if he loses, we're there to celebrate. The crazy second place because there was 11,000 people in this tournament."

When they met up with Justin it was after he got second place, "How are you?" Chris asks him.

"Good."

"That was the worst fucking beat I've ever seen." Matt says as they hug.

"Hey, don't ignore me." Dani laughs at Justin putting a fist out for a bump so he gives her one, "Thank you, love you."

As they meet up with Justin's friends, Chris explains to viewers what they were trying to do, "We're trying to find a place to go and all hangout. Me and Datt are the only three that are under 21." Chris explains using Dani and Matt's ship name, "So it's like annoying cause we don't drink and we don't want to gamble. We want to be able to be freely everywhere."

When they all get on a party bus, Chris automatically asks for the aux making Dani laughs at him. As they play music, Matt records Dani with his phone as she nods her head to the music, "Get into it, girl." He says making her laugh so she does his move punching towards the camera, "Ohh, go Dani! Do the Matt dance."" He cracks her up.

As the older group goes inside a casino for a bit the younger ones stay outside enjoying the scenery, "This is nice." Dani tells Matt as he walks towards her leaving Chris's side.

"Shut up." He tells Chris as he walks off, "The waterfall is." Matt tells Dani.

"Why did you tell him to shut up?" She asks.

"Keeps referring us as Datt to other people." He tells her, "I asked him to stop but all he does is laugh in response. So expect that from him." He lets her know.

As the group keeps walking around Dani turns to film Matt as he looked around, "You look good."

"Not as good as you do." He gives her a smile.

Back at the hotel, Dani was laying in bed on her phone looking at pictures of her and Matt. "You okay?" Matt walks over to her shutting the door behind him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She laughs.

"You weren't very chatty." He sits next to her.

"I was letting you guys hangout with Justin and his friends. So I kept to myself or talked to Memo, but I'm okay." She laughs more.

"Justin sees you as a sister so you didn't need to think you were in the way."

"I didn't but okay." She laughs even more as he moves closer to her, "Can I help you?"

"Yes." His lips meet her lips in a short but sweet kiss.

"I would kiss you more but Memo and Chris are in the living room. Maybe we come back next year just us two." She runs her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, we'll be 21 so we can actually go places." He agrees then smiles, "Drink and have fun. If you know what I mean." He gives her a look.

"I do get what you mean. You're a horndog since we did it." She shoves him away playfully.

"Can you blame me? Look at my beautiful, gorgeous, hot, sexy girlfriend." He gives her the biggest smile.

"You are such a dork." She laughs as he lays down next to her just smiling, "I'm not risking anything in Vegas so don't think about it buddy." She gives him a look and he pouts, "Not gonna work on me love bug. I still love you though." She gets up to go use the bathroom.

The next morning Dani goes to join the boys for breakfast and sees Chris filming their morning and he turns to show her, "Chris, I look like death."

"No, you don't." He gives her a smile so she gives him a grumpy look.

"It's 6am... I know exactly what I look like. Death." She tells him.

"You look fine." He tells her so she takes the camera from him.

"Now, you two look fantastic. The boys looking good." She films the two of them in their robes.

"Take those socks off and really feel the slippers." Chris tells Matt, who tells him no.

"Honestly, I don't care for them." Dani tells them.

"They aren't all that so I don't care. I prefer my own shoes." Matt tells Chris before walking to the table to eat.

"Hopefully for Power Slap the boys will let me wear what I have planned." Dani turns the camera to record herself then turns it to Chris.

"Wear something decent. You're young." He tells her.

"Agree." Matt

"This is my outfit guys!" Dani shows it off, "I know it's Power Slap but I'm still in Vegas." She knew it was a big much for the event. "And yes, both guys hate that I'm wearing this out and I'm not listening to them this time." She laughs, "Don't give me that look Matt." She sees him walk in, "Stop being so grumpy."

"You looking to get a date?" He crosses his arms.

"It's Vegas, dude. I doubt I'll find someone my age."

"It's Power Slap day. We're about to go meet up with Justin." Chris lets viewers know as they wait in the elevator.

A noise happened making Matt look up, "Hate that."

"Aww, just like when we first met." Dani laughs so Matt shakes his head at her.

When they meet up with Justin, Dani waves at him, "Bubba!" She does it to annoy the other two.

"Looking good, sis." He fists bumps her and Chris rolls his eyes.

"Here too?" He sighs then smiles, "Let's just find the north elevator."

"Memo knows where it is." Matt lets the group know.

Arriving at the event, they get their wrist bands and free t shirts as well. "I'm really happy you agreed to come along." Matt walks with Dani by his side.

"Making me sick." Justin looks back at the two.

As they take their seats, Matt makes sure Chris was busy before turning towards Dani, "This a date?" He jokes, "I would count it."

"What are you two talking about over here?" Chris leans over causing Dani to laugh.

"Matt just being dumb." Dani lies and Chris nods his head. As the event starts Dani leans closer to Matt, "You really want to consider this as a date..." She asks him and Justin hears looking over a bit.

"Don't say it." Matt looks at him before leaning closer to Dani while Chris talks to Justin about the slap. "It was a joke. I would never." He lets her know.

Once the event was over, Justin went back with his brothers and Dani to their hotel room. The brother chatted while Dani went to go take a shower. "So Chris has this idea that you should ask Dani out since it's Vegas." Justin tells Matt and continues to talk about it acting like he didn't know about them because of Chris.

"Why are you starting now too?" Matt gives him a look as he stands next to him.

"What happens in Vegas stays-,"

"No," Matt cuts him off not wanting him to push Chris to start as well, "I'm not asking her."

"It's not marriage." Justin laughs at him.

"When will all of you give up on that idea?"

"The day I die." Chris tells him, "I fully believe she would say yes."

"Is one of the reasons because of the hate she would get? You're worried about her."

"Of course I am." Matt tells Justin so Justin looks at Chris.

"They're perfect..." Chris tells him.

"Dude, I can't with you. We're friends and we're okay."

"But I'm not." Chris whines a little.

"I can't." Matt leaves the room and his brothers laugh at him.

#sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #oc #sibilings #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #ff #fanifiction #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #best friends #friends to lovers #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic

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brassrosepetals · 12 days ago

Text

ash & honey (h.a. x reader) [I]

Part I: bullet proof ... i wish i was

prologue

A.N.// I actually wrote this one before the prologue oops. Lots of cryptic exposition. Huge time jump. Also chapters won't be every day I fear it's finals week and I simply won't be able to but I had this one already so enjoy // title track

Warnings: Mentions of death/s*icide, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of canon typical violence and tragedy, drinking, prescription drug usage

Summary: Haymitch and Y/N are instructed to visit the Capitol.

Word Count: ~2k

When the train stopped, I couldn’t breathe anymore.

It had always been this way. As soon as the electric hum of the highspeed engines lulled into silence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a dark cloud was shrouding my mind and a tight grip settled on my heart. Haymitch said it would get easier one day, but that was yet to come. There was nothing I could do but feel the even drum of my heavy heart and hold onto his hand for dear life.

It was night. They had woken us up at an hour I didn’t care to know. At least we could cut the theatrics if we moved in the dark. We could dress comfortably, there would be no one there to watch us slink to the regular apartment in the city center. They wouldn’t hear the quiet conversations, though through the haze of sleep there would likely be none today. No photos, no autographs, just us. And Effie Trinket. No matter how hard he tried, Haymitch couldn’t seem to shake her.

I found her presence comforting. She was a constant for a couple of years now. Her cheery disposition wasn’t as fake as everyone else’s in the Capitol. She was ignorant, of course, a descriptor Haymitch found too kind for her “type” as he called it. She wasn’t just a Capitol citizen. She was an “enthusiastic participant,” he said. I couldn’t blame him. But she was kind to us. Truly, in her heart, she was kind. I wasn’t sure if that was something I could say for the two of us, and the damned are in no place to judge.

Sometimes, I could feel myself grating on him. He loved me, I knew that. He always would in a steadfast, hellbent, obnoxious kind of way that I would never deserve. And even though he could never get enough of me, he wished I wasn’t so forgiving. I tried to tell him, over and over again, I don’t forgive for them. It’s not a come-to-Jesus thing, but that by holding on to my anger I was only punishing myself. There was nothing to do, at least right now, that could help me get even. So instead, I tried to get better. Maybe it was in vain, but at least that struggle was mine. I refused to put another piece of me in their hands. After all they had taken, they could not have this. This mess that they created was mine and mine alone.

Part of me thought this made him jealous, and I wished more than anything to take that away from him. If it were possible I would have cut his love for me in half, quarters, any fraction I needed to make sure he had enough for himself before he was concerned with me. When I told him this, I think I offended him. His love for me was something he had cultivated over time, and he refused to sacrifice his sweet creation for anything as trivial as himself. That day, we agreed that the only solution was to hold enough love for each other to keep us both afloat.

So, when the train stopped, he pulled me up by my heartstrings and forced me out the door like he had so many times before. With sweet nothings and a gentle touch, he threw me off the train, into the streets, and hauled me into the elevator before slinging me onto our familiar bed with the silk sheets I liked. Right now, I needed his heart more than he did, and he was more than willing to oblige. Through the cloud of fear I watched him pad quietly to the kitchen without a word. He knew there was nothing he could say, that I needed a minute to compose myself.

Deep breath in. Hold.

Where is it? Low in my chest, almost in my stomach. I couldn't reach it, it was too deep. But I felt it, that’s what mattered. It was heavy but it’s smooth. Like a paper weight, it pushed on the fabric of my soul and held it down.

Breathe out. It’s still there. That’s okay, it doesn't need to be anywhere else right now. Breathe in. Hold.

You do this all the time. It will lift, it always does. I felt the cooling sheets under my bare legs. That was why I liked them, they were forgiving and soft. I wasn't sure when they started putting these on, but I knew that Haymitch had something to do with it. I'd probably mentioned to him once that I got hot at night. He’s thoughtful like that.

Breathe out. Only one more, because it’s getting easier. Breathe in. Hold.

I almost wanted to wonder where he went, but I knew. He went where he always goes once he knows I’m taken care of: He was running from the darkness and the cobwebs and the tainted memories. At first he was, at least. Then he would come back with—

The door clicked open. I knew it would sooner than later. He always comes back.

His eyes were mild and his lips were red. He’d been drinking. I knew it before the smell hit me and before I saw the wet spot on his collar. He spilled, again. He was taking shots, feeling the burn of the smokey brown liquid trace his stomach in the hopes it would distract from the strain on his heart. He carried a sweating glass of ice water and one-and-a-half little white bars quietly over to me. His routine hadn't wavered in years. My guardian angel. My knight in shining armor. My own personal pharmacy.

Except, he wasn’t. He knew me too well. He knew I didn't like to take the pills, but he knew better when I’d reached my limit. Even worse, he knew how I got when I reach it unmedicated. To this day, I have never forgiven myself for what I said to him, and if I get my way I never will. So, when times are desperate, he always has a little something to take the edge off.

When he reached me, he held the cup out gingerly, watching me take a sip and hold it in my mouth before he gave me the pills. His eyes bore down on me, quietly supervising as I dumped them in my mouth and swallowed it all down. Once I'd taken them I felt relaxed instantly, a placebo effect because I knew their serenity well. I would soon be deep in a dreamless sleep for as long as they’d let me lie. The rough skin of his hand juxtaposed the soft skin of my face, right at the jaw line. His eyes hadn't left mine, his brow set in a hard line as I watched him read my face.

“You okay, babydoll?” Barely above a whisper, throat still scratching with sleep and liquor.

“Yeah,” I whispered, nodding into his hand and letting him hold it there a moment longer, “Just tired. I miss my bed.”

The smile he cracked was almost imperceptible. Only my practiced eye would be able to pick up on it. He knew. He knew how much I hated playing my assigned role. Going in front of the cameras, telling them how in love we were. We were in love, of course. We were in a love I didn’t think I was capable of. One that stalked me before pouncing, that crept into the stone-cold cracks in my soul and filled them with something hot and syrupy. One that made me know I was crazy. One that allowed me to to feel like I was always falling, forever diving deeper into gentle pressed kisses and whispered words of understanding. And that sanctity, that little piece of heaven, was taken from us at minimum once a year, often more. Often on his birthday no less. It was a terrible shame for us to have to spoil it, and to spoil it with Ceaser Flickerman of all people.

Ceaser and I didn’t get along. Never in an explicit way that would show on camera, definitely in no way that would get back to President Snow because neither of us needed that, but in quiet ways backstage. In and up-and-down looks and back and forth verbal fire kind of way. My attitude, in all fairness, was not always pleasant on that set. I didn’t want to be there, what can I say. I am always polite, especially to his below-the-line staff. I knew they were victims of his, having caught him in his worst moments speaking to them in the most unprofessional ways.

It came to a head on a particularly rough day after Haymitch had lost both of his tributes in the bloodbath. A girl, seventeen, one year away from being free of the reaping, loud and rebellious and talking big of institutional change. But her voice carried all the way across President Snow’s desk, and we knew she had lost the game before it even started. And the boy, only thirteen, who weeped for his mother for a week before the games began, he broke our hearts. We tried to keep him comfortable, it was all we could do. He stepped off his platform early and Haymitch said it was best case scenario. Anyway, I couldn’t watch another spirit be broken by the Capitol and I had some choice words with him. Ever since that day, he preferred to talk to Haymitch.

Haymitch pulled his hand from my cheek and leaned down to ghost his lips to the top of my head, breath still reeking of Capitol-quality liquor. “Get ready for bed, we can sleep in tomorrow.”

With a ghosting grin I made my way to the walk-in closet. A floor-to-ceiling mirror allowed me to see myself in full. The dark circles around my eyes threatened me. We know, they whispered. We know you can’t sleep. We hear your late-night thoughts and we feel the silent tears. This new person, this girl that I’ve become, felt like work. She wasn’t me, but she was permeating my life. Her passivity had a hold on me. Her fear of attracting the wrong attention was paralyzing, and its freezing touch was one she knew well. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, we shared a moral compass— Her integrity was something she still refused to compromise. She loved with her whole heart, even if that meant it got broken. But she was handcuffed to me. Sometimes I wanted to be alone, to curse uncensored, to fall apart and put myself together in my own, dramatic way, in my own time. I felt suffocated by her, and we were both drowning together.

I turned to the drawer, the grey cotton nightgown with the white lace trim was right where it always was, laundered and folded neatly at the top of the drawer. How they knew it was my favorite, I chose not to think about. I’m sure I must have said it at some point. I’m sure that place was bugged. Maybe they were watching us. How boring that must be, I thought

The pill was starting to work then. It was a type of calm that I could only feel with the assistance of those tiny white pieces of gold. I rubbed my eyes when they started to burn with sleep and pattered my way to the tiled bathroom, too familiar with the route to need to see, and as always gravitated to the right side of the jack and jill sinks. Splashing some cold water on my face— something Effie swore by to keep her skin taut —with tap water was my last task before taking refuge in unconsciousness. Haymitch was in bed already, bare-chested and eyes lulling heavily. For a moment I could only watch him, for this comfortable silence was temporary. We both knew it, and we would both take advantage.

I climbed in carefully next to him, scooching over to his side of the bed to leech off of his heat. Without looking, by instinct, his arm extended out to encircle my shoulders as my head found it’s place on his chest. I felt it rise before feeling a puff of air blow down on the top of my hair. We were safe tonight, and we basked in it. He traced circles across my shoulder as he settled.

I was barely awake long enough to hear him whisper “I love you” before I slipped into the dark.

Part II

#haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #thg haymitch

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roseghoul26 · 11 months ago

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Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul.

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp.

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself.

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go.

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul.

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months.

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial.

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped.

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done.

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head.

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart.

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more.

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.”

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while.

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them.

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again.

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him.

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.”

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this.

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you.

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond.

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face.

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night.

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands.

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it.

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating.

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it.

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything.

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

#the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout prime #fallout show #fallout

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