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delulugirlulu · 2 days ago

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Unraveled | Chapter 2: Crossing the Line

Characters - Sylus x Reader, Sylus x Y/N

Word Count - 1,468

A/N - This took a HOT MINUTE, my last post Chapter 1: Tension and Tease was posted last October 13, I'm so sorry, life happened (｡>﹏<) But here I am now, and the Chapter 2 as promised! Will be drafting Chapter 3 and scheduling it to make-up for the lost time!

And now, the story...

The soft hum of the city outside faded into the background, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the crackling tension between them. Sylus’s hand, warm and steady, traced slow patterns along Y/N’s back, every stroke sending sparks of electricity down her spine. She trembled under his touch, her body responding before her mind could catch up. They’d been teetering on the edge of this moment for so long, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Sylus asked again, his voice rough, barely a whisper as his lips hovered over her skin. His breath was warm, teasing her ear, and each word vibrated in her chest like a promise laced with danger.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart. Her body felt on fire, every nerve alive, every inch of her skin hypersensitive to his touch. She could feel his warmth beneath her fingertips, the hard muscles flexing under her palm as she clung to him. There was no doubt in her mind—she wanted this. She wanted him.

“I’m more than okay,” she breathed, her voice soft but certain. Her gaze flicked to meet his, her eyes wide with anticipation. “I want this, Sylus. I want you.”

His red eyes darkened, the heat in them intensifying as his grip on her tightened. “Once we cross this line, there’s no going back, kitten,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver racing down her spine. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The danger, the thrill of what was about to happen only made her want it more. She knew this wasn’t a decision to take lightly, but with Sylus, the pull was irresistible. He was her chaos, her storm, and she wanted to dive into it, no matter the cost.

“I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “I need this… I need you.”

Sylus’s gaze flickered with something dark and primal, and in that moment, the thin thread of restraint he’d been holding onto snapped. With a low, guttural growl, he pulled her onto his lap, his hands gripping her hips possessively as he crushed his mouth against hers. The kiss was hard, hungry, filled with all the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. Y/N melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every dip as if he couldn’t get enough. His touch was demanding, but there was a tenderness beneath it, a reverence that made her heart ache with something more than desire. She pressed herself closer to him, grinding her hips against his, feeling the hard length of him through his jeans. The sensation sent a jolt of heat through her core, and she moaned into his mouth, her body arching against him, desperate for more.

“Fuck, kitten,” Sylus groaned, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin as his lips trailed down her throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Y/N whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his hands slid under her shirt, the rough calluses on his palms scraping against her bare skin. His touch was everywhere, overwhelming her senses as he slowly, torturously, peeled her shirt over her head. The cool air hit her bare skin, but the heat of his body quickly replaced it as he pressed her back against the couch, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that left her dizzy.

“I want you,” she gasped between kisses, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel him, all of him. “I need you.”

“You have me,” Sylus growled, his voice low and rough as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside. His hands moved to her shorts, his fingers working quickly to unbutton them before pulling them down her legs in one swift motion. “You’ve always had me, kitten.”

His words sent a thrill through her, and before she could respond, his lips were on her again, moving down her body with slow, deliberate kisses. He sucked at the soft skin of her collarbone, then lower, trailing down to the swell of her breasts. His fingers brushed over her nipples, teasing them through the fabric of her bra before pulling the straps down her shoulders, baring her to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he rasped, his eyes darkening as he gazed at her. His hands slid down her sides, squeezing her hips before pulling her down to meet him. His lips closed around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before sucking it into his mouth.

Y/N gasped, her body arching against him as pleasure rippled through her. “Sylus… please…”

He groaned against her skin, the vibrations sending another wave of heat through her core. “Patience, kitten,” he murmured, his lips moving lower, down her stomach, teasing the waistband of her panties. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

Her body was trembling with anticipation, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as his fingers hooked into her panties, pulling them down her legs. She was beneath him now, vulnerable—and yet, all she felt was desire, burning hot and insistent.

Sylus’s hands gripped her thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between her legs, his breath warm against her inner thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger as his lips brushed against her skin. “I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as his mouth hovered just inches away from her core, the anticipation almost unbearable. Her body ached for his touch, every nerve alight with need. And when his tongue finally flicked out, brushing against her clit, she gasped, her back arching off the couch as pleasure shot through her.

“Fuck, Sylus!” she cried, her hands gripping the cushions as his mouth worked her over, his tongue swirling and teasing her sensitive bud. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes that had her trembling beneath him.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her, his lips sealing around her clit as he sucked gently, sending another wave of pleasure crashing over her. “I could do this all night.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning, her body on fire as she writhed beneath him, desperate for more. “Please… don’t stop…”

He chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound as he slid one finger inside her, then another, pumping them slowly as his mouth continued to work her over. “I’m not stopping until you come for me, kitten,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I want to see you fall apart.”

Her body responded to his command, her muscles tightening as the pressure inside her built, spiraling higher and higher until she was teetering on the edge. His tongue moved faster, swirling over her clit in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and Y/N could feel herself unraveling, the pleasure too much to contain.

“I… I’m going to—” she gasped, her voice breaking as the orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she cried out his name. Her thighs trembled, her mind going blank as the pleasure tore through her, wave after wave crashing over her.

Sylus groaned, his tongue never stopping, his fingers still pumping inside her, drawing out every last bit of her release until she was left trembling, breathless, and completely spent.

When he finally pulled away, his lips glistening with her release, he crawled back up her body, his eyes dark and filled with hunger. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice soft but commanding. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before he was on her again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself between her legs. His cock, hard and heavy, brushed against her entrance, and she shivered in anticipation, her body still pulsing from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“Are you ready for me, kitten?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, sending shivers down her spine. The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, and she nodded, unable to find her voice as the weight of what was about to happen settled over them. “Because I’m going to take you to places you’ve never been.”

Y/N’s heart raced, her body already aching for more. “Please,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “I want you, Sylus. I want all of you.”

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Read this in order >>> [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Feedbacks and comments are welcome! Just don’t be mean/rude or nasty in general because why the fuck would you? I will cry ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

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tiiraameesu · 3 hours ago

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The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

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After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

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As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

#angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x you #gojo angst #tiiraameesuTOTGA

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grapejuicebluesrry · 2 days ago

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28th november fic rec!

*welcome to the final show*

this is the last 28th appreciation of 2024 for me, as i'll be posting my 2024 fic recs in the last week of december so ill just include my december recs in there :)

so! here's my november fic recs:

Eternal Summer (65K) by j_klmnop

After the death of his estranged father, Harry makes the trip from London to Naples, Italy to say his goodbyes. He has seven days before the funeral and since he's on summer break from university, he decides to make a road trip out of it.

His carefully planned trip is thrown a loop when he meets a beautiful blue eyed hitchhiker named Louis, who is trying to escape his controlling family. With no destination in mind— just the desire to get as far away as possible, Louis decides to tag along for the ride to Italy, with plans to continue on once they arrive.

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now that we're alone (say you hate me) (18K) by 28goldensfics | @28goldens

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Co-Project Managers, constantly bickering at work, always finding themselves at odds, and competing to be the best. When a scheduling mishap with their company’s timeshare forces them to share a summer vacation, they're less than thrilled. But, as they navigate their time together, they realize that their animosity might be masking something a bit deeper than the hate.

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reminiscence (259K) by Fxckinf

“I’ll always look after you.” Louis whispers.

“Always?”

“Always and forever, Harold.”

Louis and Harry were the friends that fell in love and then broke up. Harry tries to navigate having his ex in his friendship group, which only gets harder when it becomes apparent that there’s a secret.

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if we were butterflies (52K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice.

or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

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Seeing Blind (46K) by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

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Stars over Amsterdam (4K) by HelloLovers13 | @hellolovers13

Louis remembers how stressed they were, trying to get tickets at all. The waiting for the email with the code, which only Louis got, the actual On-sale. How Harry stood behind him, peeling at his nails nervously. Trying not to distract Louis.

But it had all gone smoothly and he had gotten the tickets within just a few minutes.

Harry had jumped around Louis’s chair in excitement like a bouncing ball. Already starting to plan their outfits.

A gold fringe dress for Harry, Fearless was his favourite album, after all, and a matching shirt he had found online for Louis. So people could tell right away they were an item.

That was their plan. Before it all went to shit.

Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex.

Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

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[series] I See Us in Black & White (70K) by Ioudloudlove

Harry Styles is just your average 20-something. He followed his soul to a new town and now he works hard as a barman and lives alone in his little house. That is until he's swept off his feet... literally.

When Harry regains consciousness, his entire world has changed. Everything that was once black and white is now flooded with colour. And the first person he sees is his soulmate...Liam.

What Harry didn't count on was Liam's best mate...Louis. What is it about him that Harry just can't let go of? Why has his entire world been turned around? And is it really possible to walk away from your soulmate to chase a dream?

Original Prompt:

soulmate au where you see the world in black-and-white until you meet your soulmate. Harry Styles meets two people at once at the moment he first sees in colour, makes the wrong choice, and falls in love with the right one anyway

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Whole Lot of History (73K) by Blue_Green28 | @bluegreen28fics

Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

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Not having a breakdown! (I'm just here for the kid.) (28K) by louisismycat (tiflamomet) | @liminalkitty369

Harry has to park outside his ex-husband’s (Louis) wedding so that he can whisk their kid away if a meltdown ensues during the day. Guests will not know this and will only see him parked outside, it cannot be stressed enough, his ex-husband’s wedding.

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Hazelbridge (77K) by CoolCrying

Nestled in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, the tiny town of Hazelbridge has been home to Louis and his family for generations. Heir to his grandfather's historic bookshop, Louis lives a quiet but happy life, providing a hub for the town's many queer people, and indulging his love for books. That is, until Harry Styles comes to town.

This is the story of a town and two bookshops. It's the story of a family, and two boys with very different stories, who fell in love.

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At Least Let Me Buy You Dinner First (35K) by Anonymouis

“I said, Harry. As in Styles. AKA you. You’re pretty and certainly a piece of art if you ask me.” Louis mewls.

“Oh,” Harry breathes. He takes a moment taking in Louis.

Louis watches his eyes work their way all over his face and body trying to read him. Luckily, he knows just how to read Harry. The moment their eyes meet again, Louis leans in a little at a time, as slowly as possible. His heart racing, giving Harry all the time to back out, but then, Harry is reaching around Louis’ wrist and sliding their hands together, lacing their fingers and leaning in as well.

Then…

The bell above the door rings.

They both pull back at light speed, sniffling and coughing from almost being caught. Harry trips over his own feet with the force that he used. Giggles fall from both of them while Louis steadies him.

“First day with legs there, bambi?”

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Come What May (58K) by j_klmnop

Louis didn't believe in love at first sight until he met his neighbour Harry, the gorgeous man in the apartment next door who saved lives and had a smile that made his knees weak.

Louis was determined that today was the day he would finally grow some balls and ask Harry on a date.

Until his plans were disrupted by an unexpected delivery. One that would surely ruin his chances at any kind of love life.

Or, maybe it would be just what Louis needed to bring he and Harry closer together.

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2 a.m. texts (30K) by everysingleday

Harry has just come out and, with his best friend Louis’ support, he might finally be brave enough to go on a date with the guy he’s been chatting with on a dating app. Meanwhile, there’s a cat that wants to murder Louis, a fast-approaching deadline for Harry to find a new place to live, and this minor situation wherein he and Louis can’t seem to stop making out. It’s not a big deal. Louis is just being supportive.

—

aka, a practice kissing fic.

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Roman Empire (11K) by Speechless

One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower.

That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago.

And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”

He hears Harry laugh for a moment.

“I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.”

Louis bites back a little smile.

“Have you asked enough people?”

“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Written for the BLFF 2024

Based on prompt 205: A Larry fic that includes the “I love you,” “no, you don’t” convo.

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stat time!!

948,562 words read (2% less than last month)

25 fics read (4% less than last month)

25 authors (0% more than last month)

🍫 for you for making it this far

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry fics #hljournal #tracking happily #monthly fic rec #tracksintheam #trackinghome #november fic rec #larry fic rec #hlficlibrary #larry fic #ao3 feed larry #1d fic library #larry stylinson

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spectres-fulcrum · 2 days ago

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I knew my getting back together fic would hit eventually. Chalk full of my Tommy headcanons because he wanted to be vulnerable, plus some shit I had to make up to fit the break up. (MY Tommy never left therapy *grumbling*)

I love them so much and they were in love for this entire piece. It's a matter of when, not if really, once Tommy calls Buck. This is one of those Tommy calls Buck to ask for coffee to explain shit, but this time the week of what should've been their anniversary.

Snippet:

“After the pandemic, there was another guy, Nick. Not as new as James. He had hooked up with dudes, but I was his first serious thing. I liked him, thought we could be together a good amount of time. He broke up with me because I was sweet for a first queer relationship, but he was looking for passion. It hurt.”

“So when you said firsts aren’t lasts, you were truly speaking from experience,” Buck said, understanding. Tommy nodded.

“The moment you said it was your first date with a dude, I had sirens going off, Evan. But I liked you. And when you sat here on this patio and asked for a second chance, I pushed them back and decided it’d be fun. I have never fallen for anyone like I have you. Baby, I have stopped myself from looking at rings. I wanted you living with me within a month of Gerrard’s reinstatement. Seeing you come home in emotional pain was torture for me. It wasn’t fun. It was for real. And then you started talking like you never saw me as anything but some gay mentor you put on some pedestal and I knew I had to run to save myself. If you left me for passion, for someone else, I would be getting over you my entire life. Baby, sweetheart, Evan, there is no one after you breaking my heart,” Tommy said.

“I am so sorry,” Buck said.

BONUS Tumblr Snippet:

“Hey, hey, hey. So I hear you on the paragon thing. I-I had just had a weird talk with Josh about you living in a pre-Glee world and as a post Glee queer I couldn’t judge you for leading on Abby and had to respect your scars and-”

Tommy made a face.

“Wait, Josh gave you some speech about Glee changing queer rights? I mean it kind of did but people worked damn hard for everything you and I benefit from, coming out in a post marriage equality world. And about me hurting a woman you loved was something you had to honor? Evan, baby, no,” Tommy sounded horrified.

“Oh,” Buck said.

(You're welcome)

#bucktommy #tevan #my writing #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fanfiction

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sleepyfaceandsnark · 2 years ago

Text

Worry

TK has anxiety about Carlos going back to work.

AO3

If we're still alive My regrets are few If my life is mine What shouldn't I do?

TK wakes to the sound of their dresser drawer being opened and shut. He rolls over and feels that Carlos isn't there. Okay, so someone wasn't breaking in to steal their socks.

TK sits up slowly. "What're you doing?"

"Getting ready for work," Carlos says nonchalantly, closing the drawer after he gets what he's looking for.

"Work?" TK pulls the covers off himself. "Already?"

"It's been a few weeks," Carlos pulls his shirt over his head. "I have to go back eventually."

TK makes his way over to his fiancé. "Yeah, but isn't it a little soon?" He asks. "You were kidnapped by a serial killer. You died. If you need someone to vouch for you about that I was literally there. Your dad too."

"I don't need that," Carlos says.

He looks to TK who's looking down at the ground. Carlos grabs TK's hand and squeezes it. "But thank you." He smiles.

TK looks at him and sighs. He gives him a small smile but it's still not confident enough for Carlos.

"I'll be fine," he assures TK putting both of his hands on TK's shoulders. "Okay?"

TK nods. "Okay."

Carlos moves his hands to TK's cheeks and kisses him. "Okay." He leaves one hand still holding TK's face. "I'll see you tonight."

TK nods again. His shift starts an hour or so after Carlos', so he'll get home just as Carlos finishes dinner. He keeps that thought in his mind to help him get through the day. Carlos will be back here when he's out of work. He won't be out looking for the boogeyman. He'll be safe.

"What's with you?" Nancy asks.

It's 3 hours into their shift and they've gotten exactly one call so far. Since it's determined as a slow day (though no one says it from fear of jinxing it) they've all been gathered at the dining table for the past half hour.

"Nothing," TK says.

"Dude, you're shaking the table," Nancy comments and points to TK's leg.

TK looks at his leg bouncing and grabs it to stop it.

"What is it?" Nancy asks again.

TK bites his lip, not really wanting to say but Nancy's look tells him she'll get it out of him eventually. "Carlos is back at work today."

"Already?" Paul asks.

"That's what I said!" TK exclaims.

"Well, the only one to know if he's ready is himself, right?" Judd comments. "Maybe he is."

"Or maybe he's not but he thinks he needs to be," TK comments.

"Do you think he's getting pressured to come back?" Paul asks.

"I don't know," TK says. "He told me he chose. Even said they offered him more time, but he denied it but I..." TK looks away, he starts biting his nail.

"Have you called him?" Paul asks.

"No," TK drops his hand. "I'm afraid he'll think I think he can't handle it."

"When it's really you that can't?" Nancy asks.

"I mean what if he freezes up or what if he goes off on his own again and gets stuck?" TK asks. His eyes are wide just like how they were the day Carlos went missing.

"I doubt he's going to make that mistake again," Nancy tries to make light of it but TK isn't taking it.

"Look we all have dangerous jobs," Judd says. "There are no guarantees."

"I mean look at you. How many near death experiences have you had?" Nancy says.

The fact that TK is running out of fingers to count them on should tell him something. "Yeah," TK scratches his head.

"This ought to take your mind off of it," Judd says, putting a plate in front of TK. "My great Aunt's recipe."

TK gives a half assed smile up to Judd. "Thanks, but I'm not really hungry."

TK pushes his chair back and moves away from the table. Nancy, Paul, and Judd watch TK walk over to the TK and sit on the couch. His foot rests on the corner of the coffee table, vibrating like it was at dining table a few minutes ago, as he starts biting his thumbnail again.

Mateo comes back from the restroom and takes TK's spot at the table. He starts complimenting Judd's cooking as the rest look from TK to him.

"What?" Mateo asks, mouth full of food.

Judd sighs. "Alright. Let's eat. Before Mateo hogs it all."

Nancy and Paul get in line as they advert their eyes away from TK.

"Gimme a minute," Nancy says as she slides her phone out of her pocket.

"What're you doing?" Paul asks.

"Calling the only other person that can talk TK down."

Carlos feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He excuses himself from his coworker as he takes it out of his pocket. The caller ID tells him it's Nancy and it arises a slight panic in him. It's not like she hasn't called him for other reasons, but his body will always flashback to that one call during the blizzard a year ago.

"Nancy?"

"Hey!" Nancy greets friendly and Carlos relaxes.

"Your fiancé'," Nancy draws out playfully. Then she looks over at TK. His leg bouncing, his nail biting, and now his hands gripping his head as if he was begging the thoughts to stop. She sobers up her voice. "TK's worried about you."

Carlos sighs. "I told him I'm fine."

"And you never say that and don't mean it, right?" Nancy asks knowingly.

Carlos lets out a small laugh. "Maybe. But really, I am."

"Yeah, well he doesn't seem to think that."

"I thought work would take his mind off worrying?" Carlos asks.

"Yeah, we've gotten about...one call so far?"

"One?"

"Mhmm."

"Jesus," Carlos sighs and looks at the piles of paper in front of him. He rubs his temples.

"Yeah."

"I'd come by but," Carlos stops to lift one of the piles off and put it on top of another. "Got a lot of paperwork here."

"Yeah of course. It stacks up I bet. Look I just wanted to let you know. TK didn't want to say anything. Didn't want you thinking he didn't trust that you'd know you were okay or something but..."

"Yeah. I'll talk to him at dinner. Or if this workload lightens up."

"Okay. Hey maybe we'll get a few emergencies in a bit and take his mind off of it."

"Begging for emergencies. You sound like TK."

Nancy laughs. "You know," she says serious again. "Not that TK hasn't told you a million times, I'm sure, but if you're not ready to be back."

"I know. Thank you."

"No problem."

They hang up.

‘Luckily’ about 10 minutes after Nancy hangs up, they get a call and from there it was call after call until their shifts were over.

TK checks in on Carlos after the second call with Carlos reassuring him again that he’s okay. They get interrupted by TK’s 3rd emergency and then TK doesn't have the time the rest of the night.

TK gets home exhausted both physically and mentally. As much as the emergencies took his mind off of worrying for the time being, he still found time to in between. He hates the extreme sigh of relief he breathes out when he opens the loft doors and sees Carlos safe, smiling, setting the table up.

"Hey, babe," He greets TK with a smile. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

TK's stomach was in knots all day but he doesn't want to make Carlos think anything is wrong so he musters the best fake smile he can. "Smells good."

Carlos turns away to grab the sizzling pan and TK drops his smile. Carlos doesn't notice. He's too busy fixing their plates. TK takes off his jacket and drapes it on the couch as Carlos goes to put the plates on the table.

"Dinner is-"

Carlos is cut off by TK grabbing him for a hug.

"TK?"

TK doesn't answer, just squeezes tighter.

Carlos runs his hands on the back of TK's neck and pulls himself to the crook of TK's neck. He rub's TK's sides. "Hey."

TK pulls away. Carlos grips his face and tries to look into his eyes but TK's are meeting the floor. Carlos takes a quick look back at the dining table, hot food that he spent the past hour making getting cooler by the minute. He looks back at TK.

"We need to talk," he says. He needs TK's undivided attention, not distracted by food he may or may not eat.

"Food's getting cold," TK comments.

"Were you going to eat much of it?" Carlos asks fully aware that it was unlikely. "It was going to get cold either way."

"You should eat though," Not even defending himself from Carlos' comment.

"I can wait a bit. Come on," Carlos says. He nudges his head to towards the living room. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Let me just put these away in some containers."

As much as he really wanted a hot home cooked meal this is more important.

TK listens and disappears to the other side of the loft.

As soon as the food is put away Carlos makes his way over to the couch. TK's leg is shaking ever so slightly in nervousness. If it was anyone else besides Carlos, they wouldn't have even noticed. Carlos touches TK's legs gently as he sits next to him. The shaking stops as if by magic.

"What'd you want to talk about?" TK asks and Carlos almost laughs. It's so innocent, not that TK was in trouble or anything, but he had to at least have some clue what this was about.

Carlos sighs and scoots even closer to his fiancé. "Nancy called."

"She did?" TK asks, genuinely surprised. "When?"

"Earlier today," Carlos says. He tries to wait for TK to connect what it possibly would be regarding but when it's silence for a while Carlos lets it out. "She was worried...about you...worrying about me." Carlos smiles softly.

"That's a lot of worrying," TK comments. He looks to Carlos to laugh it off and let it go but he doesn't. TK sighs and looks down at his hands and starts wringing them.

"TK..."

"What? I'm not allowed to worry?"

"No one is saying that," Carlos places his hand on top of TK's. His thumb massages TKs knuckles.

"It's just...it's too soon." TK says now gripping Carlos' hand "You didn't have enough time. You're not ready to go back."

"I'm not ready?" Carlos asks. "Or you're not ready for me to go back?"

"Both?" TK shrugs.

"TK, I told you-"

"I know what you told me, but you could just be saying that. You're always trying to hide how you feel and I get it but," Tk stops himself. "You don't have to bury it anymore."

"I know I have a history of doing that, but I promise you I'm ready."

TK opens his mouth but hesitates.

"You don't believe me," Carlos says.

TK sighs. "You don't get it. You died under me. "

"I don't get it?" Carlos asks. His voice is soft, no anger in his voice detected. "You don't think I worry any time you go on a call? With the track record of the 126. You don't think I worry every time Nancy calls like she did today? Thinking it'd be like the snowstorm."

TK tries to look away from Carlos' eyes, but Carlos moves his head so slightly to look back into them.

"TK you've almost died on me twice, at least once before we met, got kidnapped, and were in apparently 3 comas. I worry about you every minute of every day."

TK looks down but Carlos touches his chin to raise his face back up to his eye line. "But I trust you and I know you're doing what you love, and I'd never stop you from it. So, I need you to trust me that I know I'm ready to get back and do what I love."

TK nods slowly. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying."

Carlos smiles. "I didn't say you had to. But you can't let it get in the way of work. Or of us."

TK sighs and smooths his hands over his legs. "Okay," he says softly.

"Okay," Carlos says back. He grabs TK's hand as he sands back up.

"I love you," TK says.

"I love you too," Carlos says back. "Now let's eat. I'm starving and if we hurry it might still be warm."

Now they wish it was all up from there, anxiety free days for both of them, but there will always be an added worry to both of them now every time they leave the house or part from each other. It's just how life goes. Some days TK gets in his head too much when Carlos doesn't answer the phone right away and Carlos still panics when Nancy calls him even if it's just to ask what snacks to bring for a loft hang after work. They both make promises to talk it out with each other if it gets too much and to never tell the other to quit or leave unless it was truly their best interest.

#tarlos #tk x carlos #tk strand x carlos reyes #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lonestar #911 ls #fanfiction #posted last week but it's so hard for me to get on here #hurt/comfort #prompt request #post 4.04 #my stuff #my fics #my writings #fanfic

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