#replying late but grateful ever the same
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@catzachvsvt thank youuu 🤭❤️
@yellowclingdiced-blog yess freaks matched hehe 😏🤐 thank you for readinggg
@minvxq ahhh thank you, I'm glad you liked it ❤️
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Anything and Always (YJH)
Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?
Pairing - Afab!reader x Yoon Jeonghan
Word count - 3.9K (this is a miracle)
Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and then there's more pyscho-ness, it's a rideee! Warnings under the cut!
A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's!
Big big big thanks to @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - you guys were really the hands behind this one ❤️
warnings - death, murder, blood, lots of toxic emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, extreme insensitivity, PDA, sex in a public place but no one sees them? unprotected sex, rough sex, filthy talk, marking, manhandling, mentions of blowjobs and sloppy seconds, mentions of exhibitionism, choking, creampie, fingering, stalking, obsession, disposing bodies mentioned?, honestly this whole fic is just a warning at this point, idk what to say
“.....Police say that this is possibly the most brutal act of violence they have come across in Seoul city in a long time. The forensics department is still trying to identify the body but estimate that the time of death might have been around 6 months ago. The motive of the crime is still unclear and….”
Ignoring the sound of the tv you glanced at the two figures on the other side of the glass, standing close to each other, snickering away. Your hand tightened around the letter opener, the sharp edge slicing your skin open, blood trickling down your fist. The crimson felt cold but there was a strange fire coursing through your being.
How dare she? How dare she twirl her hair like a schoolgirl and put her hands on him? And what kind of fool did she take you to be? Did she think you couldn’t see the way she was stuck to your boyfriend like a leech or did she want you to see her making a move on your man? If it was the latter then she was most definitely successful – your eyes hadn’t left their huddled figures in the last ten minutes. At least not until red began to leak onto the papers strewn on the table. Groaning slightly, you quickly let the blade go and grabbed a tissue instead.
But you couldn’t let go of what was happening outside.
Pushing your chair back, you reached for your red satin gloves and slipped them on, covering your wound. It stung as the cloth grazed your skin but you knew it would feel better later, when you’ll run your hand through your boyfriend’s soft tresses as he fucks you into oblivion. He always made everything so much better.
In complete contrast to the professional approach you’ve always advised your employees to maintain, you opened the door of your cabin and walked over to the pair, hugging your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“Han.” You muttered, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck before glancing at the woman before you. She tried not to look at you, the same way the entire office was averting their eyes, choosing to look down at the floor instead. Afterall, no one wanted to see their boss romancing right in the middle of the workspace. You didn’t care what they thought, at least not anymore. All that mattered to you was what Jeonghan felt, so when he slowly pulled your hands away from him, you were a little hurt.
But in all fairness, Jeonghan was always like this. Always so wary of people around him, always so conscious, always so proper. If you were being honest, even you used to be the same until a few months ago. Until Jeonghan came into your life to be precise.
Before him life was different. Inheriting your father’s company at such a young age meant you had to prove you were worthy, you had to make sure you were taken seriously. That’s why you made it a point to enforce discipline at work – employees always had to be on time, tardiness was looked down upon, improper dressing was not allowed, discussing anything unrelated to work was not permitted and office romance was strictly forbidden. Again, all that was until Jeonghan made his way into your office one fine day, to interview for the position of your secretary.
You still remembered the moment he walked into your room, clutching his file against his chest, looking around with big eyes. Your childhood nanny turned caretaker introduced him, stating he was a smart guy who just finished his MBA and had a lot of potential. Apparently, a few months ago, he was recruited on the street and used to work as a part time model in your company – you couldn’t seem to recollect his face as he went on explaining how he wanted to do a more serious job now. Surely you would have known if the literal man of your dreams worked in the same space as you right? But then again, before your father died and you took over, you used to work in the writing column of this fashion magazine, the photography side of things was never in your radar. Yoon Jeonghan was never in your radar.
Making him your secretary was quite an easy decision – he had the qualifications, he already knew the company in and out and very soon, he knew you just the same too.
Well, almost.
He knew you took your coffee with foam art but he didn’t know it was because you liked that concentrated look on his face when he making it. He knew you always wore gloves as a fashion statement, but didn't know it was also to stop yourself from digging your nails into your skin every time you were stressed. He knew your caretaker and how important she was to you, but he didn’t know she was the closest thing you had to a mother, one whose presence you craved since you were a child. He knew inheriting this company had always been your dream but he didn’t know it was you who mixed the sleeping pills in your father’s milk that led to his overdose.
Albeit you only added enough to make sure he wouldn’t make it to the extremely important meeting the next day. The idea was that you would have gotten the chance to replace him as CEO temporarily and show the board your talent, but apparently your father was weak enough to die from that miniscule amount, allowing you to permanently take over his role. But this wasn’t your fault, was it? So there was nothing for Jeonghan to know about it.
Though there were a few things that he had discovered over time that a part of you wished he hadn’t - your anger, your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, your possessiveness…. He didn't know how bad it could get, but Jeonghan knew enough. That’s why the first thing he did when he pulled away from your grip was lead you to the private washroom in your cabin and fuck you mindless, thrusting into you hard and fast, letting your mark his neck carelessly.
Letting you mark him as yours.
“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, pulling you closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your pencil skirt went further up your torso as your boobs spilled out of your bra thanks to his sheer force as he showed no signs of slowing down. The granite of the sink counter felt unbearably cold against your bare ass but you didn’t care. Not when this position allowed him to ram into you while you ran your glove clad fingers in his hair, moaning right into his ear, and coaxing him further.
“Cum in me Hannie.” You purred, fingers digging into his arm. “Don't you want to fuck it back into me after work? I know how much you love your own sloppy seconds.”
“Don’t.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming harsher just at the thought of it. “We have an investor meeting after work today and I need to go pick up my niece after that. We can’t, baby.”
You rolled your eyes before pulling him into a heated kiss. This was what you loved and hated about this man. From day one, he was incredibly efficient, always so aware of your schedules, of which client calls to avoid, which pen to carry to sign official documents - he was the perfect secretary, always keeping an eye on everything. He was also a perfectly good man, always donning the sweetest smile, trying to be helpful, staying alert about your smallest needs and wants. As much as you loved how he looked after you, it was seeing him being nice to everyone else that bothered you.
Why did he have to lean over the desk of the girl clearly pretending to be stupid when he clarified her doubts? Why did he always agree to the dinners and the after work parties that various women in the company invited him to? Why did the lady in the canteen always bat her eyes at him and give him extra sandwiches? And was it your fault that one fine day nearly all these women decided to mass resign from your company? Yeah maybe you glared at them a bit too much and maybe you increased their workload to an unbearable amount but they chose to resign, that wasn’t on you right? Honestly, you should have stopped employing women after that - at least then you wouldn’t have hired her and seen her getting all handsy with your man.
“Stop thinking about her.”
Pulling you off the counter Jeonghan spun you around, letting you look at your fucked out face in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged at the edges and the remnants of his cum were still at the corner of your lips from when you let him fuck your mouth minutes ago. “Eyes and mind on me when I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing it roughly. “The only thought that should be in your pretty little head is me, so stop thinking about her.”
And this was yet another reason you loved this man. He knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell from the slightest change in your expression what exactly you were thinking. He could tell from the furrow of your eyebrow what exactly you needed. He could tell when you wanted to be handled softly, and gently made love to and when you needed to just be fucked like a ragdoll. Right now, you just needed him to fuck the inappropriate thoughts out of your head and that’s exactly what he was doing, snapping his hips against yours with a relentless pace. Jeonghan might be someone who looked sweet and soft and fragile but man was he capable of fucking like a beast. No wonder you fell in love with him.
The moment you realised you had fallen head over heels for him, the first thing you did was simply tell him. Though it took him a fleeting moment, he confessed that he had been in love with you for the longest time now. Brfore you could properly even kiss him, he pushed you against the office window 78 floors high and fucked you right against it, ignoring the hundreds of staff on the other side of the glass cabin who didn’t know what to do but immediately evacuate from the floor.
Since then, you had gotten the glass tinted and the two of you had christened almost every piece of furniture in your cabin in a similar fashion. You had Jeonghan’s things moved into your office from his cubicle and at any point you were not working, there was only one thing you were doing. Rather, one man you were doing. People would walk in on you more often than you liked to admit but stopping wasn’t an option and shame really wasn't a part of your character profile anymore. Only one thing mattered, then, now and always - Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan.
“Oh god I’m close fuck fuck fu…” You felt your mouth hang as the feeling began to tighten in you, your legs weakening. With a hand on your back, Jeonghan pushed you onto the marble of the counter, your breasts and cheek pressed onto it, his other hand on your neck, pinning you in place
“Me too baby.” He groaned, fucking himself in you harder, momentarily forgetting how tight his grip around your neck was. The oxygen to your brain being cut off only made you feel more insane, mumbling meaningless words as you felt yourself being split open by the man you love. It was only when he saw your eyes nearly roll back that he loosened his hold, pressing his fingers into the soft skin on your hips, thrusting faster and deeper, grazing that spot again and again until you finally snapped. With a loud unintelligible moan, your walls fluttered around him, clamping his length and coating it with slick in a way that immediately sent him over the edge as he came, spilling into you in spurts. With a few more thrusts he continued to ride out his high like he didn't want to leave your warmth but when you winced at the overstimulation, he grimaced and finally pulled out.
As the two of you caught your breaths, slowly straightening yourself, you turned, finding yourself towered by him. Sighing, he caught your lips with his in a sweet kiss, in complete contrast to the way he slipped his fingers into your hole, pushing his cum further into you, for later. When the two of you finally parted, he stepped back, pulling up and buttoning his pants with a small smirk on his face. You smiled back, adjusting the panties he wasn’t even bothered to remove in his urgency, as you rang for your caretaker. Like always she would help you with your clothes, hair, makeup and make you look presentable but what was the point? Anyways, in a few hour’s time, everyone would get off work and you’d have to attend that one last meeting of the day but since it was just an audio call, you could still ride Jeonghan on your office chair while you were at it. You knew how much he loved the sight of his dick covered in his own cum pumping in and out of you so another round today was a given.
Just as Jeonghan finished dressing himself, your caretaker walked in with a fresh set of clothes, trying not to meet either of your eyes as always. Normally, Jeonghan didn’t hang around till you were made decent to the public eye, he let you have your space to dress but today it was like he could tell you wanted him around. Though his neck was littered with the red of bruises and your lipstick, and he smelled like he was doused in the sweet scent of you, the image of that woman’s hand on him kept flashing in your mind. You knew he could tell you had slipped back into those thoughts as he sighed, shaking his head.
Putting his arm out he stopped the older woman, much to your surprise. “Let me.”
And she did, handing your clothes to him before bowing deeply and excusing herself from there.
Your eyes followed Jeonghan as he slowly undressed you of your wrinkled clothes, sweetly kissing you anywhere and everywhere he could. You loved feeling his mouth on you like this and you know he loved it too, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. Except when he slipped your gloves off; then his expression shifted to one of pained worry.
“What happened?” He looked at you confused. “Y/n what-“
“I’m fine.” You brushed him off, but his grip on your wrist was tight. “I wasn’t careful when I used the letter opener so it just….”
“Baby.” If he could tell you were lying, you didn’t know. He just kissed your palm softly, looking at you like he was hurting more than you were.
This man loved you. He loved you so much. He loved you just the way you were, he always made sure to let you know just how much he cared, yet you couldn’t help but continue to obsess over that memory.
Shaking your head, you kissed him back, long and hard.
You had to get it out of your mind. You had to do whatever it took to get it out of your mind.
This entire weekend you didn’t get to see Jeonghan thanks to his niece’s birthday.
As much as you shouldn’t be jealous of a little girl for getting so much of your boyfriend’s attention, you were. You didn’t like anyone getting between you and Jeonghan but knowing how much he loved her, you were willing to let it slide. You still wanted to see him first thing Monday morning so you made sure to reach work as early as you could and were waiting by the door for him.
Instead, to your surprise and disappointment, you were met with the familiar face of just the woman you didn’t want to see as she limped in, bandages scattered all over her body, her arm in a cast, hanging in a sling around her neck.
Running your eyes over it, a small triumphant smile creeped on your face – now let her try and touch your man.
As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, his eyes flickering between both the women before him. Reaching for your hand he pulled out the white glove you had donned today, running his finger along the fading wound. Seeing that it was much better, he interlaced his fingers with yours, and led you away to your cabin, without sparing his colleague a second look. You though, turned around just to catch sight of her dejected face.
As Jeonghan prepared your morning coffee, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking at the way he meticulously pressed the coffee powder. There was no fear or possessiveness in this hug, you were just happy. Jeonghan made you happy. He always made sure you were happy.
Since the day he began working in this company, your smile was what he craved for the most. No, not since he began working as your secretary - since he was recruited as a model, when he first laid his eyes on you.
It was during a press conference, announcing you had joined your father's company now that you had graduated from business school. You looked so prim and proper, like a sweet little girl from a high society, a perfect heiress with your glove clad hands clasped, resting on your lap modestly. Something about you was just so…. innocent, so easy to corrupt. It made Jeonghan fear for you - The corporate world was harsh and cutthroat. Sweet little things like you didn't belong here.
But over time Jeonghan learnt you weren't the little innocent girl you seemed like after all. He saw how ambitious you were, willing to even put down others to climb the ladder, willing to do anything. He saw your anger and the things it made you do. He saw your tantrums when you didn't get what you wanted. He saw everything because Jeonghan was always watching. Always.
He was watching you at work, he was watching you make your way home, he was watching what you did in your little penthouse, strutting around in your pretty night dresses…. Jeonghan was always watching. That's how he knew that you liked men with longer hair, and that you preferred them blonde and tall and lean. That's how he made sure to groom himself, to become the man of your dreams. Because he knew exactly what your dreams were - afterall, he always watched you sleep too.
That's also how he knew the number of sleeping pills you added in your father's milk weren't right. Yes you were ambitious and vile but you were short sighted. What you needed wasn't an opportunity to prove yourself but a permanent position to lead the company. That was your dream after all and Jeonghan would do whatever it took to make them come true. That's why he slipped in more pills into the glass - silly little you could surely not have thought so far.
The thing that Jeonghan didn't take into consideration though, was how inaccessible you would be to him once you became CEO. He didn’t get to see you as often and even if he did, you always had company. You were constantly monitored, always followed by security, always protected. He needed other ways of getting close to you, other ways he could keep an eye on you.
The first step was to get your previous secretary to resign. Honestly, that was probably the hardest step along the way - no matter what Jeonghan did, and mind you, he did everything possible, she did not step down from her position. So he did what he had to make sure she never returned, to make sure they didn't ever find her.
Although he might have been a little less successful on that front - from what he heard on the news yesterday, it turned out that after all this while, they finally had found her. He just hoped that the cops didn't dig around there any further - it wasn't like anything could trace back to him, he made sure of that, but he didn't know if they could digest everything they would find in his favorite dumping spot. Afterall, he had to make all those who truly knew him disappear - he couldn't take the risk of anyone letting you know what he was capable of. Of how far he was willing to go for you.
Your caretaker knew. She was the only one who knew but Jeonghan needed her. He needed someone you trusted to recommend him to you so he dealt with her in a way that was far easier - he just promised her he would pick up her granddaughter everyday after working hours and make sure she reached home safely as long as she kept her mouth shut and introduced him to you. The old lady was a sensible one - she did what she was told. Perhaps she knew that if she didn't, no one would question if her foot were to accidentally slip and send her plunging down 78 stories. No one would care.
But if anything similar were to happen to the colleague who was trying to make a move on him yesterday, Jeonghan knew you would be suspected. He couldn't have that happen, he couldn't have anything happen to you.
That's why he followed the woman around over the weekend, making note of where she went and what she did, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She told all the concerned employees asking her that she was too drunk and so she didn't realise she had walked into incoming traffic and Jeonghan didn’t see the need to correct her - she didn't walk on her own will, she was shoved.
But then again, all that happened was she broke an arm and a few ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, it was hardly anything. At least when compared to the wound on your hand because of her. All that mattered was that the sight of her finally seemed to have put a smile on your face, knowing that he wouldn't have those hands on him again. That was enough for him, your happiness was enough for him. For that he would do anything.
“Thank you for all that you do for me Han.” You muttered against his skin breathing in the combined scent of him and the coffee as he smiled to himself. But of course.
Topping off your drink with a tiny foam heart, he turned to hand it to you, receiving your sweet smile in return. It made him scoff inwardly. Look at you, pretending to be all innocent.
Like you too weren’t obsessively stalking her over the weekend.
Like it wasn’t your car that caused the accident that night.
Like you didn’t pay off the cops to let you go while your employee laid bleeding and unconscious on the road.
You always tried to hide so much behind that saccharine smile, but how could you? How could you when he was always watching? How could you when he would do anything to be by your side? How could you when he loved you more than anything Y/n?
More than anything and longer than always.
A/n - This is the first time I've dabbled in a genre like this so I'm nervous - kind comments and just thoughts in general are much appreciated! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's :)
#replying late but grateful ever the same#thank you guys#i appreciate all of you leaving your thoughts 🫂#tags
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SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.
Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)
"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons
WORDS: 4.8 K
NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕
❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other.
It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant.
But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?
For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids.
Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting.
But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after.
You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either.
Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for.
You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.
“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men.
Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”
Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly.
A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”
You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”
Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”
“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”
The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company.
His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”
His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it.
“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”
You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North.
Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“
“And what if I don‘t want to?“
“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“
You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”
He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.”
Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl.
Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more.
“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders.
But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks.
“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”
You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said.
“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”
“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”
You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”
“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”
Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move.
There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words.
And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room.
Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground.
Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace.
“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss.
He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips.
“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence.
“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”
His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you.
It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown.
“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.
You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”
Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately.
A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders.
“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet.
“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one.
Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing.
Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”
You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame.
“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”
Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him.
“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”
Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat.
A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs.
He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin.
Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady.
The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you.
As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact.
“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl.
He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?
He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss.
Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him.
Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time.
You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion.
While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination.
There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back.
Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”
His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”
You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood.
Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead.
He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you.
With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting.
The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.
“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame.
Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans.
“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.”
You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you.
Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now.
Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.
An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”
“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more.
The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him.
His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping.
“Then I just might,” he grunts in return.
Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”
It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice.
With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.
You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you.
The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face.
Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.
His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.
“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence.
A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”
His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.
The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”
#cregan stark smut#cregan x y/n#cregan smut#cregan x you#cregan x reader#cregan stark#cregan fanfiction#hotd cregan#cregan stark imagine#cregan stark fanfiction#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x y/n#hotd#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon smut#house of the dragon fic#hotd imagine#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd fic#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#cregan stark x female reader#targaryen reader#house stark#house targaryen
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JEALOUS - C.S
summary; while your boyfriend is streaming, one specific girl keeps gifting, and you begin to feel jealous of all the attention she's receiving, so chris comes to show you some attention too...
warnings; smut, unprotected sex (wrap the willy), tit sucking, dirty talk, teasing, praising, leaving hickeys, spanking, i think that's it..?
a/n; i have more ideas for fics, but please feel free to leave suggestions/recommendations on what fics u want to see and ill provide like a fairy godmother (unless it's some crazy shit like a shit kink, get out).
It was currently 1am, and my boyfriend and I were cuddled up in his bed watching our favourite series. I loved nights where I was able to just lay in bed with Chris and relax, especially with the chaotic lives we both live.
However, this didn't last long.
"Yo, wanna stream late night fort duos?" Matt questions, walking into the room. Chris looks down at my face, which is currently resting on his chest.
"Would you mind if I streamed with Matt for a few hours, baby?" He asks. There's a look of hope in his eyes, and who am I to deny him having fun with his brother.
"Of course not, you don't have to ask me," I reply, giving a small smile. I love cuddling with Chris, but I don't mind letting him play fortnite with his brother. He'll probably hop off in a few hours and come back to bed anyway.
As he slowly stands up from his bed, he gives me a small thanks before moving to his desk. I watched him attentively as he placed his headphones on his fluffy hair and turned on his monitor, which illuminated a soft blue light onto his face.
I could watch him all day and night. He was the most beautiful man I've ever seen. The way his hair was slightly damp, from coming out the shower not long ago, and the way his facial hair looks without a few days of shaving. God, he was perfect.
"Hellooo people," he says, adjusting his mic. I didn't even realise that he had started the stream already.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand so I could distract myself from all the screaming and shouting that was bound to happen.
~
It had been roughly an hour and a half since the stream first started, and Chris and Matt were still playing reload, and I was still scrolling on tiktok.
"HOLY SHIT, AVA WITH THE 100 BOMB!" Chris yells, making me turn my head to look at him. I loved how grateful Chris always is, whether people gift 1 or 100, Chris was always so thankful. I really did get lucky with him.
A few moments later Chris shrieks, "No fuckin' way, another 50 subs from Ava,". I turn to look at him again and he has the widest grin on his mouth.
"Everyone spam 'w Ava' in the chat," He says, focusing back in on his game.
I honestly don't know how some people are able to gift so much. I've seen the price of subs, and they are priceyyy. Yet, some people gift hundreds and hundreds.
"AVA WITH ANOTHER 50, HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE THE GOAT AVA," He yells again, shuffling in his chair.
What the fuck? This girl dropped a bag on subs in 5 minutes.
This continues for another half an hour, and to be honest, I'm getting sick of it. Don't get me wrong, I love that they're getting subs but it's the same fucking girl. Can she give it a rest? She's been spamming them with subs, and Chris is not letting it go unnoticed to anyone.
I look over to Chris, and he's smiling wider than ever. He must realise I'm staring at him, so he turns to look at me back.
As soon as we make eye contact, I shuffle on the bed and turn my back to him. From the corner of my eye, I can see his smile fade, and he turns back to his game.
I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I'm not upset about the subs. Is it jealousy? Am I feeling jealous of all the attention Chris is giving this random girl? I guess I am. It's hard not to when he left cuddling you to praise some random girl on the internet.
"Matt, I'm lowkey getting tired. After this round, I'm gonna hop off," Chris says, and through my peripheral vision, I can see him look at me.
He's lying. He's not tired at all, it's only 3am. He can sense something is wrong with me, and that's why he's hopping off the game.
But, as he said, he finished up the round and ended stream.
"Babe, what's wrong?" He asks, standing up from the chair and making his way over to me on the bed. I pretend not to hear him and shuffle slightly further away from him. He notices my actions and repeats his question.
"Why are you in a mood? Is it cause I streamed with Matt?" He continues to ask questions, but I continue to ignore him. I don't know why I'm doing this. Maybe I just want him to pay attention to me, too.
He realises the game I'm playing and decides to change the rules.
He leans down and begins to place soft kisses on my neck. I'm fighting to not close my eyes and keep looking at my screen, but the feeling is consuming me, and I let my eyes flutter close.
"Why are you ignoring me, baby? What can I do to hear your pretty voice, hm?" He says between kisses. Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing.
He then grabs my phone out of my hand and throws it somewhere on the bed. He forcefully turns me to lay on my back and places himself between my legs, bringing his face up to mine.
"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do you want to keep playing the silent game?" He challenges. I'm looking into his dark and tired eyes, enough to get lost in them.
"It's not fair," I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear.
"What's not fair, my love?" He asks, rewarding me with another kiss on my neck for answering him.
"All the attention you were showing that stupid girl," I say. My panties are already soaked by the few simple kisses that he had given me. If he continues like this, I'll have to wring out my thong.
A smirk subtly grows on his lips, and he dips his head back down to my neck for another reward. "Are you jealous, baby?" He whispers against my skin.
Fuck. He was driving me insane.
"Yeah, so what?" I ask, challenging him back. I then feel his lips attach to my neck. I gasp softly when he begins to lightly suck on my sweet spot.
"I'm so sorry baby, let me show you the attention you deserve," he says, moving back up to my face. His soft lips crash into mine, and his hands explore my body. My body feels like it's on fire, and I'm craving him more than ever.
"Chris, please," I beg. I'm begging him for something more, I need more.
"I know, baby," he coos. He then brings his hands to the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head when he sees my nod of approval. He instantly wraps his warm mouth around my nipple and I shudder at the new sensation. He lifts his hand to my other nipple and begins to roll it between his fingertips.
By now, soft moans are escaping my mouth from the stimulation, but I'm still hungry for more. I buck my hips at him to indicate what I really want. He notices my desperate actions and separates himself from my chest.
He hooks his fingers over the band of my sweatpants and yanks them down, revealing my soaked thong.
"Fuck, look at you," He rasps, admiring the patch of wetness that seeped through my underwear. I whine at his comment, I need him so bad. He then peels his own clothes off, leaving himself in just his boxers.
As he pulls his last item of clothing off, his swollen cock sprung out. I sigh at the sight in front of me. I'll never get over this view.
"Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees," he says stroking his cock a few times and rubbing his pre-cum all over his head.
I swiftly move into the position he ordered, and I feel his hand on my lowerback, pushing me into a deeper arch. At this point, my ass is completely in the air, and I'm ready for him to use me.
I feel him pull my thong to the side, letting the cold air in the room hit my warm and wet pussy. With no hesitation, he slides his cock into me with ease, filling me up. We both moan at the contact.
He instantly starts ramming into me, showing no mercy whatsoever. My arms give out immediately, and my face is smushed into a pillow.
"Isn't this what you wanted? My attention," He grunts out from behind me, placing a firm slap on my right ass cheek. I let out a strangled moan, allowing myself to grip the bedsheets.
"Answer you attention whore," he repeats, placing another slap on my ass.
"Y-yes, fuck!" I yelp. He continues to ruthlessly fuck my pussy and I feel the heat in my lower stomach build. I was coming close to finishing. Between the dirty talk, the spanks, and of course the fucking, I wasn't going to last long at all.
"C-chris m'gonna...f-finish," I stutter out. My knuckles are turning white from how intensely I'm gripping the sheets.
"Yeah? Come on my cock like the good girl you are," he groans, placing another spank on my cheek. I bet that by now, my ass is glowing red.
His words push me over the edge, and I violently shake beneath him, allowing a flow of curse words to leave my mouth as he helps me ride out my high and bring himself to his own.
"Fuck. Your such a jealous whore and look how I have you, you think I'm fuckin' other girls like this? Hm?" He asks, pounding into me even harder. I'm starting to become oversensitive, but I know he's about to come any second.
I feel his hands grip my hips hard enough to leave bruises and his warm cum coats my insides. His movements begin to slow, and I let out a satisfied sigh. I feel him pull his limp cock out of my full pussy and he moves to lay beside me.
I crumble next to him and place my head on his chest. Our sweaty bodies are still for a moment as we attempt to catch our breath after the best cardio session ever.
"Jealousy cured?" He smiles, looking down at me.
"Definitely. I'm sorry for being a bitch earlier," I apoligise, giving a sincere smile. Before he can reply, his phone buzzes.
"Who the fuck is texting at almost 4am?" He questions, as he unlocks his phone. He opens his texts and sees a message from Matt:
'Tired my ass, u guys are disgusting'
He pans his phone over to me, and we both die from laughter. The rest of the night is spent cuddling and watching tv together, just the way I love it.
a/n; this is long as shitttt. anywhoo, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed another one of my 4am creations. love youu <33.
#★°.*sturnioloszn*.°★#christopher owen sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut
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Evergreen | Chapter One: Denial
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Tommy encourages Joel to join bereavement group counseling, where he meets you. You connect over a similar loss and the common thread of loneliness, leading to something unexpected for you both.
Chapter Warnings: grief, angst, mentions of OC deaths, mild references to: suicide, self harm, drug use (none by reader or Joel), language, panic/anxiety attack (Joel), Joel POV
WC: 8.8K
A/N: I've been working on this goddamn series since May. Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it but I am committing to a posting schedule now that it is almost complete and I appreciate you all for being so patient. Hope you enjoy tons of fluff and softness and angst.
Series Masterlist
Joel's hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared blankly at the faded brick building connected to the small, run down parking lot. He watched as the clock ticked down to six in the evening, and with each passing minute a new car parked nearby or someone walked through the double doors. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he was surprised to see people of all ages streaming inside.
Then he saw a young woman with two children, one in each hand, neither of which could have been over seven years old, walk inside with watery eyes and he dropped his gaze to his lap in shame.
Mia had been gone for nearly ten years. He had no business being there. His grief wasn't fresh. Over the years, he's learned to cope with it, to live alongside it. The people who were there that night needed the support.
Joel didn't need support. He was just lonely.
He reached for his key, still dangling in the ignition, when his phone rang. With a sigh, he patted down the front of his jeans until he located his phone, then lifted his hips off the worn seat with a grunt so he could fish it out.
"Yeah?"
"You better not be thinkin' 'bout leavin'."
Joel swiveled around in alarm, searching the parking lot for his brother's truck, but all he saw were the last few stragglers hurriedly walking up to the front doors, the anguish practically weighing them down as they moved.
"You watchin' me now?"
Tommy chuckled on the other end.
"Nah, I'm at home. I just know you."
Joel rolled his eyes as the clock ticked to 6:01 on the dash.
"This is stupid, Tommy."
"It ain't stupid. It's been almost ten years and you've never looked twice at another woman. You can tell me you've moved on or that you're fine, but I'm not buying your bullshit," Tommy said sternly on the other end. "I don't think you ever gave yourself a chance to process what happened and it's important you do that. For your mental health and all that."
"Maria tell you to say that?" Joel scoffed, but still unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.
"Maybe. Don't matter who said it, it's true."
"Fine. I'm walkin' in now, I'll call you later," Joel said, then hung up without waiting for a reply.
The building wasn't very big. From the lobby, Joel could hear a male's voice making what sounded like brief introductions as he strolled quickly down the hall. He rested his hand on the push bar and took a deep breath. Right as he was about to enter, he heard someone else's light footsteps jogging up behind him. He turned around as you approached, a little breathless and with a guilty smile.
"Oh, good, I'm not the only one who's late," you said, nodding towards the door.
"Uh, yeah," Joel said, clearing his throat softly, "we can share the heat," he joked, opening the door and stepping aside so you could walk through first. You shot him a grateful look and mouthed thank you before entering the room.
The group all turned their heads at the disruption, as expected, but the counselor waved them in with a warm smile.
"Welcome! Have a seat, we were just getting started."
Joel found the first empty chair he could, in the very last row closest to the door. You glanced around the room before sliding into the same row as him, just a few seats down.
"As I was saying, welcome to the grief and loss support group. I'm Dr. Harris, but please feel free to call me Ryan."
Ryan was young. Definitely under forty. Something about that irked Joel. He imagined this man going to school to learn how to be caring, how to listen and say all the right words at the right time so he could make a decent paycheck and call himself doctor while he went home to his wife and picket fence and his patients went home with a gaping hole in their hearts.
"There is no wrong way to grieve," Ryan was saying from the podium with a practiced look of solemnity. "All of you are here for different reasons. And while you may look around here and think nobody else could possibly understand what you are feeling, I am here to tell you that you are simply wrong." Ryan took a moment to let his words settle over the group before continuing. "We have all lost somebody in our lives. That is the common thread that weaves us all together. And I'm here to tell you to use it." Ryan clenched his fists for emphasis and Joel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Lean on each other. Listen to one another. This is a safe space. Nobody will judge you here, no matter what you may think, everybody in this room is here for the same reason."
After what felt like an eternity, Ryan invited the people in the room to approach the podium to speak, no longer than ten minutes, he had said, reminding everyone that their time was limited and they always could speak again at the next meeting.
One by one, people trickled up to the front of the room. First it was an elderly woman who explained with tears in her eyes that her husband of forty years passed away a month ago.
"It sounds silly," she sniffled, "but it feels like I'm... untethered. Like I lost my connection to this world when he left and I'm scared I might just... float away."
Next was a man around Joel's age who visibly struggled to hold back his tears about his late sister.
"I just keep reminding myself I didn't cause it, I can't control it, can't undo it. I'm really mad at myself for not paying attention to the warning signs. She was struggling, y'know?" His glassy eyes addressed the group briefly before he cast his gaze back down. "The best thing I can do is try to rebuild. Don't let the anguish fester. Don't let it consume me. Because she wouldn't want that."
After that, a girl no older than twenty, arms and neck covered in tattoos walked to the front. "She was my best friend since we were eight. And I know it's my fault, I know it is," she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I gave her her first hit. I could see she was falling too deep into it and I didn't try to help her, I was too focused on my own shit and not seeing what was right in front of me. To this day, I can't look her mom in the eye-" the girl hung her head and took a moment to gather herself. Chairs squeaked as the group patiently waited for her to continue. "But I'm clean and sober almost six months now," she said with a watery smile. A small round of applause broke out amongst the group and she nodded her thanks. "I'm thinking about going to school for social work. Maybe I can honor her memory in some way."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw you cross and uncross your legs nervously but made no move to walk to the front.
Same as him.
When the clock on the wall ticked closer to seven, Ryan addressed the group one final time.
"I'll stick around in case anybody wants to have a talk after group. Just a reminder that I'm only here once a week, but my esteemed colleague, Grace, runs another group on Tuesdays, so please feel free to stop by one or both. I also left some cards in the back next to the coffee. My information is on there if you would like a one on one appointment and on the back is the crisis hotline. Please take one, you never know when you may need it."
The room collectively seemed to stand, a murmur rippling through the group as people began to softly speak again, reaching out to neighbors, either introducing themselves or catching up from the last session. Joel scratched at his chin and looked around the room as people continued to filter around. Some paired off to grab coffee, some went to talk to Ryan, but Joel just stood there. All alone.
He took a deep breath and headed for the back, then lingered at the small stack of business cards Ryan had mentioned. He picked one up and flipped it over, studying it, when he heard a soft voice behind him.
"Excuse me," you said, and he swiveled around in surprise.
"Oh, sorry," he replied, stepping to the side so you could reach the coffee. He pretended to look at the card but watched as you filled up a cup. He waited for you to add cream or sugar but you didn't. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip before recoiling at the heat and doing it again.
"That, uh, any good?"
Your eyes locked onto his and you shrugged. "'Bout what you'd expect."
He smiled and looked around the room, fidgeting with the edge of the card before sliding it into his pocket. "This your first session, too?"
You shook your head and stepped aside, a little closer to him, so others could get to the coffee. "I've been coming here almost two months."
That surprised Joel. Based on the way the rest of the group seemed familiar with each other, he had suspected the two of you were both new.
"Two months? Wow," Joel said, "how's it workin' out for you, if you don't mind my askin'?"
You sighed and gave him a little smile.
"Some days are better than others. But I figure it doesn't hurt, so..." you trailed off and crossed your arms, your fingertips tapping against the paper cup. "My mom begged me to come, so I did. I think it makes her believe she's helping in some way by pushing it and I grew tired of feeling like an emotional burden."
Joel frowned. "I'm sure that ain't true. No parent thinks their kid is an emotional burden."
You chuckled and drained the rest of your cup. "You'd be surprised." You tossed the cup into the trash before giving him a brighter smile. Although expressing your emotions was the entire reason you were there, you still felt uncomfortable doing it. "So this was your first time? What did you think?"
"Jury's still out," Joel replied honestly. "Promised my brother I would give it a try, same as you. My daughter just went off to college last month and I think he and his wife are worried 'bout me bein' all alone for the first time in, well... forever, I suppose." His lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Feels kinda like I don't belong here. My wife passed almost ten years ago. I've learned to live with it by now. It ain't as raw as all that-" he gestured up to the podium, referencing all the individuals who poured their hearts out for the past hour. Then he realized he was rambling and chuckled. "Sorry. Can't seem to shut up." He looked at you sheepishly and you smiled back.
"That's good. That's what you're supposed to do here," you assured him, then took a deep breath. "I lost my fiancé a year ago, so I can relate... kind of."
"I'm sorry," he said, furrowing his brow and examining your face. "You're so young, you shouldn't know what that feels like at your age."
"Not that young. I'm thirty-one," you joked. He laughed and rubbed his chin.
"Well I got twenty years on you, seems pretty young to me."
"You're fifty-one?" you asked, and he nodded. "You look good, I wouldn't have guessed a day over..." you trailed off as you studied his face and he grinned.
"Go ahead, be honest."
"Forty-three," you decided, and Joel laughed. When was the last time he felt this lighthearted?
"Well that's the nicest thing I've heard all week," he replied. The room began to thin out and you shifted your weight.
"Well, I guess I should get going," you told him, almost sounding regretful. Then you pinched your eyebrows together. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Joel," he said, sticking an arm out to shake your hand. You gave him a warm smile before telling him your name, your hand getting dwarfed by his thick, rough fingers.
"Will I see you next week, Joel?"
"Yeah," he replied, walking out with you and holding open the door. "I'll give it another chance."
"Good. I mean, you know, I'm glad you're giving it another chance," you found yourself inexplicably stumbling over your words and before your face began to heat up you veered off towards your car with a quick wave.
Joel's eyes trailed after you for a minute before he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his lower lip, lost in thought while he stared straight ahead at the emptying parking lot. Then you drove by in a higher end white SUV and he watched as you took a right turn out of the lot and disappeared down the road. He sighed and started his truck, realizing he was one of the last cars in the lot, and decided to stop at a fast food drive thru on the way home.
"Uncle Tommy told me you went to a grief support group the other day, how did it go?" Sarah asked him over FaceTime. He pushed the lever on his recliner and leaned back into the chair with a grunt.
"S'alright," he mumbled.
"Did you share anything?"
"No."
"Well, why not?"
"'Cause, baby girl, these people just lost someone close to 'em. I can't get up there and talk 'bout your mama, it's been so long-"
"That doesn't matter," she said, interrupting him. He could hear other kids in the background laughing but she remained focused on her screen. "I don't think you've ever really processed Mom's death and it's important to me that you try. I worry about you, old man," she teased, and Joel grinned.
"No need to worry 'bout me, I'm stayin' busy."
"Yeah, doing what? And don't tell me you're eating frozen meals and watching baseball because it'll break my heart."
Joel's eyes drifted to the empty plastic tray on the coffee table.
"No," he said gruffly. "Ain't baseball season. I'm watchin' basketball."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Dad," she whined, "what about your friends? The guys from work?"
He didn't have the heart to tell her they were busy with their families, with their wives, so he lied.
"Yeah, I'm gonna get together with Jimmy later this week. Gonna shoot some pool."
"That sounds great!" Sarah exclaimed, her face instantly brightening. Her eyes snapped up to someone behind her phone and she grinned, holding up one finger, then looked back at him. "Listen, Dad, I gotta run. I promised a few friends I would go to the football game with them."
"Oh, so you'll watch football with your friends and not me?" he teased, and she giggled. "Alright then, text me when you get back home safe."
"I will. I love you."
No matter how many times he heard it, those words always warmed his heart.
"Love you too, baby girl."
The call ended and he set his phone down with a sigh. Sarah was right. He couldn't waste away in his house all alone, waiting for her to come home to visit or for Tommy and Maria to come by for dinner. He needed to get a hobby. He glanced outside then looked at the time before turning off the television and pushing himself out of his recliner with a groan. He shuffled down the hall to his bedroom to change out of his old sweatpants and ratty tshirt, then snatched his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out to the driveway.
He drove aimlessly through town, his window down with his arm hanging out, soaking up the sun's rays. Kids were playing on the sidewalks and people were walking their dogs or pushing strollers. Everyone just seemed so... happy. Content.
Maybe he should get a dog.
Maybe he should start with a fish, first.
He jumped on the highway and cruised with one hand on the steering wheel. Hank Williams crooned from the radio and Joel took a deep, relaxing breath. He was coming up on the exit for the mall. Sarah loved dragging him to the mall. A smile played on his lips and he figured why not.
He veered off the highway and slowed when he approached the red light, the mall parking lot straight ahead. It didn't look terribly busy. With the weather as nice as it was, he imagined most people would be spending their time outside.
Joel found a good spot right out front. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked inside through the Macy's. A blast of freezing cold air conditioning hit him like a ton of bricks, cooling the sweat that was collecting on the back of his neck. He managed to make his way through the maze of the department store and entered the mall itself. There were a few groups of girls around Sarah's age giggling and carrying shopping bags and the random couple here or there walking into William Sonoma or Brookstone.
When he passed by the food court, he saw a few solitary older men sipping coffee and reading the paper or people watching. Joel huffed under his breath, wondering who on earth would come to the mall just to read a paper until he realized he was no better.
Was he going to become just like them one day? Would he come to the mall to nurse a coffee just so he wouldn't feel so alone? The thought had his throat closing up.
He paused and leaned against a railing overlooking the bottom floor of the mall, pretending to be looking for someone when in reality he was struggling to breathe. His heart was fluttering too fast in his chest and his vision was narrowing.
"Shit," he whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on taking deep breaths. It was like reality crashed down around him all at once: Sarah was moved out of the house. Tommy was happily married. And Joel was going to die all alone.
He gasped and blinked, trying to clear his head and mentally talk himself down, but it was no use. He leaned forward a bit to rest his forehead on the cool, stainless steel railing but his knees began to buckle. Just when he thought he would need to stop someone and beg them to call an ambulance, he heard someone say his name, temporarily snapping him out of his daze.
"Are you okay?" you asked, the smile slipping from your face when you noticed how flush he looked. He could only manage to shake his head. Without hesitating, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand, then glanced around. Spotting an empty bench, you led him over and helped him sit. You rubbed your palm over his upper back soothingly and sat next to him, reminding him to breathe deeply until his vision cleared and he felt his strength return.
"Christ," he mumbled. He sat up and leaned back so the back of his head rested on the bench and stretched his long legs out. "Thank you," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
"No problem," you said, "is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Or, no. I don't know," he sighed, dropping his hand from his face. "I think it just hit me all at once."
You slid over on the bench to give him more room. "What hit you all at once?"
"That my little girl is growin' up and -" he stopped himself, the words and I'm all alone getting trapped in his throat. "And I just miss her, is all."
You slowly nodded and glanced around the mall. "What does she like?"
He smiled. "Clothes. Music. Makeup. Books."
"What kind of books?"
"The fantasy kind. Y'know, like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter."
A huge grin spread across your face. "Follow me, I have an idea," you said, standing up and looking down at him before you realized you might have overstepped. "I mean, unless you're-"
"No, let's go," he replied, standing up and stretching out an arm for you to lead the way. He fell in step next to you as you led him down towards the other end of the mall and after a few minutes, he realized where you were leading him.
"The bookstore?"
"Yep," you said cheerily, shooting him a playful grin. "Trust me."
And he did.
"There's some really incredible series out there right now. Why don't we pick one out, you can read it and share it with her so you guys have something to do together from a distance? Do you know if she's read The Word of the Heir? That's by an incredibly talented author who actually got the idea when she was only seven years old," you told him excitedly, leading him deep into the bookstore, dodging tables and displays until you made it to the fantasy section. Joel slowed down and looked around, his panic attack slipping further and further from his mind.
"Uh, I ain't sure," he replied as you held up the book. You tucked it under your arm and began to look again.
"How about Empire of Kings? I haven't read that one but the author is relatively new and I've heard he's an extremely talented storyteller."
Joel shrugged, again unsure what Sarah may or may not have read. All of the titles sounded so foreign to him until his eyes landed on the spine of a thick, hardcover book.
"Oh, this one sounds familiar," he said, plucking it from the shelf. "The Crimson Stone. I think she wanted to read this but I don't think she ever finished it. It's a series-"
"Yeah, I know that one," you told him quietly. He glanced down at the book again and read the author's name.
"Daniel Davis, ain't this the guy who died in that bad wreck downtown?" Joel mumbled as he flipped the book over in his hands to read the back. You nodded. "Maybe I'll get this one."
"Don't waste your money, I can give it to you for free," you said, gently taking it from his hands. You ran your palm distractedly over the cover before flipping it open and looking at the tiny black and white photo of the author on the inside jacket. "This was my fiancé," you added, your voice thick. Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Shit," he mumbled. "I-I'm sorry, his name just sounded familiar, I remember it from the paper..." he trailed off, floundering for what to say to comfort you. Why couldn't he fucking think?
"It's okay," you told him, waving him off, but the guilt still laid heavy in his chest. "There's no way you would have known." You slowly closed the book, giving the picture one more glance, and handed it back to him. "But really, if you want to read them I have tons of copies just sitting around. He had a few other books outside of this series, as well, if you guys wanted them."
Joel's eyebrows knit together. "I don't wanna take your books. They gotta have sentimental value or somethin'."
"No, seriously, I have boxes of them just sitting there. He was in the middle of signing copies for readings he was supposed to do before-" you stopped yourself and cleared your throat. "Anyway. I can bring them to group next week or you can come by the house and look through them yourself if you like."
Joel nodded and nervously chewed the inside of his cheek. "Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"
You looked up at him then, all wide eyed and filled with so much sadness that it made his chest ache. No one so young and pretty should have to go through so much pain. Your eyes drifted over his face for a moment, quietly studying him before responding. "Yeah. I kind of do."
Joel looked over his shoulder and spotted the café across from the bookstore. "You wanna get a coffee and find a quiet bench or somethin'?"
"That sounds nice," you replied, so he put the books back on the shelf and walked out into the mall. He spotted a bench near an empty storefront and he told you to go have a seat with the promise of bringing you back something to drink. There wasn't a line at the counter. He couldn't imagine many people wanted coffee that late in the day, so it only took a few minutes before the barista slid the two cups of black coffee across the counter and he met you back at the bench.
"Black, right?"
You smiled and gingerly took the cup. "Yeah, how did you know?"
"From group the other day," he replied, then sat down with a grunt. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each of you letting your coffees cool before you spoke.
"I usually don't talk about it. Every week I tell myself I'm gonna go up to that podium and pour my heart out and every week I chicken out."
Joel didn't say a word. He learned early on with Sarah when she was upset, she just wanted someone to listen to her. So that's exactly what he did. He sipped his coffee and just listened. And before you even realized it, you were telling him everything.
You began by telling him Daniel was from Austin but you met in Portland, where you grew up. For a while, the two of you tried doing a long-distance relationship, but once you were finished with school you took him up on the offer to move in with him in Texas. Shortly thereafter, he proposed and you had spent the last year of his life planning your dream wedding. The night of the accident, you had been touring a venue an hour outside the city. It was dark when you finished up and drove back home.
Daniel didn't do anything wrong. You insisted Joel knew that first.
A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran a light, completely crushing the driver's side and killing Daniel instantly. Somehow, you had only come out of the accident with a small concussion and a badly bruised chest from the seatbelt.
"Jesus," Joel muttered when you exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, darlin'. That's some fucked up shit." His eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat. "Shit, sorry for cursin'... twice." He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and a slow smile spread across your face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you burst out laughing.
"Thank you," you said in between giggles. He grinned, confused but happy you were laughing and not crying. "I needed that. And you're right, it was some fucked up shit."
Joel chuckled and took a sip from his coffee. He heard his phone ring so he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before silencing the call and putting his phone away.
"You can take it," you said, wiping a stray tear from your eye and jutting your chin towards his phone.
"Just my brother. I'll call him back later."
"Ah, the infamous brother that made you go to group?"
"The very same."
"Younger or older?"
"Younger, but the way he bosses me 'round you'd never know it," Joel said with a grin.
"He's probably just looking out for you."
"He knows I'm feelin' especially lonely without Sarah. Sarah's my daughter, by the way," he said, pulling his phone out and showing you his lock screen: it was a selfie of him and Sarah on the beach, Joel looked red as a lobster and Sarah's hair looked tangled from the wind but there was no denying the happiness in both their eyes.
"She's beautiful," you said warmly. He smiled and put his phone away.
"Got that from her mama."
"I don't know, I see a little bit of you in her smile," you teased, bumping up against his shoulder playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
"What I'm tryin' to say is, I can relate a bit to what you're goin' through. Y'know, losin' a partner and feelin' like you got no one left," he said. You took a deep breath.
"Yeah, sounds like you do."
Joel nervously picked at his jeans, trying to figure out the right way to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an old creep, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke first.
"Maybe we can hang out together and keep each other company?" you offered. He turned his head and grinned.
"I was 'bout to suggest the same thing."
"Really?" you asked, looking as relieved as he felt. He nodded.
"Sounds like we both could use a friend."
Something in your expression shifted. It was too quick. He couldn't pinpoint it but whatever it was disappeared, leaving behind a genuine smile.
"I would really like that, Joel."
"What the hell? You couldn't call me back yesterday?" Tommy scolded when he marched into the small, messy office the following morning. Joel glanced up from behind his desk; papers, a calculator and a pencil scattered about in front of him. He took his reading glasses off with a sigh, abandoning his work. He hated doing the administrative part of his job. He always preferred to be on site or meeting with clients.
"I was busy."
"Busy?" Tommy repeated before collapsing in the worn out chair across from him.
"Yeah, busy. I was... with a friend," Joel mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant but Tommy's ears perked up.
"A friend? Who?"
Joel shrugged. "Someone I met at that group you made me go to."
Tommy's eyes lit up. "Hey, that's great. See? I knew it'd be good for you. What's his name?"
Joel pursed his lips before softly saying your name and Tommy raised an eyebrow.
"A woman? That's even better, Joel."
"It ain't like that-"
"'Course not," Tommy said, "I'm just sayin' it's a step in the right direction."
"She's too young," Joel said defensively, giving Tommy pause.
"Okay..."
"We're just friends. She ain't from 'round here, ain't got anyone in Texas."
Tommy frowned as he watched Joel shift uncomfortably in his chair, wondering what made his brother get so sensitive, so he chose to tread lightly.
"So you're keepin' each other company. That's nice."
"Yeah," Joel said, standing up with a grunt and rubbing his lower back before he snatched his coat from the wall. "Ready to go?"
"Sure," Tommy said, standing to follow Joel out of the office. While he locked the door behind him, Tommy couldn't help but ask, "How young is too young?"
"Thirty-one," Joel replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket.
Tommy shrugged, falling in step next to his brother as they walked towards the parking lot. "Sounds like an adult to me," he muttered, but Joel chose to ignore it. "When are you seein' her again?"
"End of the week," Joel replied before climbing into the truck.
"Friday?"
"Yeah, after work. We were gonna order some dinner and look through some books she's tryin' to get rid of."
The corner of Tommy's mouth twitched. "So, like a date?"
"It ain't a date," Joel said firmly, his jaw set as he pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive in the direction of the first worksite. "She's mourin' the loss of her husband, it's not a date."
"Husband?" Tommy repeated, then Joel shook his head, growing flustered.
"Fiancé. Not husband."
"When did he pass?"
Joel thought back to what you told him the night you first met. "A year ago."
Tommy hummed and looked out the window, tapping his fingers against the car door in rhythm with the beat from the radio. Joel side eyed him while they sat in silence for a few minutes before he rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice.
"A year's a long time, is all."
"She's in grief therapy, Tommy. She's in pain and tryin' to come to terms with it. Quit makin' it sound like somethin' it ain't."
"Just 'cause she's in grief therapy don't mean she ain't ready to move on-"
"Goddamnit, this is the last time I tell you anythin'," Joel grumbled as he made a left hand turn. Tommy hid a smile behind his hand and looked out the window.
"Alright, no need to get all defensive on me now."
Joel opened his mouth to argue but quickly snapped it shut. The more he pushed back just gave Tommy more ammunition. Besides, he knew the truth. You were looking for a friend, someone who could relate to what you were going through. There was absolutely no way you were interested in a man twenty years older than you. The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh. You were young and beautiful and charming and you had your whole life ahead of you.
No, surely Tommy was wrong.
When Joel pulled up to your house, his eight year old truck the noisiest thing on the whole block, he let out a low whistle and threw it into park, deciding at the last second to keep his car on the street for fear of leaving an oil stain or something on your pristine concrete driveway. He sat in his truck for a moment, taking in the monumental Victorian house before him. He recognized it from his youth, but back then the siding was chipped and the windows were foggy, in desperate need of replacing. He always admired houses like yours and part of his heart broke whenever he saw one fall into such a state of disrepair that it was beyond saving, but not yours. No, at some point in the past ten years, the house was upgraded but managed to maintain the original charm.
There was fresh siding and new windows installed, the insides framed in what looked like delicate lace curtains, complimenting the style of the house. The roof looked like it had been replaced and the front door looked new, but the original architecture remained. He could easily tell whoever bought the house took great care with it, and the contractor in him breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't fall into the wrong hands, or god forbid, a flipper.
When he walked up your driveway towards the small stone path that led to your front door, he slowed to look at the garden that flourished in front of the wraparound porch. It was a beautiful mix of wildflowers and hedges, and while wildflowers had a tendency to look messy and unkept, you somehow managed to make it look neat and well put together. Fat, fuzzy bumblebees bounced drunkenly from flower to flower and as he climbed the wooden steps, a hummingbird buzzed past his ear, spooked by his presence.
He pressed the button to your doorbell, noting you chose not to install one of those camera doorbells and for some reason, that bothered him. Normally he wasn't a huge fan of technology, but you were all alone in this big house. You needed to be safe, to be careful. Your house was in a nice neighborhood, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.
The door swung open and you greeted him barefoot with a warm smile before stepping aside to let him in. You were wearing a loose tshirt that hung off one shoulder and he chastised himself when his eyes traveled down your tight fitting jeans to your ass as he followed you into your home.
He shrugged his reaction off to just typical male instinct and forced his focus onto the lovely foyer surrounding him as he slid off his boots. Polished cherry wainscoting lined the walls and his eyes widened when he noticed the small tiles in the shape of little octagons below his feet.
"Is this original?" he asked you in disbelief as he pointed to the ground. Your gaze followed his finger and you nodded.
"We tried to keep everything original, if we could," you explained.
"Wow," he breathed as he stepped forward into the hallway, his eyes unable to keep up with how fast his brain was operating. His gaze slid over the original hardwood floors of the hallway, fresh wallpaper, and wide, polished staircase with a plush carpet installed in the center of the steps. Much to his delight, you chose to furnish the house to match the style, as well. Antique fixtures hung from the ceiling and a real wood table was pushed against the wall. A small lamp sat on top with a stained glass Tiffany shade, and next to it was a pile of mail and a framed photograph he tried not to examine too closely out of respect.
"This way," you said over your shoulder, and he followed you blindly deeper into the house. You pushed open a swinging door that led into your kitchen, and for the first time since arriving, his nose was the first of his senses to respond instead of his eyes.
It smelled absolutely heavenly. He had no idea what you were cooking but his mouth instantly watered at the smell of garlic and salt and some kind of meat.
He swallowed and hoped his stomach wouldn't growl and embarrass him.
"Thought we were gonna order somethin'?" he asked as he watched you hurry over to the stove to stir something.
"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I felt like cooking," you replied without looking. He glanced around the room, noticing you chose to update the counters and cabinets to look more modern, but kept the original flooring.
"Mind? Are you kiddin' me? Haven't had anythin' decent to eat since Sarah left for college."
Memories of fast food drive thrus and frozen dinners flashed before his eyes as he watched you turn off the burners on the stove. You opened a cupboard and stretched on your tiptoes to reach a bowl, the hem of your shirt riding up ever so slightly and revealing a small sliver of skin on your back and suddenly, his mouth was watering for an entirely different reason.
Stop it.
"Need some help?" he offered, and you fell back onto the flats of your feet, shooting him a nod and smile. He didn't mean to, but he reached up from behind you for the serving bowl, his front brushing gently against your back, and your shoulders tensed. Shit.
"Sorry, here ya go," he said, handing you the bowl and immediately giving you some space, not catching the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.
"Thank you," you murmured shyly. He watched you spoon vegetables into the bowl for a moment, grabbing random jars of seasoning and sprinkling them on top before stirring it up, and he finally remembered his manners.
"Can I help?"
"No, no, I got it," you insisted, waving him toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. "Go sit down, I'll be right out."
He wandered over to the propped open door and entered your dining room. Pausing for a moment, he admired the chandelier above the table that looked old but the brass had been polished and the crystals cleaned. The drop ceiling was even remarkable: squares of textured patterns that repeated across the whole room, adding a whole other layer of elegance to the already impressive first floor. His eyes drifted to the dark wood table, where two spots were already set across from each other. He pulled out a chair and sat down, shifting his weight a bit and noting the chairs must have been recently reupholstered based on how firm the cushion was underneath him. You breezed in after him, hardly giving him enough time to take in the elaborate fireplace and mantle at the end of the room, and began to set down plates of food. His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw fresh, fried chicken and whipped mashed potatoes.
"You didn't have to go through all the trouble," he assured you, but you smirked at the way he stared at the chicken, the aroma from the breading overpowering his senses.
"It wasn't any trouble, I like to cook," you replied, disappearing into the kitchen to grab the vegetables and a basket of fresh rolls before finally joining him at the table.
Joel spread the cloth napkin over his lap, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from devouring everything in sight. He glanced up at you and you grinned.
"Go ahead, help yourself."
You watched with a small smile on your face as he loaded up his plate, then played with your own food until he took his first bite of chicken. He froze, his mouth full, and stared at you in awe before he dropped the chicken leg on his plate and leaned back, a deep, appreciative moan rumbling from his chest, making your thighs squeeze together under the table.
"Goddamn," he said once he swallowed. "That's the best fried chicken I've ever had in my entire life, darlin'."
You giggled and finally took a dainty bite of your own before nodding in agreement. "It's not bad."
Joel scoffed and took another bite. "Don't sell yourself short, now. I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. What'd you put in this?"
He listened, completely enraptured, as you explained how you soaked the chicken in buttermilk the day before and all of the seasonings you used in the breading.
"Oh! I almost forgot the lemonade," you said, standing back up and rushing into the kitchen, returning with two cold glasses and setting them down on the placemats. He nodded his thanks, mouth still full, and you giggled again.
You were already planning on packing up all the leftovers so he could take it home, but you still encouraged him to have as much as he wanted while it was warm and fresh.
"Did you make the rolls, too?" he asked after he took a bite.
You laughed and shook your head. "No, I'm not that good. I bought them this morning from a local bakery I like around the corner."
You had finished your meal long before he did, watching with your chin in your palm as he went back for seconds, reveling in the noises and compliments he made with practically each bite.
"Here, have some more," you told him, nudging the plate of chicken in his direction, but he leaned back in the chair and shook his head. "I can't, but everythin' was delicious. Thank you."
"You're welcome. I'm thrilled to cook for someone again," you replied with a sad smile before standing up and picking up your plate. He immediately stood and began to collect the rest, but you waved him back down.
"Sit, sit, I still have dessert," you told him, and based on the way he looked at you in that moment you would have put money down that he could be knocked over with a feather.
"Oh, darlin', you did too much," he replied, immediately flooding with guilt that he didn't even bring wine or flowers.
"Stop! I told you, I like doing it and I never get a chance to anymore, so please, sit down and I'll be right back."
Begrudgingly, he did as he was told and, while listening to you in the kitchen, peered out the back window at the meticulously kept grounds. Your house, like you, was absolutely beautiful. It felt like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert.
You reappeared in the dining room with a bowl of diced, sugared strawberries and a plate of warm biscuits. He watched in stunned silence as you fixed him a plate, spooning the strawberries on top of a fresh shortcake, but told him to wait a moment before hurrying back into the kitchen and returning with a small bowl of homemade whipped cream.
Joel thought he died and went to heaven.
He could tell you didn't want to hear him complain that it was too much, so instead he lavished your baking with praise and thanks, both of which seemed to make your eyes shine bright and your lips remain curled into a smile the whole time.
"You're taking the leftovers home, too," you warned him once you finally allowed him to help bring things back into the kitchen. You were packing everything up nice and neat in matching Tupperware containers and stacking everything into a paper bag. As much as he wanted to decline, he really wanted your leftovers more, so he continued to thank you as he began to wash the dishes in your farmhouse sink. You had tried to fight him on it, but he finally wore you down and won. Stubborn little thing, he thought.
After dinner was cleaned up, you led him back down the hall and up the wide staircase, explaining that the books were all housed in a den at the top of the stairs, but when you opened the door to the room, den seemed like too small a word for it.
It was gorgeous, plain and simple. The cherry wainscoting continued in this room with a dark green wallpaper to accent the wood. All along the wall were antique sconces lighting up floor to ceiling bookcases stuffed full of literature. On the back wall was a large, heavy looking desk with a wingback velvet chair. The desk itself had books and papers scattered about, as if someone were in the middle of something and was rudely interrupted, but based on the layer of dust, he had to imagine nobody had sat there in some time.
And then it hit him: this was your fiancé's office.
A laptop sat open and turned off on the corner of the desk, along with a dusty printer behind the chair on the carpeted floor. He noticed what had to have been manuscripts of some kind based on the lack of coverings on the bound papers piling up next to the printer.
He was an author. This is where he worked.
That was when Joel realized you had been suspiciously quiet. He turned towards you, his eyes scanning your face, studying it. Your arms were wrapped around your middle as you stared blankly at the desk.
"We don't gotta do this today," he said softly, snapping you out of your reverie.
"No, it's okay," you replied, your voice so small it nearly broke his heart. You turned and walked toward the corner of the room, opposite the desk, where a small couch and coffee table sat. A few cardboard boxes were stacked nearby, two of which remained unopened, one recklessly torn into. You started with that one.
"Here," you said, pulling out a few books and handing them out. He stepped forward and took them, looking down at the covers and the beautiful artwork that adorned them. "These are the first trilogy, you should probably read them first before the next. They're different stories but they inevitably weave together so it'll make more sense if you-" you paused, your voice getting caught in your throat, and that's when he realized you had been fighting back tears.
"Hey, it's okay," he told you gently, putting the books down on the coffee table and carefully touching your shoulder, urging you to sit on the couch. After a moment's hesitation, you did, and he sat beside you. "This was too fast. I'll leave these here and maybe one day, when you're feelin' up to it, we can try again."
You looked up at him, eyes watering, and shook your head.
"No, take these now. I have more, I have tons, actually," you said, nodding towards the unopened boxes. "I just haven't come in here since he died and I didn't think it would be this hard." You wiped furiously at your cheeks, trying to hide your anguish.
Joel's heart thundered in his chest. He rubbed your back, trying to offer you a glimmer of comfort while he glanced around the room. "Maybe it was too soon," he offered again.
"No, it's been a year, Joel. I needed to do this." You took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you. I know this is probably more than you expected-"
"Nah, hey, none of that, now," he cooed, mindlessly petting your hair. "If you needed someone to be here for this, I'm glad you picked me, okay?"
You sniffled and nodded, quietly thanking him again before taking another deep breath and exhaling with a nervous laugh as you looked around the room with him.
"Can I ask you something?"
"'Course," he replied.
"How long did it take for you to move on after your wife passed?"
He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it, his fingers still playing with the ends of your soft hair as he slowly rubbed your back. "Well, hard to say. She was sick for a long time so I think I had time to come to terms with it before she died, y'know?" You nodded and listened to him, hanging on his every word and inadvertently leaning into his gentle touch. "Then I had Sarah to worry 'bout and, I don't know, time just... passed me by." He chuckled dryly for a moment before continuing. "My brother thinks I never got over it, Sarah thinks I never processed it, but they only think that 'cause I never dated anyone else."
Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession.
"Never?"
He shook his head and gave you a lopsided grin. "Been busy, I guess."
"But aren't you... lonely?"
He sucked in a sharp breath and cast his gaze to the floor. How did you manage to see right through him so quickly? Was it the common ground or something else?
"Wasn't too bad til Sarah left," he admitted, "but now... yeah. Yeah, it's lonely."
You scanned his face, watching the flicker of sadness in his eyes he tried to hide from you, and you inched a bit closer.
"I'm glad we found each other, Joel," you whispered. His eyes found yours again and he smiled.
"Me, too, sweetheart."
Then, without giving it another thought, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. It was so tender and soft it felt like he was on the bus in fifth grade and Christine Murphy was giving him his fist kiss all over again while kids in nearby seats teased them with sing-song voices.
You pulled back and looked into his eyes, searching for any hesitation but all you must have seen was confusion because you leaned forward again, kissing him with a little more emotion, your small hand coming up to cup his greying, prickly jaw. You tasted like strawberries and lemonade and you smelled like vanilla and it was making every neuron in his brain fire all at the same time, to the point where his body had no idea what to do but remain frozen.
It was when your tongue first slipped past your lips and flicked nervously over the seam of his mouth that he finally came crashing down to earth. He sat back, breaking the kiss and holding you by the shoulders, staring deeply into your eyes. You were both panting slightly, probably from the excitement and adrenaline, as he tried to figure out what to say, what to do. You were in a fragile state, he decided. You made a mistake, the moment got away from you both and it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You were too young and sweet and beautiful. You didn't really want anything to do with an old man like him. He just happened to be there when you were vulnerable and that was all.
The words never came. He couldn't form a coherent sentence. As the seconds dragged on, your face began to fall and embarrassment flooded your chest, the atmosphere in the room suddenly so thick that it was difficult to breathe. You cleared your throat and leaned back, his hands falling from your shoulders, and then you were the first to speak.
"Oh, no."
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#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader#comfort Joel#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel the last of us#the last of us au#joel miller au#joel miller angst#Joel miller grief#the last of us angst#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#evergreen fic#Joel pov
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Twelve days of Christmas - Chapter 1
paring: bucky barnes x fem! reader word count: 733 words warnings: marriage, children, slight angst, christmas. let me know if there is anything else :)
part 1 part 2 part 3
He was late. Again. Bucky had promised he would make an effort, as he did every time, but Stark always had him busy with one thing or another. You guessed men were all the same. Once they had the girl, they stopped trying. You never expected that from your husband, though. Closed off as he might seem, James had a good heart, one that did all he could for your family. All except actually show up recently.
Unlocking your phone for the millionth time, you were greeted by your string of unseen messages sent over the past two hours.
Liv and I are already at the school.
I saved you a seat, third row to the left.
James, are you coming?
It’s about to start soon, are you still at work?
I can’t believe you’re doing this again.
James?
At any moment, your daughter would be going up on stage, adorably dressed as a sugar plum fairy for her school’s Christmas performance. And he wasn’t there. You could clearly picture Olivia’s face as she stepped into the spotlight, searching for her dad in the crowd, only to find his absence. The purse that sat where he was supposed to be served as a reminder of every seat you saved him that her never occupied. Every time it got harder. Both to place the bag as you sat and to remove it when he didn’t show.
“Where the hell are you, James?” you muttered under your breath.
During your relationship and beginning of your marriage, your husband was the most caring and present man that ever existed. Then Liv was born, and rent was due. Money made the world spin and the lack of it made your husband seek more work. You knew he was overworked. You knew he did it for your family. The thing is, you had already gotten a raise and so did he, a significant one at that. You were comfortable, there was enough money saved for months if not more than a year. That did not make James slow down.
You knew he did not care about the money. He wasn’t the kind of guy to delight in the luxuries this world had to offer. Practical to a fault, he would even wear the same ragged clothes until you secretly replaced them. So why did he do it? Work until 3am, miss birthdays and special occasions, pull away from your family. From you.
It made you wonder if all those late nights were truly spent working. Maybe he was slowly forgetting your family because he found himself in someone else. Maybe your worst fear, that you would never be enough no matter how hard you tried, was the harsh reality. Maybe he was better off without you.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” one of the mothers you usually saw during drop-off asked, steering you from your thoughts.
Was it? You gazed at the auditorium doors one last time, hoping to see your husband’s face as he searched for you. But there was no one. People were already settled down and the lights started to dim. He wasn’t coming. A fact you already knew but had not found in yourself to believe.
“All yours.” You replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
As the woman sat down, something settled in your chest. Something you already knew you had to do, that you lacked the courage to. For your daughter, but mostly for yourself. You were tired of being the only one showing up, the only one fighting for a relationship that felt one-sided.
No. No more. You would rather be single again and truly be alone than to feel so lonely with someone by your side. So much for better or worse. He couldn’t even stay home for long enough to know if times were good or bad, to know you were falling apart.
Tears welled up in your eyes as the play began and you were grateful for the dark. Falling into its embrace, you wished one last time that your husband would show up. You wished he would realize that he was losing you. With all your heart, you wished he would do something, say something. Change. As much as you loved James, you wished he would change. By the time the lights turned on again, you realized that not all Christmas wishes come true.
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divider by @bernardsbendystraws
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#marvel fanfiction#marvel#christmas#christmas fic
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The Language of Flowers
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer prepares a personalized gift for his first date with you Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.02k a/n: It’s been a while and I’ve been very much under the weather lately but I wanted to finally let this out of my drafts to make way for new ideas! Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist
Spencer could feel his calloused fingers shaking from the weight of making a mistake that would put him back to square one. He had been hunched over his dining table since the ungodly hour of five am—grateful it wasn’t a work day. He wanted to get this right.
No, he needed to get this right.
There was a sheen of perspiration that started to cover the crevices of his tightly wound body making him briefly wonder if this was what bomb squad members felt when faced with the choice of cutting between a blue and red wire.But instead of wires, he was cutting papers with such precision that only a Doctor would have during surgery.
A single bead of sweat made its torturous way down from his temple to his chin, hanging on the precipice as if threatening to leave its’ teardrop mark on the colorful sheets scattered around the table.
He sighed, uncurling his hunched form, as the back of his palm wiped away the built-up sweat, eyes roving the crafted perfection laid in front of him.
When the concept formed in his expansive brain, he had entered research mode on which specialized papers would be best and, with the help of Garcia’s complied instructions via the web, he had started test run a week before this very special day.
Everything had to go right—be perfect for his very first date, one of the many, he hoped, with you.
The grandfather clock tucked between his bookshelves chimed—a quarter past four. He jumped from his musings, hurriedly rushing to change into his carefully selected outfit, all the while muttering a series of affirmations under his breath to ease his nerves.
He never thought he’d ever get the chance to ask you out. When he first ran into you, literally, you had this magnetic pull to his very being, as if you were his very source of gravity on Earth rather than Earth itself.
It was unlike anything he experienced before and if Spencer had to describe a best representation of smitten at first sight, it would be that exact moment when he spilled his coffee on you and you, head thrown back, laughing before flashing a sweet, saccharine smile that made him tongue-tied and bumbling.
That was a few years ago and you’ve been a constant figure in his life ever since—always lovely and radiant and him, always pining for a future he thought could never be.
He spritzed himself with the perfume you’ve gifted, peppermint and cedar wood, before grabbing his personalized gift to commemorate the first date.
An origami bouquet of purple Morning Glory.
———
“Hi,” you opened the apartment door. There was a hint of breathlessness behind your words—an effect of your ceaselessly pacing while waiting for him to arrive.
“You look beautiful,” he dazedly whispered, cheeks coloring a shade of bright red. “I—uhm, these are for you—” he conjured the bouquet behind his back.
You gasped, warmth blossoming from your chest. “For me?”
He nodded. “You love flowers but you—” he cleared his throat. “—mentioned you get sad when they wilt so I made you eternal flowers. Is, is that alright?”
The corners of your gloss painted lips lifting up to a smile. The same exact one that got him hooked from the first look.
Your lack of reply did little to ease his trepidation, causing him to ramble. “Uh, they’re these flower called ‘Morning Glory’ and they signify affection and new beginnings. They’re also one of your birth flowers—September and actually in Chinese folklore, they represent ‘a single day for lovers to meet’ not that we’re lovers, yet I mean, at all but yeah—they remind of you.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Spence,” you step away from the entrance to let him in. “Why don’t you come on in, I’ll just place them on a vase.”
He shuffled inside after you, taking in the warmth and life your apartment evoked. The sunlight streaming in through the thin, almost translucent white curtains that light the place with softness. The precariously stacked books, half of the authors he had never heard of, beside your worn out beige sofa and a lively green plant that threatens to grow out of its pottery.
Everything felt homely.
Every piece reflected you.
“Sorry it looks a little bit messy right now,” you rambled on, placing the origami bouquets on top of the living room table—effectively making it into a center piece.
He shook his head and laughed. “No, no. It looks lived in, homely.”
“That’s good to hear. So—” you rocked back and forth on your heels. “Should we get going?”
“Yeah,” he opened the door and gestured with his arm. “Ladies first.”
The hallway was filled with giggles and shy glances as you went ahead and locked the apartment behind you. Life felt surreal ever since you uttered the word ‘yes’ to his ramblings on going out on weekend market date. He briefly wondered if he had to clarify his invitation as a ‘date’ between two individuals that would like to broaden their relationship and not as a ‘date’ between two platonic people. But your cheeks turned this candy pink in color before your sweet voice spelled out that it will be a romantic one and, in which case, he vigorously nodded.
“So,” you started.
“So,” he mimicked.
You laughed before slowly moving your hand towards his. The backs of your palms gently rubbing against each other, creating friction that sent his beating heart into overdrive. You bit your gloss pillowy lips before intertwining your pinky with his.
“I’m glad you asked me out,” you breathed out.
He tried to steady his breath, all of his fingers now intertwining with yours. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“As if I could ever say no.”
And when he let go of your hand to help you get in his vintage faded blue car, he reached out over the console to tangle it back together, finding the solace and comfort that he had hopefully and finally, found his forevermore partner.
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert
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⚣ Too Late 💙
⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |
⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?
⚣💙 Words → 12.4K
REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙
⚣ ENJOY 💙
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The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.
A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.
Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.
Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.
After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.
Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.
Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.
It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.
Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.
The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.
It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.
Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.
But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.
At least he had a friend.
Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...
...
Nah.
But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.
Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.
In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.
But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.
He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.
Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.
Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.
It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?
But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.
Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.
He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.
But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.
Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.
He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.
Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.
Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.
So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.
Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.
He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.
But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.
One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.
Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.
Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.
Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.
A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.
Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.
The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.
Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.
But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.
It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.
Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.
He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.
Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.
But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.
The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.
High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.
Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.
There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…
Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.
As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.
Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.
And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.
The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.
This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads. He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.
“Crab cake?”
“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.
As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.
Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.
Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.
Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.
Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.
Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.
But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.
Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.
“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.
Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.
“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”
Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”
Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”
Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”
There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.
“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.
Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.
His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”
Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”
“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”
Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.
But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.
Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.
Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"
Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.
"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.
Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"
Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."
"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."
Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."
Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."
Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."
Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."
Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"
Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."
Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"
"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.
Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.
Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"
Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."
Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"
Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."
Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."
Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.
"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."
Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."
As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.
Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"
"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."
Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."
"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."
Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."
Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.
It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.
"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.
Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.
As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.
Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.
Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"
Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.
"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."
Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."
Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."
Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."
Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."
Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."
"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.
Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"
Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.
As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.
The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."
Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."
Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."
Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."
Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."
As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.
But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.
Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.
As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.
And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.
Yeah, that hope didn't last long.
Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.
He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.
Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.
And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.
And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.
The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.
Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.
It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.
Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.
“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.
And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.
But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.
It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.
And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.
Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.
“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”
Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.
But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.
And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.
But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.
It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.
Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.
As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.
As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.
By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.
"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.
"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.
As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.
But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”
Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.
“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”
Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”
Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”
Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”
Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”
Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”
Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.
Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”
Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.
Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.
“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”
Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”
Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”
But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.
Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.
Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.
As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.
It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.
“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.
“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.
Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.
But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.
Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.
But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.
“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.
But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”
Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.
Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.
Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.
As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.
As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.
Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.
“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.
Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.
Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.
The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.
Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.
The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.
The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.
Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.
Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.
Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.
"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."
Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”
Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.
He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”
Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”
Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”
Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”
Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”
With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”
Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.
Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.
They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.
Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.
Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”
Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”
A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.
Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"
"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.
"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.
"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.
Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."
Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.
"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"
"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."
"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.
"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"
"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.
"It was a squirrel, Y/N."
"And it was a jerk!"
"How was it a jerk?"
"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.
"By arguing with it?"
"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."
"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.
Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.
"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."
Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."
Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."
"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."
Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."
"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.
A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.
But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."
Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"
Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."
The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.
"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."
Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."
Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.
He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.
But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.
"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."
"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.
Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."
Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."
Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"
Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."
With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.
And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.
☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️
☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️
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No 23 prompt please with jana and reader both playing from u19 together to Barcelona and Falling in love for first time . R is a huge dork . Thanks.
You're such a dork
Jana x reader
~~~
You were sitting at your desk studying when you heard a slight knock on your office door and you turned your head to see your girlfriend stepping through the doorway with a plate of snacks in her hand. Jana gently set the plate down next to your computer before wrapping her arms around you from behind.
"Hola amor, what are you working on?" Jana asked as you turned your head to give her a kiss.
You smiled as Jana wrapped her arms around you, her warmth soothing the stress that had been building throughout your study session. The way she always seemed to show up at just the right moment made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.
“Hola, mi amor,” you replied softly, turning your head to press another quick kiss to her lips. “I’m just studying for this big history test. I feel like I’m drowning in flash cards.”
Jana chuckled, her fingers gently combing through your hair. “You always say that, but I know you’ll ace it. You’re the biggest dork I know, and I mean that in the best way possible.”
You let out a small laugh, feeling the warmth of her words. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I’m just making this harder than it has to be. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I’m glad you came by.”
“Of course, I couldn’t leave you alone to study forever,” Jana said, her voice teasing. “And besides, you deserve a little break.”
She picked up the plate of snacks and held it up in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a playful spark. “I brought you some fuel. You can’t keep working without food. That’s rule number one, right?”
You laughed and took a few of the snacks from the plate, grateful for the small gesture of care. “Thanks, babe. You always know how to make things better.”
Jana leaned down, resting her chin on your shoulder as she watched you nibble on the food. “Well, you’ve been working really hard lately. I wanted to make sure you take care of yourself. But also, I think it’s cute when you’re all stressed out, trying to figure things out like a dork.”
You rolled your eyes, though you were secretly thrilled by the way she teased you. “I’m serious! You don’t get it. I’m juggling so much right now, and I just want everything to go well.”
Jana pulled back slightly, her face turning soft with understanding. “I get it. But hey, you don’t need to do everything by yourself, okay? I’m here for you.”
Your heart swelled at the sincerity in her voice. She was calm, steady, and always made you feel like you weren’t alone in anything.
“I know. I guess I just sometimes feel like I need to be perfect,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable for a moment.
Jana smiled, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Amor, you don’t need to be perfect. I fell in love with the biggest dork I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t change a thing. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
A smile tugged at your lips as you turned to face her, your heart beating a little faster. “I love you, Jana. You know that?”
She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know. I love you too, dork.”
The two of you sat together for a while, sharing the plate of snacks and talking about everything and nothing, the way only you two could. It felt like time slowed down whenever you were with her, the world outside disappearing in a blur. In that moment, there was no test, no pressure, just the two of you.
It hadn’t always been like this, of course. You and Jana had known each other for years, since your U19 days at Barcelona. Back then, you were just two teammates on the same field, awkwardly laughing about misplaced passes or a bad goal attempt. You had bonded over your shared love of the game, your goofy personalities, and the way you both always managed to mess up in the most charming ways.
There had been a time when you hadn’t even realized what was growing between you and Jana. At first, it was just easy friendship and a mutual respect for each other’s skills and personalities. But somewhere along the way, that friendship had evolved into something deeper, something more.
The first time you’d caught yourself thinking about Jana outside of the context of football was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. You had been sitting in the locker room after a particularly grueling training session, distracted by the way Jana’s laugh sounded when she talked about the ridiculous prank she and Bruna had pulled on Pina. You had tried to focus on the game analysis in front of you, but all you could hear was Jana’s voice, light and carefree. Mapi had to elbow you before you realized she had asked you a question.
It hadn’t taken long after that for you to realize what was happening. You were falling for one of your best friends.
And that’s when the nervousness set in. You weren’t the kind of person who made the first move. You were awkward, fumbling over your words, and way too much of a dork to figure out the complicated world of relationships. But Jana had picked up on it, and in a way that only she could, she made the first step.
That night, after an intense match, she had pulled you aside in the locker room, her eyes soft but intense. “Y/N,” she had said, her voice low, “I think I like you.”
Your heart had nearly stopped at those words. You had stammered out something about being confused, but she had simply kissed you, gently, without hesitation. It was everything you’d imagined and more, and suddenly, the awkwardness of it all melted away.
After that, things had shifted. You weren’t just teammates anymore, you were partners, both on and off the field. There was a comfort in being with Jana that you couldn’t explain. She made you feel seen, loved, and appreciated for every quirky, dorky thing you did.
And now, sitting in your room, studying for a test that you didn’t feel prepared for, Jana was right there beside you, proving once again that you didn’t have to be perfect.
“Promise me you’ll take a break after this?” Jana asked, her voice soft but serious.
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”
Jana kissed you on the forehead, the sweet gesture making your heart swell with affection. “Good, my favorite dork."
You let out a laugh, resting your head on her shoulder. “And you’re my favorite person.”
#woso#woso x reader#fcb femení#fcb femení x reader#woso imagine#fc barcelona femeni#jana fernandez x reader#jana fernandez#woso imagines#woso fanfics
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you'd let it slip that one time, when he called you at the time of day he usually does to check in, you'd let it go to voicemail just to be able to save it and conjure up his voice whenever you pleased while he was away.
"i don't have any voicemails of you," nanami had said with a troubled look on his face, and you'd found it so charming that you had to lean in and kiss him.
you'd shrugged, giving him a small, grateful smile. "you always answer when i call, kento."
you know him well enough to understand his logic; he'd never miss any of your calls, even when he's working (you were the only person allowed to contact him past his phone's 'Do Not Disturb' feature) - he couldn't ever risk missing it when you needed him, and you wouldn't think to disturb him for trivial things either.
of course your answer doesn't satisfy him, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. you can't help but laugh a little, kissing his frown away and changing the subject to save him from the stress.
the next day, at that time he usually calls during his break, he receives an ominous text from you.
don't call. and don't answer, i'm leaving you a present.
he worries immediately, but another text pops up once you see he's read it.
don't worry! you'll ruin the surprise! i love you ❤️
nanami tries his best, but he can't help it. instances of something going terribly wrong concerning you and him not being able to reach you in time flood his brain and nearly make him lightheaded. he does as you ask and doesn't answer when your contact pops up on the screen, his self-control waning quickly the longer he sees your photo.
he doesn't know how long he stares at the screen, even when his phone stops ringing.
and then, just a minute later, a notification for a new voicemail pops up, and the tornado of worries in his brain grinds to a halt when everything suddenly clicks, and he's reminded of the short, perplexing conversation you'd had the day prior.
and he feels a little silly.
you pick up on the first ring, as if you were expecting his call.
"my love," you greet, and even though the audio on his phone doesn't do your sweet voice justice, it soothes his heart all the same. "you're not gonna listen to it?" he can tell you're smiling, playful and lovely.
"i'll save it for my way home from work."
"hmm, how do you know it wasn't something naughty, then? what if you start blushing on the train, and everyone notices?"
"darling-" he starts, but uncharacteristically doesn't have a follow-up. he knows no one on his commute cares enough about anything else at that time other than coming home as soon as possible, much like himself, but he lets you have that, if it'll make you giggle like you are now. your laugh is deeply precious to him.
"i can just imagine it - but i wouldn't wanna ever miss seeing you blush." oh, he knows, and has suffered your inappropriate whispers in public just to get a reaction out of him nearly enough to get used to it. nearly. "are you blushing now?"
"no," nanami lies easily, heat crawling up his neck in that oddly pleasant way only you can seem to bring out of him.
you laugh just as easily, see through him just like that, as if he's right in front of you.
"i'm glad you didn't listen to me and still called," you say softly, traces of your sweet laughter still lingering in your tone. "i wanted to hear your voice, too."
nanami hums, doesn't tell you that that makes him smile way too wide for him having lunch alone. he tries to tone it down in case gojo somehow happens to stumble upon his carefully chosen, secluded spot.
"i miss you," you sigh, as if you hadn't seen him this morning and kissed him until he was almost late, like you usually do.
"i miss you, too, darling," he replies just as sincerely, as if he wasn't seeing you in just a few short hours and wasn't planning on holding you until you begged him to let you go so you could get dinner together, like he usually does.
"enjoy your break, handsome." the corner of his lip always twitches up when you call him that. "come home safe."
"of course. i love you."
"love you more!"
nanami knows that if he argues that, like he really wants to every time, you'd be too stubborn to let him win. so he just chuckles and lets you hang up.
despite what you'd teased him about, he does listen to your message on the train. and he does start smiling like a madman, his entire face glowing, lighting up with it, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it when he's hearing your voice and he's only a few short minutes away from having you in his arms again.
"hi, handsome. i had to think carefully about how to get you to not answer your phone, but it didn't end up being that creative, huh?" you breathe a soft laugh, the gentle cadence of it carrying into your sweet voice. "anyway, here's your obligatory voicemail from me. i'm just kidding - i thought about it, and you looked so sad about it that i just had to make one. you know i'd do anything to make you happy, right? it's only fair, with how happy you make me, too... i hope this will suffice, i didn't really have anything special to say except that i think about you so much it's becoming quite concerning, and i love you so much i feel like i'm going crazy, slowly but surely. look what you do to me!... um, oh- i'm gonna run out of time soon! i can't wait to leave you a million more of these, it's almost as fun as listening to yours... actually, i'll tell you a little secret: i listen to yours every day when i'm missing you most, which is usually right after you leave for work. sometimes i wish you'd come right back even though it's a little ridiculous. um, anyway, i'll think of a more creative way to trick you next time. come back safely, i miss you terribly... i love you more than you know, kento."
#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami fluff#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x reader fluff#nanami x reader fluff#nanami kento fluff#jjk nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x reader#jjk nanami x reader#idk i think voicemails and voice memos r neat 👉👈#nanami be my baby#ten.writes#1k#2k
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«𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻, 𝓘 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮»
Summary : When you question Don’s abilities to loosen himself a bit, he decide to show you how precisely he meant when he said he’s enjoying life.
Word Count : 2.9k
Co��tent: mdni, age gap (Don is 38, Reader 20), pastor kink, God complex, pussy eating, nipple playing, vaginal fingering, PiV, rough sex, daddy kink if you squint, mustache kink, seashell position, degradation if you squint, huge breeding kink, mention of sequestration, faith kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, pet names, dumbification, choking, orgasm denying, cockwarming.
AN : this is the nastiest piece of shit I’ve ever written and the main idea comes from the lovely @mathesonlvr who I share my passion for Don mustache with. (I think). Anyway that’s like hella dirty so enjoy !
The large, old house stood as a symbol of everything he believed in—solid, immovable, a structure built on faith and discipline. Pastor Don Piper, a man well into his thirties, was known for his devotion to the church and his deep convictions. Every sermon he delivered was woven with scripture and firm, unyielding guidance. And then, there was you—his much younger wife, with a heart full of kindness but a spirit still uncertain of the boundaries that came with marriage to a man like him.
Don sat at his desk, reading scripture with the same unwavering focus he gave to all things. His life was built around discipline, faith, and order—he had lived every moment according to the rules of his belief, and it had brought him peace. But now, sitting in the silence, there was a tension he couldn’t quite name. It came from you, his much younger wife. You had been married to him for only a year, and while your sweetness and enthusiasm had drawn him to you, there were times when your innocence, your naivety, seemed to test the very boundaries of his patience.
You were in the other room, humming softly to yourself as you tidied up the living room. He could hear the occasional clatter as you absentmindedly dropped a vase or bumped into a piece of furniture. It was something you did often—your clumsiness was just another piece of the puzzle he had come to accept about you. But tonight, after a long day of counseling and sermons, the sound grated on his nerves more than usual. "Careful with that," he called out, trying to keep his voice calm but feeling the edge creeping in. "Oh! Sorry!" you replied, your voice light and airy, as if nothing in the world could ever bother you. It was part of what he loved about you—your innocence. But that same innocence sometimes left him feeling like you didn’t truly grasp the gravity of the life you had stepped into.
A few moments later, you appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly, holding a plate of cookies you had made earlier. "I thought you might want something sweet while you work." He glanced up from his Bible, taking in your wide-eyed expression, your gentle smile. There was no malice in you, no understanding of the inner conflict that simmered beneath his composed surface. "Thank you," he said, trying to soften his tone. He reached for a cookie, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. You set the plate down on his desk, hovering awkwardly beside him. "You’ve been working a lot lately," you said, your voice filled with concern. "I worry that maybe you're too hard on yourself. You always seem so… serious."
He paused, looking up at you fully now. Serious. It was a word you often used to describe him, but he couldn’t understand why you found it strange. "My work is serious," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "The church, faith… these are not things to take lightly." You nodded quickly, but the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your blouse told him you didn’t entirely understand. "I know," you said, "but I thought maybe… sometimes it’s okay to not think so much about all the rules. To just… you know, enjoy life a little." He stiffened at that, the tension rising. This wasn’t the first time you had said something like this, and each time it struck a nerve deep within him. He had spent his life devoted to his faith, to guiding others on the path of righteousness. And here you were, with your innocent and almost childlike outlook, suggesting that perhaps it wasn’t all that important.
This innocent and naive look sent him into arousal right away. How should he took you ? On the desk, soft and sweet or in the bed, your beautiful and supple body laid bare for him as you whimper breathlessly under him. Oh, how he wanted to see your belly swell with his love for you. His pretty little housewife round with child. Your naive nature would be perfect to keep you locked in the house, nursing child after child. Looking pretty at his arms was your only duty right now but he could promote you to being the pretty mother of his children. His mind went wild and he imagined what it would be like. « Donnie ? » You squealed innocently seeing him dozing off. Don's eyes snapped open, a brief flash of panic crossing his features before he saw it was you, his beautiful, innocent wife. He smiled then, the tension from earlier dissipating as he looked at you, his heart swelling with love and desire. "Yes, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.
You walked closer to him, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you stood beside his desk. "It's late, shouldn't we go to bed?" He nodded, his hands moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. "Yes, my love. Let's go to bed." As you walked with him, your hand resting in his, he couldn't help but imagine the delightful sin he'd commit with you tonight. As you climbed into bed, he followed, his eyes never leaving your body. He watched the way your nightgown hugged your curves, the way your full breasts peeked out from the top.
He pushed you gently onto the bed, his hands skimming over your body, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric. "Sugar," he whispered, his voice thick and low, "I’m going to take your advice to enjoy life." You bit your lip, your eyes wide and innocent. "Really, Don?" He smiled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Yes, my precious little lamb. Tonight, I'm going to show you that I really enjoy you." And with that, he began to unbutton your nightgown, revealing your soft, supple skin.
His fingers traced over your body, making you shiver in anticipation. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck. "Tonight, you're going to feel the glory of God," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "through me." His hands moved lower, sliding under your panties, his fingers finding your wetness. You gasped, your body arching into his touch. "Donnie," you moaned, your voice a sweet, innocent plea. He chuckled softly, his voice full of adoration, "Just wait, darling. Just wait."
You whimpered « Don… please… » Your nails dig in his shoulders as you threw your head backwards. Suddenly Don's fingers danced over your aching clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He watched you, the sight of your sweet, innocent face filled with pleasure driving him wild. "Do you like that, sugar ?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. Your hips bucked against his hand, your back arching as you cried out, "Yes, please…"
He smirked, his fingers delving deeper, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp and moan. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?" he cooed, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. "Such a sweet, innocent thing." Your body quivered, the pleasure building within you, threatening to spill over. "Don…" you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving tiny crescents of red. He grinned, his fingers slowing as he felt you on the brink. "Not yet, my love," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Not until I'm buried deep inside you." Suddenly he leaned down between your thighs. You whimpered just from the sight. « Don …what are you doin—… » You moaned loudly when his lips kissed your cunt.
Don's lips brushed against your swollen folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He inhaled deeply, his senses flooding with your scent—sweet and pure, like you. He flicked his tongue against your clit, making you buck and moan. "Daddy," you breathed, your body trembling.
He chuckled against your flesh, his tongue dancing and teasing, making you squirm beneath him. "Such a naughty little thing," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But I bet you'd be even naughtier if you were mine completely." The thought sent shivers down your spine, your body quivering as you felt the edge of your climax growing nearer. You couldn't help but whimper, your hips thrusting up to meet his mouth.
« Don…please…your mustache is scratching so good » You whimpered loudly. Don grinned, his mustache brushing against your sensitive skin as he continued his assault on your body. "Is that so, my love?" he purred, the sound low and deep. "I must remember that." He increased the pressure of his lips and tongue, his fingers still teasing your wetness. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure mounted. "Donnie…" He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you want to cum for me, sweet girl ?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Do you want to feel the love of God through me?"
Your body shook, the words sending you hurtling over the edge. "Yes, unh," you cried out, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your body shuddering and trembling. He continued to tease you, his tongue flicking against your clit as you came down from your climax. When you were finally still, he pulled back, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh. "Now," he said, cooing, "let's go to Heaven." He positioned himself between your legs, his thick, uncut cock pressing against your wet entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "Are you ready, sweetheart ?" he asked, his voice a deep, seductive rumble. Your body tingled with anticipation, the thought of having him inside you making you tremble. "Donnie," you breathed, your voice soft and sweet. "Please, I'm ready."
You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his mustache dripping from your cum, pearls of it coating the once silky hair. Don's stared down at you for a moment, his eyes filled with desire, before he pushed into you slowly. The sensation of his thick shaft filling you caused you to gasp, your eyes widening as you adjusted to the feeling. "Oh, God," you whispered, your voice a soft, sweet moan. He paused, his hands gripping your hips as he looked into your eyes. "I'm going to take you to Heaven, little lamb," he growled, his voice low and full of promise. "And I'm not going to let you come down for a very long time." The words echoed in your mind as your body responded to his, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you. All you could do was cling to him, your body arching, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out his name.
Soon enough you were reduced to a babbling mess who couldn’t form a word as he pounded into you, his heavy sack slapping against your ass. Don took your desire as a challenge, his hips thrusting into you with a force that left you breathless. His hand slid down your body, his fingers digging into your hip as he pulled you closer, his thrusts growing more and more brutal. "Take it, you little slut," he growled, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "Take it from your husband, your God." He felt your body trembling beneath him, the wet sound of his cock slapping against your ass a symphony to his ears. Without warning, his hand left your hip, snaking around your throat, his fingers tightening as he fucked you harder.
« Uh, uh, uh » You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe… you couldn’t even think as Don fucked you dumb. His left hand squeezed your throat and some of his thick right digits flickered on your clit making you moan loudly. Don's fingers worked your clit with precise, lewd motions, causing your body to shudder and buck under the dual onslaught. "Such a good, dirty little girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You love it, don't you?" Your body responded without the need for words, your moans filling the room as you clung to him, the pleasure building within you. "Do you want to cum for me again, sugar ?" he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling purr. "Do you want to feel your God's thick cock pumping inside you as you explode?" Your moans grew louder, your body shaking as you felt the edge of another climax drawing near. "Ungh, ungh…" you whimpered, your voice a sweet, innocent whine.
Don's thrusts grew rougher, more primal as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine, you know that, little lamb?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to feel this cock, this seed, this miracle, pumping into you again and again." His fingers worked your clit with a frenzied intensity, his other hand tightening around your throat as he fucked you, driving you closer to the edge. "I'm going to fill you up, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to impregnate you, make you full and round with my babies, over and over." His eyes looked crazy, like a wild animal under attack.
Don's thrusts grew wilder, his face contorting with the pleasure of claiming his wife, his sweet, innocent little lamb. "You're going to be my personal breeding machine," he growled in a guttural moan. "You’re my wife, my church, my everything." His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, his other hand squeezing your throat, his cock pumping into you with a fervor that bordered on animalistic. "You're going to be nothing but a vessel for my seed, a temple for my cock," he said, his voice a grinding, lewd purr. "And I'm going to use you, over and over, until you're nothing but a broken, satisfied, and pregnant shell."
You drooled, your head falling backwards as you let out raw screams of pleasure. Tears flowed down your cheeks. Don's thrusts grew even more brutal, the rhythm of his cock slamming into your tight, perfect pussy echoing through the room. You could feel the shadows of his manhood disappearing deep within your core, the connection between your bodies visceral and primal. With a grunt, he took your legs, hooking your ankles around his neck, nearly folding you in two as he took control. "Such a tight little pussy," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The sight of you drooling, crying, and whimpering, your body trembling beneath him, sent a surge of carnal pleasure coursing through him. "Makes me think that maybe I married you just for her," he whispered, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "A tiny, young cunt to snuggle my cock perfectly while I decompress."
He pressed into you, his hands gripping your hips, his thrusts fierce and unrelenting. "You're my little plaything, my doll," he breathed, his voice a mix of dirty possessiveness and love. "You're my wife, my bitch, my love." Don's hips continued to thrust, his grip on your legs tight as he folded you into an obscene position. The sight of his thick cock disappearing deep into your body, the outlines of it, showing on your stomach, elicited a groan from his lips.
The sight of your pleasure, the way you drooled and screamed, drove Don wild, his hips slamming into you with a brutal force. "That's it, sweet girl," he groaned, the primal need to claim you, to bury himself in your body, overwhelming. "Daddy wants you to come." He felt your body tense beneath him, your screams growing louder as you reached the peak of your climax. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you, your body tensing, the edge of your climax drawing near. And as your release crashed over you, you cried out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. "Yes," he roared, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Cum for me, my love, cum for your God."
Don felt your body tighten around him, your walls milking his cock as he let out a guttural groan. "Lord, darling," he breathed, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Such a good little cunt for your husband." He collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged as he came down from his high. The sounds of your pleasure, the feel of your body still quivering beneath him, left him feeling both satiated and insatiable. His fingers slowly released their hold on your hips, his cock still buried deep inside you. "We're in Heaven, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with love and desire. "Let's stay here for a while, don’t move. » He kissed your cheek with his wet mustache as you laid, broken, on the folded position he put you through it all.
« Gotta make sure it takes… » He patted gently your belly and his hand caressed the swell of your breasts, occasionally playing with a nipple. You whimpered helplessly from your position, feeling his thick cock in your guts every single time he moved. Finally he pulled away and a big pool of sperm squirted out of you in the most obscene way Don ever saw. He patted your left butt cheek. « You did good, baby. » He cooed softly and pushed back the cum in your fluttering hole. You whined from exhaustion « Donnie ? » You called meekly. « I’m right there, sweetheart » He said reassuringly kissing your forehead.
Nine months later, Don introduced your child to his community with a big smile, pride in you fluttering in his chest for giving him a little miracle.
#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#james kelly#sam monroe#scott barringer#stephen glass#evie writes#clay beresford#don piper
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101 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT ✭
—(🎧)—> when your sick, he always knows just how to take care of you
pairing - bf!minho ♥︎ fem!uni student!reader
genre: sickfic, angst, and comfort
word count: 1.9k
warnings: cursing, unhealthy habits, self deprecating behavior & thoughts.
You grab a sip of your water for what feels like the 1000th time tonight.
Somehow, throughout the day, you had picked up a cold. You knew there was some strain of flu spreading throughout your school, but man this one spread quicker than ever.
There’s no time for that though, especially not with midterms coming up right around the corner. So with heavy eyes and a sore throat that you swear is getting worse within a matter of seconds, you continue studying.
You didn’t live on campus. In fact, you lived in a small apartment with your boyfriend, Minho. It was close enough to both your university and his company, so it worked out perfectly. Not having to deal with pesky, disgusting roommates and getting to live with the love of your life instead was the dream.
The sound of keys ringing and the door cracking open was enough to pull you out of your thoughts. Your lover had just came home.
You smile gently as you hear his quiet footsteps grow ever closer to the door, heart bubbling with same excitement as it had when you first moved in. The feeling never went away, not even a little bit.
“Hi baby.” He says, walking in to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the bed behind you. “Still working this late?”
“Well yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” You reply. You wonder if your voice gave your illness away, because you can see his eye brows furrowing as you speak. “Are you sick y/n?”
“I just came down with it. My throat hurts, that’s all. I may not even be sick.” You try not to worry him, lying as you speak. If you’re being honest, your throat hurts like a bitch. But you know him well enough to know that if he knows how bad your feeling, he’ll focus all his energy on making you feel 110% and push off practically everything else.
He hums in response, eyes still searching yours before he’s moving to stand up. “Let me make you some tea then hmm? that should make you feel better.”
“Are you sure? It’s still super later Minho.” You respond, but you know it’s a loosing battle. He could be stubborn when he needed to be, and he is when it comes to you and your health.
“It’s fine. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you. Do you want chamomile?” He asked, not taking no for an answer. You smile as you feel yourself giving in, eyes feeling even more agonizingly heavy.
“Please” you groan out, and he’s leaving to the kitchen. You feel grateful for him as the day and pain catches up to you, finally deciding to close your textbooks and change for the night. Thankfully, you had already showered and brushed your teeth, so there was no worrying about that.
You grab the book you had been reading from your nightstand as you tuck your self into bed, silently waiting for the tea your boyfriend had prepared.
Even though you put up a slight fight about it, you can’t help but enjoy when he treats you like this. You love when he takes care of you, it makes you feel special and loved. It fills you with a special kind of warmth that can’t be described in words. Just pure love.
Just as the pain in your throat felt as if it was getting impossibly worse, your boyfriend came in with a steaming cup of hot chamomile tea, placing it down on the coaster next to you. “It’s really hot so be careful okay? I’m going to go shower now.” He dotes on you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.
“Ok, thank you so much baby. I’ll probably be sleep by the time you’re done.” And he hums in response, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom, clothes in hand.
The tea does a good job with soothing your throat, the sweet, honey taste dripping down your throat perfectly remedying the itchy, scratchy feeling.
You decide to finally get some shut eye as midnight comes around quicker than you thought, placing your book back on the nightstand and trying to get comfortable.
Key word : Trying
It’s hard, especially with the small cough that creeped its way into your throat all of a sudden. It’s keeping you up, the hacking noise disrupting the peace your body needed to finally fall asleep.
It takes longer than you wish it did, but eventually the tea is able to coax your body into sleep, eyes finally getting the rest they desperately needed.
Moments later, Minho joins you in the bedroom, clad in nothing but breezy pajama pants. Getting into bed with you and snuggling close, he knows you’re asleep, but he can’t help but begin to pepper small kisses upon face and hold you tighter.
“Get better, my love.” He drifts off, falling into sleep alongside you.
And you wish you could say you did.
You woke up smoldering hot but shivering at the same time. You look at your clock, groaning as the bright light amplified the small headache that had spread through your entire face. 10 am. You’re usually up by seven.
You silently say a quick “thank you prayer” that you don’t have classes on Wednesdays. Taking a day off of school during exam season is a whole death wish. But with how things are progressing, you’re not sure if you can even go tomorrow without getting 9-1-1 called.
You open your phone, groaning again as the light messes with your headache, but reading who the message is from still causes a weak smile to take form on your face.
—
new message from “linoo❤️🐰”
linoo❤️🐰: Good morning y/n.
linoo❤️🐰: Are you feeling better?
linoo❤️🐰 : I know you don’t have classes today, so you should take it easy.
linoo❤️🐰 : If you want to call or need me to come over, tell me. You know I won’t mind.
you : hey, I just woke up❤️ im fine though.
he texts back within less than a minute
linoo❤️🐰 : your symptoms are gone?
you : well no… they’re worse. but I’m fine !! i promise
linoo❤️🐰 : you’ll call me if it gets worse right?
you : yes :) I promise
linoo❤️🐰 : okay, have a good day. I love you
you : I love you 2 !!
—
You sigh as you place your phone down, mentally deciding to go take a shower. Surely that’ll fix the headache right?
Your head spins as you get out of bed, the world looking blurry and dizzy with specs of gray. It’s hard to walk.
“How the actual fuck did it get this bad so quickly?” You mumble to yourself, stumbling towards the bathroom and turning on the water.
The steam helps a little bit with the tension in your head and the congestion of your nose, but it’s not doing much. Atleast not as much as you need. Your throat was still burning for some relief, and the dizziness hasn’t stopped either. You’re thinking if it gets any worse, you’re probably going to have to go to the hospital.
The shower itself helps a little bit more with alleviating the pain, the warm water cascading down your skin and warming it up inside. But you can still feel it.
You can still feel the pounding of the headache you swear is forming into a migraine practically tearing your head apart, your throat is still screaming you for something warm, and to make matters worse, you think you’re developing nausea too.
Yup, definitely the flu
The flu never stopped anyone though, and midterms are still right around the corner. So with a dry cough and constant sneeze, you were popping advil, and taking a seat at your desk.
“A little sickness can’t me from doing this” you thought to yourself, but it was much harder than you thought.
Suddenly the sun had already set. The moonlight creeps its way inside through the slits in the blinds, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You didn’t notice the way your eyes were blurred with unshed tears either. Your mind was absolutely buried in the thought of midterms.
I’m not prepared. Im going to fail. I’m a disappointment. I’m so useless, one fucking cough and I end up like this? I don’t even know why I try anym-
“Y/n!” Minho’s voice cuts through the mess swirling through your brain. You look over to where the voice came from and you swear you can see his face crumble the moment he looks at you.
To be fair, you hadn’t looked in the mirror since you took your shower in the morning, but Minho saw something different. He saw disheveled hair, droopy and tired eyes, beads of sweat drooping down your shivering body, and most importantly, tears.
“You told me you would call me if it got worse.” He bitterly spoke, and you felt that cut right through your heart. “I-It didn’t. I’m fine min-“ but he’s cutting you off immediately.
“You’re not fine y/n. You’re literally crying!” He booms, and you can’t help but feel extremely guilty. “Have you ate today? Or at least took medicine?!”
“Uhm, once at like n-nine. Look min I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for not calling you when I was supposed to. B-but my studying. If I stop, I’m not going to make it. I can’t fail min.”
His expression softens at your admission, eyebrows de-furrowing and eyes being replaced by compassion instead of anger and hurt as he walks closer towards you.
“Baby, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. I get it, I love that you want to study. But baby, is it really worth your life?”
Crack
“I know it means a lot, but so do you and your mental health. You can’t push yourself this hard and expect good results. You need to rest.”
Crack
“I love you so much. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Please let me take care of you okay? That’s all I want to do for you love.”
Shatter
You’re sobbing all of a sudden, burrowing your head in his sweatshirt as tears pour as of your eyes like faucets. It’s making your head hurt more, but you didn’t care. You just needed him.
He let you stay there for a while, he knew you needed it. He shushed the small sorries coming out of your mouth, telling you that you didn’t need to apologize. He only pulled you away when you calmed down completely.
“I’m going to get the thermometer. Stay here, my baby.” and he’s off to grab the thermometer you kept on hand from one of the cabinets in the bathroom, coming back with a concerned look on his face.
He quickly rubbed the thermometer along your forehead, reading out your temperature with a sharp ‘beep!’
“101 degrees.” He sighed. “Baby, if this gets any worse, you’re going to have to go to the hospital.”
Your breath hitches and tears spring to your eyes again, which Minho notices immediately.
“Hey, look at me.” He says, using his pointer finger to make you face him. “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you feel better okay?”
You nod along, resting your body back into his comforting arms as he massages your tense shoulders. He’s whispering small praises as he does this, and you swear you can feel your headache dissipating slowly.
While even though it’s going to be a while before you’re completely better, or even a little bit, you knew with him, it would all be okay.
As long as you have him taking care of you, comforting you, and loving you, you know you’ll be okay.
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#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#skz fluff#stray kids x reader#straykids x reader#stray kids fluff#lee know x reader#lee know fluff
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𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises, mille-feuille…uhm…a macaron too."
Bitter, Sweet
pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, cheating, implied divorce, break up, lovers to strangers/exes, hurt no slightly comfort, reverse comfort summary. he cheated on you for months, and you already knew all about it full menu
Ratio comes home late at night. The air on his skin carries the faint scent of someone else — another man or woman's perfume on him. He enters the apartment, his expression stern and focused on something, not noticing you at first in the entranceway.
When he finally does see you, he looks at you with a flat and unemotional expression, almost as if he is not surprised by the fact that you've been waiting for him. He's cold and distant for a moment, then walks past you, taking his coat off.
Ratio's voice is colder than you've ever heard it before, a sharp contrast from his usual demeanor.
"What are you doing up this late," he asks. There's a touch of accusation in his voice.
He places his coat on a hanger. He looks exhausted and frustrated. Ratio turns to you, and his expression softens just a bit, almost imperceptibly, when he sees your face. His eyes soften, if only for a fleeting moment.
"I could not sleep." You said, looking down for a moment, then looking up, smiling a little.
The hot water you had in your cup was no longer just water, you put tea inside, along with some sugar cubes to give it some sweetness, as you liked so much.
Ratio raised an eyebrow. He looks at the cup in your hands. He's still distant, and his voice is cold and harsh on the surface. But beneath his stoic exterior, there's a glimmer of something deeper.
"Tea this late? Do you have any idea how unhealthy that is?" he inquires, eyeing the cup.
You smile. "It helps me relax," you reply. "Helps soothe my nerves."
Your eyes focused on the tea, the cubes already almost melted by the heat of the tea that embraced them. You gave your fingers a gentle touch to the rim of the cup, tracing the entire round edge gently.
"Do you want some?" You asked, voice calm, looking up to look at him again.
Ratio hesitated for a split second, his stoic demeanor wavering.
“No, thanks." he says finally, his voice losing a bit of its cold edge.
You laughed softly upon hearing his denial of your proposal.
You brought the cup to your lips, taking a sip, the taste was nostalgic while at the same time somewhat bitter.
The silence was tense, you never liked those silences. You never liked it when the house was silent.
You felt his gaze at all times.
With your free hand that wasn't holding the cup, you unlocked your phone, looking at the photos you had in favorites. You and him, fond times, you smiled to yourself when you saw those photos. Until, as you continued passing by, you came across the photo. No, the photos.
Those that made you realize why the house was so solemn and lifeless.
Your expression remained calm at all times, something that internally surprised you but you were grateful, you weren't a fan of drama.
The air around you grew heavy, and the tension in the air thickened.
He saw your expression remain calm, and it was… surprising. It was unlike what he'd expected, considering the circumstances.
You had had the photos for months, you didn't count how many, you just approximated them. Photos and screenshots of conversations, which at first made you repulsive, now only gave you a bitter feeling, like unsweetened tea.
"Do you remember when we were young?" You asked, putting your phone aside.
Ratio tensed at your question, his eyes searching your face for any hint of anger, frustration, or sadness. Instead, he saw a calmness and… resignation. He could not understand that. It was puzzling.
A distant look crossed his face as he thought for a moment, before replying, "Of course, I do."
His voice seemed cold and distant, but beneath that facade was a hint of vulnerability. It was as if he was holding back a torrent of emotions beneath a thin veneer of stoicism.
Memories of younger days flooded his mind, a contrast to the present situation.
You took a sip of the tea, not caring at all about how bitter it was. The sugar didn't dissolve completely, leaving a slight sweetness in the liquid.
"Oh and the time I put sugar in your coffee for the first time and you ended up spitting it out?" Remembering the moment, you couldn't help but laugh lightly. His face all displeased was something you could never forget.
Ratio rolled his eyes "I still remember that." he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "It tasted terrible. Why would you even think of putting sugar in my coffee?"
But even as he said this, there was a subtle shift in his expression, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The memories were like a balm on a wound, easing the tension in the air.
He remembered that moment well, the unexpected sweetness of the bitter coffee causing a comical expression to form on his face. Even in the current tense situation, that memory brought a hint of warmth to his eyes.
"You always had a fondness for sweet things." he responded, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
A smile formed on your face as he mentioned your love for sweetness. "You're right about that," you say, raising the cup to your lips and taking another sip.
You remembered his dislike for sweet things, a contrast to your own fondness for sweets. In a certain way, you completed each other that way.
"But let's be honest," you added. "your coffee did taste better with sugar. I was just helping you discover that."
A small, barely noticeable laugh escaped Ratio's lips. Despite his cold demeanor, you knew how to reach his softer side, to draw out a genuine laugh or smile.
He was silent for a moment, trying to keep his usual serious demeanor. But the memories of those sweeter times reminded him of the person you were, of the bond you once shared.
"At least I didn't lie on the first date saying that you knew how to drink stale coffee."
He paused, remembering how your face instantly grimaced at the unique flavor of that coffee.
"Your face literally contorted."
Your face flushed at the memory of that first date. Ratio's words brought back the memory of that cringe-worthy moment when you tried to impress him by pretending to enjoy a cup of stale coffee, only to recoil at its taste.
"Well, I was trying to seem cool, okay?" you said, shaking your head in slight embarrassment. "But in hindsight, a simple soda would have been a better choice…"
You set the cup down for a moment, taking a breath.
"Do you remember the time we went stargazing?" You asked, a distant look in your eyes.
Ratio's expression softened as he recalled that night under the stars. The two of you had lain on a blanket in a quiet meadow, staring up at the night sky.
His memories of those moments came rushing back — the way the stars reflected in your eyes, the sound of faint night creatures, and the feeling of contentment that had washed over him then.
"Yes, I remember," he said softly. His voice held a bittersweet tone, a mix of fondness and melancholy.
"It was the first time that—"
You cut off his speech. "That you said you loved me…"
His eyes widened slightly as you finished his sentence. The memories of the night filled his mind – the stars, the laughter and the quiet confession of love. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He hadn't realized how much his heart still ached from the recollection of those moments.
Ratio's voice remained quiet as he nodded, his expression hardening again.
"A lot has changed since then," he said, his tone detached.
He knew it, he knew he had done things he regretted. But now it seemed to be too late to think about regrets.
He knew that you were already aware of everything.
The air between you two grew heavy again. The silence that stretched out was filled with unspoken emotions, a web of bittersweet memories intertwined with the present.
"Change is inevitable," you said calmly, your gaze fixed on your tea. "Nothing stays the same forever."
The warmth of the cup in your hands offered a moment of comfort amid the turmoil inside you. "We grow, we adapt, like streams that meander through time."
You gently let go of your grip on the cup. It had stopped being hot, you sensed that it was hot from the touch you had with both hands.
In addition, since the tea was already cold, a few pieces of sugar did not melt due to lack of heat and lack of constant movement with the spoon.
You couldn't finish the tea.
"I really miss those moments…" You whispered to yourself, focusing on Ratio again. You placed the cup on the kitchen table, moving a little closer to him.
He heard your whispered confession and felt a pang of longing in his heart. He knew how much those moments meant to you, and to him too.
As you moved closer, he looked at you, his eyes conveying a mix of emotion – regret, guilt, pain. The air seemed to grow heavier with unspoken words and memories.
The weight of your gaze and the closeness broke through a fraction of his cold demeanor, the distance between you both felt smaller.
"I…"
He wanted to say something, anything, but the right words eluded him.
A heavy silence filled the air, the gravity of regret and longing palpable. Despite everything, your presence stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him.
Your eyes searched his in the silence. "I know," you whispered softly, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air.
The tension in the room was almost tangible as both of you remained silent, the only sound the intermittent rain outside. You moved even closer, your body now only a breath away from his.
And that's where he noticed it, your eyes that he liked to look at so much were red, as if you had cried before.
Your hands rose to the height of his neck. "And that's fine." You spoke, while fixing the collar of his untidy shirt.
It was messy, being a confirmation of the evidence you had on your phone.
Your touch on his neck sent a shiver down his spine. Your touch, so gentle and comforting, contrasted with the heaviness in his chest.
He was caught off guard by your proximity and the sudden realization that you knew more than you had let on.
Ratio's shoulders slumped slightly, defeated.
"How can it be fine?" He whispered back, his voice choked. The air between you both thickened with the unspoken truth. There was no escaping the reality of his actions.
You leaned even closer, You stood on your toes a little to make your forehead touch his. Like two pieces of a puzzle made to be together.
"Everything will be fine."
Ratio remained tense, conflicted between pulling away and surrendering to the comfort of your presence. He let himself go and hunched his back a little, so he could savoring the feeling of your skin on his. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
His chest ached, the guilt and pain of the past weighing heavily on him.
"You're just saying that…" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Your words were also a self-consolation for you, assuring you that everything would be okay. You would be fine.
You moved away a little, separating that touch from your foreheads, placing your feet on the ground completely.
Your fingers traced the outline of his neck, your touch soothing and familiar. As you spoke, your voice was tinged with a hint of sadness and acceptance.
"Everything changes, and we too have grown apart," you confessed softly. "It's natural that we can't stay the same forever."
Ratio felt a wave of guilt wash over him, the weight of his betrayal heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to apologize, to make amends, but the words stuck in his throat.
"I…" He began, his voice choked. The words "I'm sorry" remained unsaid.
Plus he knew you didn't just deserve an apology.
You slowly removed your hands from his neck, placing a thumb on his cheek instead. Covertly erasing a lipstick mark that was near his lips. You smiled bitterly at that, feeling how your emotions betrayed you, making your eyes watery.
The touch of your thumb, wiping away the evidence of his betrayal, sent a jolt of shame through Ratio. He couldn't bear the sight of your heartache, your sorrows.
As he watched you, the pain in your gaze spoke louder than any words. Despite everything, you had tried to understand, to forgive, to accept. His chest ached with a mixture of guilt and regret.
"I wish I could take it all back," he whispered, his voice cracked. His hands gently gripped tightly at his sides. "I wish I could undo it all."
You listened to his words, his voice tinged with sincere regret. The pain he felt was evident, but you couldn't help but feel a bit hollow as you spoke.
Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, the touch a mixture of affection and resignation.
"I know," you replied quietly. " But you can't."
The weight of those words hung heavily in the air. The bitter reality was that some actions could not be reversed, no matter how much anyone wished otherwise.
Ratio's heart clenched at your words, the weight of his mistakes even more palpable. Your touch on his cheek, though tender, made him flinch as if the touch of your fingers burned.
He wanted to reach out, to hold you close, but the guilt and shame held him back. The fear of causing you more pain, the knowledge that he no longer deserved your affection, made him remain distant.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered again, his voice choked.
You let out a shaky breath before speaking. "The stars know how bound I am to you."
You released your grip on his face, this time grabbing one of his hands. Placing something there, something that kept you attached to him in a more official way.
You closed his hand, grabbing it with both of your hands, as if a part of you would leave when you released your grip on them.
AsRatio looked down at his closed fist, he could feel a familiar weight and form through his skin.
Ratio's eyes widened slightly as he recognized by touch what you had placed in his hand – the small engagement ring. It was the same ring that had sealed their mutual promise of eternal love and commitment. The symbol of their love, no matter how rocky their path had become.
The feel of the ring was both a comfort and a dagger to his chest. A reminder of what they had lost.
No matter how vain or material that small object is, a piece of you was going in his hands.
"My heart will always, but always, belong to you, Veritas."
Your declaration was sincere, tinged with sadness and an underlying hope.
Ratio's grip on his ring tightened, the mix of pain and guilt nearly overwhelming him. He couldn't bear hearing your words, the depth of your feelings, knowing he had destroyed your trust.
"Why?—" He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can you say that?"
Ratio's gaze was torn between you and the ring he held, your words striking at his core, a bitter irony he couldn't ignore.
A bittersweet smile formed on your lips at the question that Ratio posed, as if you knew that's how he would feel, how he'd react.
"Love is a complex thing," you said simply, gently squeezing his hand as if conveying your sincerity. "It can't be reasoned with nor controlled."
Ratio's heart ached at your words. He let out a shaky breath, feeling his eyes sting and his heart sink in his chest.
"Oh…please don't cry." With your hand, you wiped away the tears that fell silently from his face.
You were not the most appropriate person to say those words to him since your tears were just about to come out too.
Ratio's tear-streaked gaze met yours as you wiped away his tears with your hand, a gesture of comfort, even though the situation demanded the opposite.
Your attempt to comfort him only intensified the conflict within him. He didn't feel worthy of your sweetness, your kindness. The guilt grew as he saw the pain reflected in your eyes.
"Please don't," he whispered, his voice strained.
You should despise him, hate him, resent him for what he did. You should feel disgusted when you touched his skin, that was touched by another person.
"Hate me."
You couldn't help but let out an anguished chuckle, the sound tinged with sadness and understanding.
"I could never," you whispered back in response, your voice barely audible yet filled with conviction. "I could never hate you."
Ratio's heart ached at your words. He wanted to resist, to push you away, to protect you from his flaws, his mistakes, but your resilience tugged at his innermost feelings.
He closed his eyes, his head lowering to rest upon your shoulder, his face hidden, the ring held tightly in his grip. The tears kept falling without control from his face.
Your eyes closed as he wept silently, his head resting on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, offering a sense of refuge in your embrace.
The silence of the room was interrupted only by the gentle sound of rain against the window and Ratio's quiet sobs.
Your hand gently rose to the back of his head, your fingers gently tracing circles in his hair.
The act was an unconscious attempt to soothe him, to show your support despite everything. Your touch, despite the pain you felt, was like a soothing balm, a gesture of love and care.
"Shh," you whispered softly in between his sobs. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay."
Maybe this was what you needed. What they both needed at that moment.
Your soothing presence, the comforting embrace you held, your hand gently stroking his hair – it overwhelmed his senses, stirred a mix of emotions within him.
He wanted to hold you tighter, to beg you to stay with him, but the guilt and shame held him back. He felt undeserving of your comfort, his self-loathing eating at him from the inside.
You were too good for him.
"Stop it," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. "Stop being so kind…"
You listened to his strained whisper, a hint of desperation in his voice, but you didn't stop stroking his hair.
"Why would I stop?" you replied, your voice soft yet firm. "Despite everything, you are still dear to me."
You leaned your head gently on his, your fingers continuing the soothing motion through his hair.
Just as a good tea ends, leaving a feeling of comfort, leaving a need to have another. You separated from him, knowing that it was time to end this.
"Ratio, listen to me…" You said, making his eyes focus on you and stop avoiding looking at you.
As if hypnotized by your request, his tear-filled eyes slowly found yours. Your voice, so soft yet firm, managed to capture his attention.
He held his gaze on you, his expression a mixture of guilt, longing. The intensity of his emotions was palpable, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, pressing against his chest. He listened intently to your words, struggling to compose himself.
You were weak for a moment, but you really needed the touch of his skin against your skin. At least this last time.
You raised both hands to the height of his face, taking him lovingly between both.
"Please, take good care of yourself." You said soflty, as you gently rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.
You felt your tears brush against your lips as you spoke.
Ratio's heart ached at your pleading words, your soft voice pleading. His gaze held you as if it were their last moment together. Your touch against his face, the last touch he would feel from you, burned his cheeks.
His chest ached, a lump formed in his throat, but he found the strength to reply.
"I…I will." he whispered back, his voice choked with emotion.
His fingers gripped your wrists, holding onto them tightly, a last attempt to stay with you a little longer.
"Good." You breathed out, feeling his fingers tighten around your wrists, trying to hold on to you.
Despite everything, you allowed yourself one last show of intimacy. Promising yourself that it would be the last.
You stood on your toes again, just a little. Getting close enough to his face to leave a soft, short kiss on his lips.
Ratio's breath caught in his throat. As your lips touched his, a mixture of surprise and longing washed over him. He felt your breath on his skin, making him shiver.
The feeling made his heart ache, his body yearned for more. He had missed the touch of your lips. It was a brief kiss, filled with a mix of love and sadness, a bittersweet moment that would be imprinted on his memory forever.
He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, feeling as if time had frozen for a brief moment.
And then, just as quickly as it had happened, the touch disappeared.
As you pulled away, he found himself wanting to lean forward, to keep the moment from ending.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself, and slowly, ever so gently, removed your hands from his face. Each finger, one by one, slipped away from his cheeks, your touch leaving a trail of longing.
Despite your face full of tears, you smiled at him.
As your hands slid away, Ratio's heart ached. He wanted to hold onto you, to pull you back and hold on to that moment.
The absence of your touch made his skin feel cold, as if a part of him had been torn away. As you smiled at him through tears, his chest seemed to tighten, his throat thick.
"Don't consume too many bitter things, give sweet things a second chance." You said, laughing a little as you wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. "Not excessively of course."
As you laughed softly, Ratio felt a mix of emotions stirring within him. He was aware of the irony in your words, knowing that you referred to his preference for bitter coffee.
You had always nagged at him for his love of bitter flavors, suggesting that he give sweet things a second chance.
A weak smile formed on Ratio's lips, a sad attempt to follow your playful tone.
"Just a second chance, hmm?" he replied, his voice low and pained.
He couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. The bittersweet humor in your message, the subtle reference to their past together, carried a bittersweet weight. The weight of memories shared, of a love that had suffered, but still burned brightly deep within them both.
Your heart felt heavy as you watched him smile weakly in response to your words. The guilt and pain were evident on his face, and the sight of him trying to hold back his own emotions only made your smile falter, tears still streaming down your cheeks.
"Yes, just a second chance." You repeated softly, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady.
His attempt at following your banter hurt you. It felt like a cruel reminder of how things used to be, how you both used to exchange playful remarks.
Silence descended upon the room again after a moment. Ratio's eyes focused on you, taking in your every feature, as if trying to memorize your face one last time.
The silent words of “I love you,” left your lips. Before taking two steps back.
As you stepped back, Ratio's eyes widened momentarily, his heart skipping a beat as you said those three silent words.
His mind was flooded with a mixture of emotions, the love and the guilt, the longing and the regret. He yearned to reach out to you, to hold onto you.
Yet his feet remained motionless, his body frozen in place.
But, despite that, he couldn't help but respond. "I love you too." The words came out silently.
In a way, his words brought comfort and happiness. Something you didn't know you were looking for.
You didn't just let out a soft smile, then you exhaled the air you had been unconsciously holding.
"By the way, there is no more sugar." You spoke to him for the last time, as if this had never happened, as if he had never found out anything to you, as if you were still the same loving young people as before.
Then you entered the guest room of the apartment. You would leave the next day, since due to the rain you would not be able to do it now. But you would make sure he didn't find out what time you left.
No more sugar.
Ratio's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words. It was a lighthearted remark, a final gesture. His heart ached at the simple mention of something so trivial.
He let out a small chuckle, his mind racing.
It was a final, bittersweet moment, a reminder of the love they once shared and the bitter reality that now separated them.
As you retired to the guest room, Ratio stood in the room, his eyes fixed on the point where you had disappeared from view.
The silence was deafening, his heart full of conflicting emotions. The sound of the rain and the clock hanging on the wall were what mocked him. He wanted to hold onto you, to prolong this moment, but somehow… your sudden normalcy made him feel a little calmer.
He sought the longed-for consolation in the ring, grabbing it with both hands, as if it were his most precious possession.
Because it was. Now that was a most precious possession.
He left a soft kiss on the ring that belonged to you for years. Without following you. He would let you go if you were calmer and happier.
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#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio#hsr x you#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr fanfic#angst no comfort#dr. ratio x reader#dr. ratio x you#dr ratio angst#veritas ratio x you#hsr veritas#veritas ratio x reader#veritas ratio#ratio#Spotify#veritas x reader#𐙚nanaswrites𓂅
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the way you love
pairing: george russell x reader
summary: loving george russell is as easy as breathing sometimes, especially with the way he loves you. loosely inspired by stardust by zayn. (2.8k)
a/n: welcome to the first of four holiday fics! i'm hoping to post one a day until christmas eve, so stay tuned :)
Maybe you should’ve waited inside for George to pick you up.
Granted, you haven't been out here long, and you know he’ll be here soon, but it’s cold. Frigid wind whips your hair around your face, scraping over your skin harshly.
You nuzzle a little deeper into your scarf in a poor attempt to protect your cheeks.
The two cardboard cups clutched in your hands do help a little with the biting cold. One for you, one for George, both filled to the brim with steaming coffee from the little shop down the street from your building.
They’ve rolled out their holiday cups today, as noted by the festive little scene printed across the sleeve. It makes you smile, and you think George will probably like it too.
George’s sleek car pulls up in front of you with a gentle rumble not long later. You’re expecting him to be smiling when he gets out, but when his head pops over the roof of the car, he just looks concerned.
“Blimey, have you been waiting out here the entire time?” He exclaims incredulously, rounding the front of the car quickly.
You barely have time to nod before he’s easing the cups out of your grip. Only once they’re secured into cup holders inside the car does he grab your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to breathe a little warmth back into them.
“Didn’t want you to have to wait on me,” You say, as if it’s any excuse to have been standing in the freezing cold. Really, you just wanted to see George as soon as he came to pick you up. You’ve just seen him only last week, but it feels like forever.
“Darling, it’s freezing,” He reasons. He’s smiling now, despite the attempt to keep his firm composure.
You frown. “I missed you.”
He kisses you instead of answering, short and sweet, but still bursting with affection.
“Hi,” You say softly, nuzzling deeper into his broad palm after he pulls back an inch or two. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, bringing some more much needed heat back into your skin. You won’t tell him, but your nose had been starting to lose a bit of feeling.
“Hi. I missed you too,” He replies, fondness dripping from his tone.
“Yeah?”
“Of course. Longest five days of my life.”
That makes you grin even harder, pushing forward for another quick kiss. “Mine too.”
“Glad we feel the same.” He looks very pleased. “Shall we get a move on? We’re a little early, but I know how much you hate being late to things. I even told Alex to expect us early.”
You’re set to head to Alex Albon’s Christmas party in a little bit. George goes every year, but this is the first time you’re going too. You’re excited, nervous, and a little bit scared at the prospect of finally getting to meet all of George’s friends at one time. You've met a handful of them individually, gradually, George happily introducing you as his girlfriend every time, but never in such a large social setting like this party.
You aren’t quite sure what to expect, but if the ones you haven’t met are anything like the ones you have, you’ll be just fine.
“And what did he say about that?”
“That Lily is relieved someone competent is coming round to help out, so I’d say he’s pretty okay with it,” George says, chuckling. “C’mon, let's get you out of the cold.”
You allow George to help you into the car, letting out a comfortable sigh at the blazing warmth of the car interior. George has always liked to keep your shared spaces running hot despite your wishing for the opposite, but for the first time ever, you’re actually grateful for your boyfriend’s temperature preference.
“Nice, isn’t it?” He teases as he climbs into the driver’s seat, nudging at your shoulder. “See, I told you you’d come around someday.”
“Only because it’s cold as shit outside,” You huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I got you coffee.”
“Thank you, darling. Though I wish you hadn’t sacrificed your health to do so.”
“I know you had another late night yesterday, thought you might be tired. It’s fine, really, I didn’t mind,” You insist, shaking your head.
“You’re very sweet,” George says softly, leaning over the center to press a kiss to your cheek.
You’re not sure what comes over you, but you turn at the last moment so he catches your lips instead. He lets out a noise of surprise, but has no hesitation in kissing you back happily, slipping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer.
You kiss and kiss and kiss until your lips start to tingle, and even then, you’re reluctant to pull away. There’s something intoxicating about kissing George that makes you want to do it forever.
“If we stay here any longer, we might actually end up being late,” George murmurs. He blinks at you, long lashes fluttering open and shut slowly. His breath fans across your skin on every exhale, cologne invading your senses until all that surrounds you is him.
“That would be bad.”
“Mm, awful,” He agrees. Still, he doesn’t make any attempt to pull away, perfectly content here, hiding away with you in the coziness of your close proximity. His nose drags along your cheek, lips following the path until he reaches the corner of your mouth.
You exhale shakily. “Alex and Lily are expecting us.”
“They are.”
“So we should go.”
“I mean, we don’t have to…” George trails off, letting his head tilt to the side.
“Yes, we do. Someone roped us into helping with party prep.”
He sighs rather heavily, handsome features screwing into overdramatic annoyance. “Starting to regret that right about now.” That makes you giggle. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”
“There’s that holiday spirit!”
The drive over to Alex’s is fairly short. It actually takes more time to make yourselves presentable and not at all like you’ve just been making out in the car, before making your way up to Alex and Lily’s. George has brought presents for both of your friends—a watch for Alex and a bottle of perfume for Lily, he’d informed you in the elevator, bought by him, but a gift from the both of you.
The door swings open with a blast of music and the smell of something delicious not seconds after you knock. Alex stands just behind it with a gracious smile on his face and a flute of something bubbly in hand.
“Hi, welcome—oh, thank god you’re here,” He breathes. Then he stops, stares at the two of you for a few moments, as if he’s studying the both of you. A knowing smirk quirks his lips right after. “George, you’ve got lipstick on your chin, mate.”
George’s hand flies up to his face, rubbing furiously. His cheeks have flushed an embarrassed pink at his friend’s smug observation.
“I’m just kidding. But it was funny to see you panic,” Alex snickers.
“Ha ha, hilarious. Maybe I won’t give you this gift after all.”
Alex takes both boxes eagerly, tucking them under his arm with a wink. “Come on in, friends.”
The flat is decorated tastefully—festive, but not gaudy. You assume Lily had done most of the decor rather than Alex.
Speaking of—
“You’re here!!! Thank god!” Lily exclaims, barely paying George any mind before she whisks you away, chattering away immediately, wanting your opinions on everything from the appetizers to the seating arrangements at dinner. You cast a helpless glance over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who merely gives you an amused wave back.
You do what Lily tells you needs finishing up until the rest of the guests start to make their arrival. Most of the other drivers are in attendance, save for a few who’d opted to spend the holidays home with their families. Charles and Carlos are here, Lando and Oscar, Yuki, Pierre, Zhou and Franco, to name a few.
The bundle of nerves in your chest starts to unravel as more familiar faces trickle in, and you’re able to catch up with a couple of them. You’re chatting with Kika and Pierre about what’s new with Simba when a hand touches the small of your back.
Instantly, you know it's George. His touch is the only one that sends butterflies through you. That’s never happened with anyone else before, but with George, you feel alight with a certain energy every time.
You lean back into him on instinct, tilting your head up to look at him. His cheeks are slightly rosy, hair still perfectly coiffed, save for one curl that has escaped to hang over his forehead. You reach up to brush it back and he smiles, sliding a hand around your waist.
“So sorry to interrupt, you lot. Just wanted to pop in and see if anybody needed a refresher on their drinks,” He offers, though his gaze rests solely on you.
“Thank you, but we’re good, mate,” Pierre replies, as Kika shakes her head to decline too.
George says your name, lips lifting into a small smile as he juts his chin at your nearly empty glass.
“Thank you, Georgie,” You say gratefully. “Don’t forget to—”
“Make it sweeter? Yes, I know how you take your drinks, darling,” He hums, kissing your cheek quickly before retreating with your glass.
“You’ve trained him well,” Pierre teases, winking at you.
“I think he was born that way,” You admit.
That isn’t a lie. According to George’s sister, who you’d had the pleasure of meeting a few months back, he'd always been very kind, very caring, even when he was young. It’s one of the many qualities of his that has you falling in love with him a little more with every passing day.
George leaves you to your own conversations after bringing you your drink, but you see him periodically throughout the night. He always looks like the life of the conversation, talking animatedly, listening with rapt attention when he’s not yapping away.
Even as he’s listening intently, it’s like he can sense you’re looking at him, because he finds you almost instantly, sending a smile or a wink your way. That’s another lovable quality of his—knowing where you are even when he’s not with you. Like you’re two magnets being pulled towards each other at all times.
The more you chat with everyone else, one thing becomes obvious. George talks about you a lot. Not enough to be obnoxious, but he's mentioned you to many of his friends.
Charles knows you’ve been looking into learning how to play the piano because George had asked him something about which pianos were the best. Yuki offers up a few cooking tips because George had mentioned you wanted to try your hand at a new dish. Lewis congratulates you on a big project you’d finished at work a while back, telling you that George had been singing your praises in the garage right after you'd called.
If you look back at it, George has always been one of your biggest supporters.
Always wanting you to call him whenever something big happens because he can’t be there all the time, always doing things for you when he’s away so you never for a moment feel like he's not thinking of you. Sending you flowers, ordering you food from your favorite spot in Monaco even though he's a thousand miles away because he knows it’ll make you smile. Even just texting you a picture of something he saw that made him think of you.
George makes you feel so, so loved, all the time. Like, wherever you are in the world, no matter, everything will be okay because you’ve got him. You could be on some far off deserted island in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the land to live off of, but if George is there with you, it wouldn’t be all that bad.
Sometimes you wonder what your life would’ve been like if you’d never met him, but you never get far with those thoughts. You can’t even imagine what life would look like without George Russell. And honestly, you don’t really want to.
“Ready to head out?” George’s voice draws you out of your thoughts, and when you refocus, he’s right in front of you, holding out your coat. For a moment, you can only stand there, blinking back at him like you’ve just laid eyes on him for the first time ever.
He falters a little under your intense staring. “Darling? Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Sorry, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just…tired, I think.”
“Let’s go home then. Stay the night at mine?”
“Duh,” You say. Your obvious tone makes George chuckle a little bit as he helps you slip into your coat.
“How silly of me to even ask.”
After finding your hosts to thank them for the great evening and subsequently being invited for a game of doubles padel with them one of these days, you're off.
“I don’t have any skin cleanser,” You say suddenly, just as George has pulled onto the main road.
“What?”
“At your place. I don’t have my cleanser, the one I always use before bed.”
“The one in the little green bottle?”
“Yeah.” You frown, slumping back in your seat. In hindsight, it’s really not the biggest deal in the world, and you’re not sure why you’re making it one. But for some reason right now, you’re focused on it.
“Lucky for you, your wonderful boyfriend bought a bottle just in case this happened. He figured you’d probably forget it one of these days.”
“Is there a reason my wonderful boyfriend is referring to himself in the third person?” You giggle, shifting in your seat to face said thoughtful boyfriend. George’s cheeks are flushed a little pink.
“Yeah, I thought it was a little weird too. Anyways, there’s a bottle in the bathroom cupboard.”
“Thank you, Georgie. You’re always so thoughtful.”
“Y’know, you could just move in with me. That way you won’t have to worry about not having things at mine anymore.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he speaks, but you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously. “You’ve already got loads of stuff there anyways, why not just bring it all? You wouldn’t have to drive across the city every time you come over, for one.”
“I barely drive to yours anyways, you know. You always insist on picking me up,” You tease. George smiles, but you can tell he’s serious about wanting you to move in with him. You sigh, squeezing his hand. “Babe, I’d love nothing more, but…I could never afford to live with you.”
“I’m not going to have you pay rent or anything like that, darling. I wouldn't ask that of you.” George’s nose wrinkles, like it’s absurd of you to even think about it. “Just your company would be more than enough, honestly. Make the place less empty, more like…home.”
You can already imagine it. Falling asleep next to each other every night, waking up tangled together every morning, getting to come home and unwind with each other after long days. Breakfasts and afternoon teas and dinners you’d make together in George’s massive kitchen. Your stuff mingling with his in every room of the place.
Maybe you’d adopt a pet together one day, one that could keep you company every time George was away for races.
“Okay,” You say softly. You’ve already convinced yourself. “Let’s live together.”
George pulls to a stop at the red light, taking the opportunity to lean over into your space and kiss you gently. “Let’s do it, darling.”
Taking the next step in your relationship seems daunting, but George will be there to soothe any anxieties you have. He always is.
“Oh no! We forgot about the coffee.” He frowns, plucking the still full cup out of the holder suddenly. Then he shrugs, taking a giant sip of it. “Cute cup.”
“George, it’s cold!” You exclaim, tugging at his sleeve. “Just throw it out when we get home.”
“It tastes fine!”
“It’s probably stale.”
“I think it’s delicious.”
“You’re so weird.”
He chooses to ignore the muttered quip, letting a giant grin stretch his lips instead, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You called it home.”
“Well, it is now, isn’t it? Or will be soon enough.”
“Sure will. I’m thinking we move you in tomorrow.”
You chuckle, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “I have to get out of my lease first. It might take a while too, my landlord is kind of an asshole.”
“I’ll give him double whatever you’re paying right now to let you out of it early. No, triple.”
“I don’t think he’d appreciate bribery, but he is a Mercedes fan.”
“Paddock passes and VIP club access to Monaco next season, done.”
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#george russell#george russell x reader#gr63#gr63 x reader#george russell x fem!reader#george russell x you#gr63 x fem!reader#george russell fic#george russell fluff
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Waking up | Kylo Ren x Reader Smut
Waking up | Kylo Ren x Reader Smut One Shot. 18+. MINORS DNI.
Word count: 1.17K
Content warning: fem!reader x Kylo; zero plot just smut, piv (unprotected), a bit sleepy I guess?, fainting mentioned
Author’s note: This is a 'hey, I'm alive' short shot (although I do have a cold). Next part of Insufferable in the works, meanwhile I hope you enjoy this one ;)
Y/N woke up in the middle of the night.
She didn't remember much. Last night, there was a fight, a scramble with the Resistance somewhere at the base, and she fainted amidst the chaos. It was Kylo who took her into his own arms and, after Y/N had been checked by the medics, brought her to his own chambers. She came to in his arms, and slept in them later on, feeling safer than ever before. It was their first time feeling each other's bodies up close, and despite the exhaustion of the battle, other things did come to their minds. After a day they both spent on exchanging tense glances, as if unsure if they should act on their desires, she fell asleep again… But not for long.
Kylo was sitting in the armchair next to the bed with his shirt open, reading something on his datapad despite the late hour. When he saw her stir, however, he immediately set it aside.
"Finally," he said with clear relief, setting the black, silky sheets aside. Y/N slowly rubbed her eyes, trying to make them work after the nap. She almost felt like she woke up in another dimension.
"Come here," he said quietly, then kissed her gently on the lips as if waking the Sleeping Beauty. Y/N smiled at that, but she knew it was barely scratching the surface. Such light kisses were not what Kylo was known for.
"Do you ever sleep?" she asked as she kept on rubbing her eyes. Kylo let out a short chuckle and soon enough, his hands were on her, unable to stay at his sides.
She suddenly felt him starting to unbutton her shirt. She didn't oppose, quite the contrary - she was grateful, because she felt like she was sweating excessively from the heat of the nap, and yet her pounding head remembered that she had absolutely nothing on under her shirt.
Kylo seemed to have noticed it at the same time. When she felt that nothing was covering her chest anymore, she heard his heavy breathing. It happened and she couldn't even hide behind her hair. Y/N almost jumped when she felt his icy cold hand between her breasts. He didn't even have his gloves on.
"Don't worry, you're safe… Can you breathe normally?" he asked with genuine concern, so different from his usual demeanour.
"Definitely not now," she replied, gasping for breath. He felt her heart beating beneath his hand and he couldn't explain why he couldn't take his hand away. He moved it slightly to the left breast, which had consequences for both of them.
The excitement surged through them with redoubled force. Y/N unconsciously tightened her grip on the sheets, lifting her legs just a little.
"Your heart is beating too fast," Kylo gasped, and then she finally managed to open her eyes. Kylo's huge frame was leaning over her, without his helmet, and he was piercing her with such eyes that made her feel small and completely exposed.
"If you keep on doing this… It will," she looked at his hand, still on her bare breast, "it will beat even faster."
Another shiver ran through her, and a strange, tingling sensation appeared in her lower abdomen. Kylo slowly, with little pressure, moved his hand from her breast, along her belly, to the waistband of her pants. He pulled it down and, although she couldn't see it from her position, it was too low for any decency.
The situation was clear to both of them: the tension that had been growing between them for a long time was finally going to explode. He froze in that position for a moment.
"Do you feel okay?" he whispered.
She looked at his hand, then back at him with a soft smile.
"I do… But you could make it better."
A new wave of excitement washed over both of them as Kylo climbed back onto the bed and hovered over her.
He used the Force to take her clothes off of her after she gave him an encouraging nod. Soon, there was no turning back. She lay before him, fully exposed, shackled by so many emotions she couldn't shake off. Something stirred in Kylo as he stared at her shamelessly, admiring what he had revealed. He had been thinking about this moment ever since he met her years ago.
He raised both of his hands to place them on either side of her, keeping himself comfortably above her. He could see that she liked it as she ogled him from underneath, trying to catch a glimpse of his partially exposed chest.
When Kylo lowered himself to kiss her once again, everything around them disappeared. Flesh began to rub against flesh, and their hearts began to beat in the same rhythm. Y/N buried her hands in his hair, and with one hand he lifted her by the waist, holding her as close to him as possible. When the frenzy subsided enough for her to regain some rational thought, after what felt like an eternity, she tore her mouth away from him and pulled his head towards her.
"I want you, Kylo," she whispered straight into his ear. She made Kylo feel things that he never thought were possible.
He moved closer to her ear, brushing his lips against it and whispered, "You'll get what you want."
He removed the hand that was supporting her waist and moved it to her right knee. He slowly moved one of her legs to the side, then did the same with the other. There was another burst of emotions, and she clutched the sheets again. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to move.
He used the Force again, this time to get rid of his own pants. Y/N knew he was ready and she couldn't wait. Everything else was forgotten, the only thing that mattered to them was the other person. Kylo moved his hand under her waist again to lift her a little, and placed his other hand on the headboard of the bed. He lowered himself, she moaned, and the clock struck midnight. He filled her up to the brim, much larger than she was, able to hold her like a doll. She didn't even expect him to feel half as good as he did.
Kylo waved a hand, putting out all the lights in the room. Their other senses went crazy. He couldn't believe the effect her moan had on him when he jerked forward for the first time. The lack of light captured the imagination of both of them, stirring the blood in their veins.
No one could hear those heavy breaths, moans and whispers, the rustle of the sheets, not even the moon was a witness to them, hidden somewhere behind the clouds from which white fluff was falling. It was just the two of them, darkness and pleasure like they had never experienced before.
And Y/N had a feeling it wasn't the last time she could wake up to this.
#kylo#kylo ren#kylo ren smut#kylo ren x reader#kylo smut#kylo x reader#star wars#ben solo#ben solo x reader#ben solo smut#Star Wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#smut#kylo ren fanfiction#one shot
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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.
chapter two:
<last chapter> <next chapter>
➴ warnings: none <3
➴ word count: 2.5k
➴ author’s note: this is pure fluffiness, the calm before the storm, the hughes being the best family in the world and jack making my heart MELT (i literally wrote him). i hope u guys enjoy this too. let me know what u think of this one:))
“AND that, my loves, it’s a wrap on ‘rip to my feelings’!” Grace yelled, and everyone yelled too.
You were in your studio with all of your producers and song-writers, plus Grace, and you had just finished recording the last song on your album.
You were beyond happy. Finishing this meant getting over everything Harris did to you. It was like closure. It was like restarting again.
“Guys, I’m so fucking happy, I love you all so much I could kiss you on the mouth right now,” you said, hugging John— the main producer.
“Don’t think Jack would appreciate that,” Grace mumbled when you hugged her, and you smacked her butt.
Jack.
You had sent him the demo of the album as soon as it was sent to your phone, not really sure why. You just wanted his opinion, that’s all.
Not much fuck buddy of you but whatever!
“Fuck off, Grace Morgan,” you fake whispered, laughing.
You all celebrated and laughed for hours, the time passing quickly whenever you spent it with the people you loved. You were grateful for having so many amazing people in your life, helping you to make your dreams come true.
Your phone rang, and you picked it up, unlocking it and smiling when you saw who had texted: Jack.
It was funny seeing how he complimented you in his own little, weird way. It made your heart beat in the wrong— right— way all over again.
“Did he just ask you on a date?” Grace whispered, probably reading your texts over your shoulder. Everyone else had already left— it was late, after all— and only Grace was left. You were sure she was probably going to sleep at your place anyway.
“I guess? We never just ‘hanged out’ before.” You sighed, replying to Jack’s texts.
“Woah,” she whistled, sitting back on the couch, looking at you funny. “Are you in love?”
“What?” You laughed, locking your phone. “What do you mean, we’ve been fucking for six months only. Chill.”
“Girl, like time matters to you!” She raised her arms. “You fell in love with that piece of shit in like three weeks, imagine with Jack, who fucks you every other week and treats you like you’re the most precious thing ever.”
“Excuse me? Are we talking about the same Jack?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Jack doesn’t treat anyone differently. Besides his family, that is.”
“Like the shit he does for you isn’t anything special, right? Like knowing your Five Guys order, or your favorite movies, or how you eat apple pie before your concerts,” she started listing those things on her fingers.
“He doesn’t know those things!” You raised your voice, trying to convince both you and her.
“Girl, I love you but stop playing dumb. He knows and you know he does! Why are you pretending that he doesn’t care about you? He just asked you on a date, for fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes.
“First of all,” you started, mentally listing your reasons. “We don’t know if it’s a date. He just said: dinner. He didn’t say ‘I wanna take you out on a date’. Second of all, I’m not denying anything, but I think I would know if I was in love with him, wouldn’t I?”
Actually. The answer was probably no. Harris fucked up your perception of love, and even though it’s been more than a year that you broke up with him, you still feel like you can’t really trust anyone anymore.
So you wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you are in love or not. At least, you don’t think so.
But talking about love with your fuck buddy? Hell. No.
“You piss me off.” Grace bickered, turning the TV on. “Go change to your little date. I’ll be here, all alone and sad.”
“Pff, shut up. You’re just alone because you and Nico are dumbasses.” You said like it was a matter of fact and left the leaving room, leaving a very pink Grace behind.
Changing didn’t take long, and applying a light makeup didn’t either. You weren’t going to do anything special because, let’s be real, if you and Jack decided to be reckless and fuck somewhere, that makeup wouldn’t last long. So, why bother?
You left your house, saying goodbye to Grace and kissing her cheek. Jack’s fancy ass car was in front of your garage and you smiled, entering it.
“Hi, Jackie boy,” you greeted him, noticing how fucking good he looked, wearing his burgundy suit. Thank god to whoever created the suit rule in hockey. You’ll forever be grateful.
“Hey.” He greeted back, and did something surprising. He kissed you. Softly, and not like any other kiss you’ve shared in the past.
And that didn’t do anything to help the little cardiac arrest you had every time you were around him.
“Are we ready to rock our lasagna?” You asked, half embarrassed and half confused with what you were feeling. Food always made it better though.
“We sure are.” He smiled before starting the car again.
The silence was comfortable but your thoughts were too loud so you took the liberty of turning the radio on, scaring yourself with how loud the music playing was. And, shockingly, your music. Already Over was blasting through the speakers.
You looked at him, and he just shrugged, cheeks red.
“Were you listening to my music on the way to my place?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s good,” he blushes so cutely you find yourself wanting to chomp a piece of his cheek.
“You’re so cute, Jackie. Thanks, means a lot,” you had a feeling you were blushing too, and you thanked God he wasn’t looking at you. “I’m excited to release it.”
“When are you doing it?” He asked, making a U turn.
“Beginning of the next month. Now I have to take pictures and set up the concept for it. It’s my favourite part.”
“Are you doing any music videos with a guy dying?” He asked and you stared at him, once again surprised. Had he been watching your music videos? All of them? “What?”
“Are you a fan?” You giggled, genuinely happy. Harris hated to talk about your work, and he never listened to your songs for more than ten minutes.
“Nico forces us to listen to your songs and watch your music videos,” he answered, nonchalantly. You smiled, nodding your head. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” You played dumb.
“Like that. You have this little minx stare that you do whenever you’re plotting something.” He smiled this time, and God if the sight didn’t make you feel full.
“You’re no fun,” you sighed, looking at the view. “Also, where is this restaurant? We’ve been driving for at least twenty minutes and nothing in Jersey takes more than that.”
“The restaurant is actually my parents’ house.” He says, like it’s nothing.
“What?!” You yelled, turning your head in his direction. “What do you mean you’re taking me to your fucking parents’?”
“Yeah. Ma’s making lasagna for you.”
Your cheeks were burning hot and you had this bubbly feeling inside of you. You were feeling something really weird and you started to wonder if Grace was right and—
“Soph?” You heard his voice, gentle and soft. You looked at him, noticing that he wasn’t driving anymore, and that the car was now parked in front of a big, beautiful, colonial house. His parents’ house. “We can go back if you want to, baby. Ma won’t be angry or anything like that.”
Stop making me want to trust you, Jack.
He caressed your cheek, and you snapped out of it. “No, it’s fine. I just… you could’ve said something, y’know? I’m wearing sweatpants.” You tried to make a joke, smiling. He smiled too.
“I’ll put on some sweatpants too, so we’re matching,”
“Right.”
You left the car, taking a deep breath. It was just his parents. You weren’t even dating so it would be fine.
Wait.
“What did you tell them? That you’re bringing one of the girls you’re fucking home?” You asked just before you walked in their property.
He raised an eyebrow at you, scowling. “First of all, I’m not fucking anyone else. It’s just you. Second of all, I told them I’m bringing a friend.”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to do anything else.
He’s not fucking anyone else? Jack Hughes? The man whore of the NJ Devils?
Yikes, sure.
You both walked into the house, Jack not bothering knocking before entering it. A delicious smell of fresh tomato sauce and herbs reached your nose and you could swear your mouth was watering.
“Ma, we’re here!” Jack yelled, making you jump a little bit. You eyed him before facing the woman in front of you, who was absolutely gorgeous. She looked so fucking young and pretty, and you were biting your tongue, trying not to say something stupid. “Hi, Ma, this is Soph. Soph, that’s Ellen, Ma Hughes,”
“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. Nice to meet you.” You said, certain that your cheeks were on flame.
Ellen took a step closer, smiling. “Hi, darlin’. No need for formalities, dear, it’s just Ellen. I would hug you but,” she pointed at her apron and shrugged. “A bit dirty.”
“Thank you for having me.”
“No, thank you for making this guy over here visit me,” she slapped Jack’s shoulder, both of them smiling together. “He only called because he said you wanted to eat lasagna and he loves mine so that’s why he’s here.”
If your face wasn’t going to melt before, it definitely was now. You were going to kill Jack. For real this time.
“Come on, Ma, I can’t be worse than Luke and Quinn. They don’t even remember your address anymore,” was Jack actually pouting? Jesus. Your heart was not ready to see that.
“Stop throwing us under the bus, dickhead.” Luke’s voice was heard and you and Jack both watched as both Quinn and Luke entered the room. “‘Sup, Soph.”
“Hi, Luke. Hi, Quinn,” you greeted them with cheek kisses, not even wanting to acknowledge that you had actually missed them. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, Soph,” Quinn quietly answered, not a single thought behind those eyes. “Great to see you.”
“I hope you’re all hungry because your mom outdid herself tonight,” Jim, the dad, said, smiling when he noticed you. “Hello there. I’m Jim.”
“Hi,” you whispered, mortified with all the attention you were getting. Some would think that performing for big crowds would make you less anxious to meet people. Nope. “I’m Sophia. Thank you for having me.”
“It’s fine, as my baby was saying, we do need our son to visit more.”
As they discussed why Jack didn’t visit them more frequently, you felt Jack’s arms around your waist and his mouth on the tip of your ear. You froze. “Yeah, they call each other baby and honey. Sorry about that.”
You managed to smile, trying not to get his family’s attention. They certainly wouldn’t understand why he was this close to a friend.
“I think it’s cute.”
The dinner went awesomely well. The lasagna was amazing and Ellen and Jim were the cutest couple ever, you could see how they’ve raised three amazing men.
They asked questions about what being a postar meant nowadays, and what was it like during your tours, and how could someone sing and dance at the same time, and have you ever met Adele?
They’re great people. Even Quinn and Luke, who had talked to you before on different occasions, made sure you were included in every topic, and Luke even asked for a signed cap so he could wear it at UMich.
“Do you guys know what we should definitely do?” Ellen started, after forcing all of the boys to organize the kitchen and do the dishes, while you sat with her drinking wine. Yeah, you loved her. “Karaoke. Let Soph here show us how good she is.”
“Maa,” you could hear Luke whining, while running his hands through his beautiful curls. “You do this every time.”
“You’ll make her work on her day off? That’s wild, Ma.” Jack joked, putting his arms around your shoulder. You froze again, looking at the expressions of his family, trying to picture anything out of place.
No one was looking at you weirdly, besides Ellen who plastered the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, which made you smile too.
“I don’t mind singing…” you said, softly.
“Perfect!” Ellen stood up from her seat, pouring more wine on her glass. “Jim, set the karaoke thing on.”
“It’s called YouTube, Ma.” Jack rolled his eyes.
“Leave your mom alone, ugly face,” Jim called him out, on his way to do exactly what Ellen asked. “Sophia, can you sing some Elvis?”
“Yes, ‘course.” You also got up, discussing with Jim which song he wanted you to sing.
“Tell her to sing our song, honey!” Ellen yelled from the dinner table.
“Ah, yes, yes.”
Turns out that their song is Can’t Help Falling in Love, which was so freaking sweet. You sang the romantic lyrics while Jim and Ellen danced with each other, swinging slowly and delicately.
Quinn and Luke were recording themselves with you singing in the background, while you waved happily to the camera.
Jack was sitting on the couch, watching you sing. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, smiling whenever you’d hit a high note or change the song’s rhythm.
It was nice. So, so nice. The Hughes were such nice people and you felt so safe and adored around them. They asked you to sing more songs and when you noticed, you were singing an upbeat song with Jim and dancing between Quinn and Luke while Ellen filmed everything. Until Jack grabbed you again and made you sing in front of him, for him. And boy, how you wanted to kiss him. His blue eyes were shining brightly and he looked just as happy as you felt.
You ended the singing when it was around midnight, everyone exhausted and sweaty— even if it was winter.
You started saying your goodbyes and thanking Ellen and Jim for the best lasagna you’ve ever eaten and for the hospitality too.
“I hope you come back soon.” Ellen whispered in your ear when you were hugging her, and you held her slightly tighter.
When you left the house with Jack, you couldn’t contain your happiness inside you. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him until you were near his car, and standing on your tiptoes, you kissed him.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, both of you moaning inside each other’s mouth. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, pillowy and so soft. You were finally melting into Jack’s arms and nothing could be better.
Until you realized what was going on.
You had just had dinner with Jack’s family, sang and danced with them, and now you were in the middle of the street of a fancy neighborhood, with Jack Hughes holding you close to his chest, while devouring your mouth.
And instead of not feeling anything, instead of keeping things casual, you were feeling everything. Each tiny part of every emotion there is in this world were making their way into your heart and, unfortunately, you didn’t want to take them out.
Because for the first time in more than one year, you wanted to feel.
#jack hughes#jack hughes x singer!fmc#jack hughes x singer!reader#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x oc#jack hughes fic#jack hughes x reader#IYLMLMK
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SUMMERTIME — nanami kento
synopsis: it’s nanami’s year to host the annual summer barbecue— but will it go as well as he planned?
warnings: nanami kento x fem!reader, gojo is a lowley a dick in this one, brief mentions of jjk 1st and 2nd years, fluff, nanami not trying to kill gojo for 5 mins challenge go!
author’s notes: heyyy im back from the dead! honestly life has been so busy but im glad to be back for now, im just cleaning out the drafts!
“please dont—” nanami calls out but it’s too late. the sound of his porcelain vase shattering on the ground cuts him off.
at this point nanami knew that this would happen. in the days leading up to the annual summer barbecue, you’d heard your husband whisper, yell and mumble every expletive in the book.
you know he didn’t mean to curse so much, it was just the stress of planning everything getting to him. it was also the fact that he often tried to separate his work life and his home life. he’d refused to do overtime when you had dates planned and he often booked days off to work around your schedule.
the separation between his home and work life made his life less stressful, knowing that you were kept away safe from the evil world of curses and jujutsu made the harder days more bearable.
“sorry nanamin!” the pink haired teen called out, flashing one of his usual smiles that could probably let him get away with murder. nanami waved him off seemingly unfazed.
at first things were going smoothly.
drinks were flowing, the kids were either playing or swimming in the pool and his fellow co workers were chatting away on the patio. for a second nanami could breathe until the smell of acrid smoke wafted in the air.
he forgot he left gojo on patties and hot dogs duty.
“gojo did you just burn the hot dogs and patties?” nanami asked calmly, simultaneously going over the relaxation techniques you’d taught him in his head. nanami wasn’t quick to anger by any means but when gojo came into the equation, it was almost instinctual.
nanami couldn’t throttle gojo in front of his colleagues and students. what kind of impression would that make?
he figured that they would understand nonetheless, almost everybody here had thought about doing the same thing, it’s just that he’d be the first to actually do it.
“nanamin this is no way to talk to your elders!” gojo berated him, shaking his head profusely for dramatic purposes only.
“i thought you’d know better manners than that.” gojo replied, feigning disappointment.
in any other situation nanami would apologise for his supposed lack of respect but when these words were coming from the mouth of a 28 year old, over powered man child, his comment was like water off of a duck’s back.
“i don’t care, you better fix this,” nanami replied, his voice low and threatening.
he did not want to disrupt the lively atmosphere of the barbecue because of one idiot’s mistake. he slipped some money into his hand, hoping that a few gojo free minutes would lower his blood pressure.
he spotted you talking to shoko and utahime by the pool, looking gorgeous as ever in your blue sundress. you were throwing your head back in laughter as shoko made a funny joke.
god you were still beautiful as the first time he met you at a party that celebrated the merger between the two companies you worked at.
he remembers it as if it was clear as day, whilst everyone was networking and socialising with each other, you stood off to the side of the room like a wallflower and from the way you kept zoning out whilst several conversations were happening in your direction.
he knew he found the one in you.
the only person who’s social battery drained faster than his. nanami was and still is forever grateful for the slight buzz that the complimentary champagne had given him, as it gave him the liquid courage to talk to you.
and now five years, a wedding and a beautiful home later, nanami still looked at you with so much love and affection as if everyday was the first day he met you. he was extremely lucky to have you in his life.
“i’m sorry ladies, i need to borrow my wife for a second.” he said politely as shoko raised her hands in mock surrender, giving him a cheeky grin. by no means did he want to pull you out from the conversation you were having, he was happy that you jelled well with his colleagues.
“she’s all yours nanami, don’t worry about it.” she patted his back playfully as her and utahime walked off in an another direction with their drinks in tow.
he knows he’s being awfully clingy right now, pulling you away from what seemed like a good conversation but he just wanted a brief moment with you before he had to deal with everyone’s shenanigans again.
in the back he can see nobara and maki hustle everybody in an intense game of poker, shoko and utahime purposely accidentally blowing smoke into gakukanji’s face to piss him off or to probably send him into an early grave.
“would i be a terrible host if i kick everyone out right now, hm?” he pulled you into his chest, your presence having a calming effect on him.
nanami could die here in your arms. in an instant the sensory overload he was currently experiencing was immediately quietened by just being here with you.
you rested your hand on his chest, the blaring testament of nanami’s love for you sitting pretty on your ring finger. the ring cost a pretty penny that nanami was all the willing to spend, even going the extra mile to buy lab grown diamonds for you.
“i think they’d be more understanding if you fed them first,” you joked, looking over at the grill that was currently missing from the action. “speaking of…where is the food?”
by reading his facial expressions, it didn’t take much to deduce that a certain white haired and blue eyed sorcerer had a role to play in all of this.
it was common knowledge that gojo wasn’t a good cook by any means. that part was really solidified last year when half the staff was out sick because he decided to experiment with his food on one friendsgiving evening.
“c’mon babe, chill out have a drink or two. you’ve been so uptight all day.” you suggested, offering him a reprieve from his host duties. nanami couldn’t say no to a pretty face like yours, especially when you were looking at him like that.
he eventually gives in, grabbing a bottle of beer from the cooler. it’s not his favourite drink of choice but he figured that it would do for the time being. nanami relaxes under your touch, his heart rate and breathing becoming more slowed and even.
you forget how much work aged him, even though he says that it’s the most fulfilling job that he’s had. the wear and tear of being a sorcerer definitely added years onto him despite him only being 27. a vacation is definitely needed for the both of you, a long one preferably away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
protests come from the partygoers who are eagerly awaiting the food. yuji and nobara proclaim that they’re gonna die without food that earns an eye roll from megumi, who has gotten accustomed to his friends dramatic tendencies.
gojo arrives on cue with a terribly awkward ijichi who profusely apologises for their lateness. nanami quickly gets up and helps put the bag of food away before telling ijichi to grab a drink and chill out by the patio. he feels bad that gojo made him work on his day off because lord knows after dealing with gojo 24/7, a break is definitely needed.
“you’re a lazy sack of shit.” nanami tells gojo as he begins to plate up the food for the kids, handing out plates to the kids as they come. gojo plays dumb, as if he wants to ruffle nanami’s feathers even more.
maybe it was a rich kid or only child thing hell, maybe it was a mix of both but as much as gojo claimed his childhood wasn’t like one of those “super rich, super spoiled kids”, it did show in his mannerisms and body language. for example his attitude towards the mundane like doing the dishes or laundry. someone was always doing something for him.
“what do you mean?” he asks, feigning ignorance. nanami wasn’t going to give him the reaction he wanted, choosing to be blunt as hell. someone had to bring him back to reality one way or another and unfortunately the task befell on him.
“you made ijichi come in on his day off, just to drop off some food.” gojo groans in annoyance. trust nanami to turn everything into a teaching lesson. it wasn’t his fault the food was heavy and in his eyes, this wasn’t work, this was merely ijichi helping him run an errand as a good friend does.
“if he didn’t want to go with me, he would’ve said something, right ijichi?” he calls out to the younger man, who stills at the sound of his name being called. he meekly nods, not wanting to be dragged into this mini argument between them both.
“still doesn’t change the fact that you’re still an ass.” nanami still relented much to gojo’s dismay. his expression changing once you came over, the hard lines on his face softening as he spoke to you.
gojo thought it was adorable as hell that nanami was a complete softie for his wife, a complete contrast from the stoic exterior he displayed on the field. he knew that deep down nanami had a big heart—it was evident in the way he always looked out for the students and the other sorcerers.
you placed a kiss on his cheek, poking fun at how red he turned from the moment before walking off, food in hand. gojo leaned in closer to make a cheeky remark but was immediately silenced with a burger being shoved into his mouth.
“shut it.” nanami muttered before going over to join you on the loungers. gojo was stunned, he was too busy trying to work his way through the layers of bread and meat to process what just happened.
nanami was too busy enjoying his time with you to care about what gojo’s next plan of action was. however he mentally drew up a scoreboard that brought a sense of satisfaction for him.
this week:
nanami 1
gojo 0
#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento x y/n#nanami x y/n#vina writes#nanami kento#vina writes: jjk#jjk fluff#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk nanami#jjk x reader#nanami x black!reader#nanami loves his wife yup!#nanami kento x you#gojo is annoying asf in this my bad 😥
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