#so now I just have to sit here and hope it doesn’t happen again

[foodiegoogie]

pahinga (rest)

remus lupin x fem!reader | 1.7k

summary: remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. cw/tags: self-deprecation, slight anxiety (?), three little eepy bois and one (1) insomniac, peter pettigrew appears (he’s not corrupted here), hurt/comfort <3 note: 'pahinga' means rest in filipino. its root word, 'hinga,' means 'to breathe/breath.' the 'pa' part can make it literally mean, 'let me breathe.' also, u can never have too much “reader patches up remus after a full moon” fics 🥰🥰 p.s. the vibes are inspired from isa lang (only one) by arthur nery <3

It’s way past midnight in the Hospital Wing, and Remus knows this because his friends are knocked out around him; James is sprawled out like a starfish on a cot to his left, Sirius laid asleep at the edge of Remus’ own cot, and Peter had long since made himself comfortable in the cot on the right, curled up in a blanket. 

Usually, they’d be up late with Remus. Something about boys being boys, having an endless amount of energy surging within themselves. But they were also only human at the end of the day, despite being unregistered Animagi. 

Remus also knows that he should be asleep himself alongside his best friends, but this particular night had taken a toll on him. Sure, he’s had full moon nights happening every month, every year, ever since he was turned at four years old. But regardless of how frequent they took place, it never became easy to deal with for the lycanthrope. Especially not now while he’s unable to sleep.

Poor Madam Pomfrey—she’d given Remus countless potions to aid him in his condition, time and time again. But it seems like even the Sleeping Draught that was brewed for him earlier just couldn’t work on him either.

Thinking about failing to fall asleep is ironically keeping him from falling asleep. Remus Lupin is, quite frankly, stressing out about not being asleep yet. He knows he needs it, so why can’t he do it? He almost feels immensely envious of how easy it was for his own friends to have fallen asleep quicker than he did, and he was the one who turned into a werewolf that night. 

Remus turns his head to get a look at Sirius’ slumbering face where it lay at the edge of his cot. Sirius is a handsome being, whether asleep or not. But right now, his wide-awake friend doesn’t know whether to be glad because he gets to appreciate his friend’s company because he’s asleep, or if said friend should be frustrated for the very same reason.

Before Remus even gets to decide however, he hears footsteps scurrying towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. He perks up at the sound, attempting to sit up in his cot but failing, wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

He doesn’t know which comes first: the sound of the double doors being pushed open or the bags of chocolate falling to the ground, coming from your arms.

Remus’ bleary eyes flicker over to your incoming presence - how he knows you’re here for him is needless to say with the bags of chocolate you’re re-gathering in your arms presently. He sees you throw an apologetic glance, mouthing “sorry,” but Remus receives it with a lazy smile, more amused and fond than it was teasing.

“Hope I didn’t wake them,” You whisper to him as you approach his cot, looking warily at the three slumbering boys surrounding him. Remus feels compelled to follow your gaze towards them, address that you didn’t actually wake them (and he’s certain that you didn’t, the lads sleep like a log), but his eyes remain on you as well as his smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He murmurs.

You scoff quietly, giving him an incredulous look. “What, not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ You’ve changed, Lupin.” 

Remus’ smile widens at your words, the familiar banter bringing a lighthearted feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his fatigue mixed with frustration that’s making him feel lightheaded, but he finds himself momentarily entranced by the sight of you as you start to near him in his cot. The moonlight which filtered through the windows finally landed on your features, and Remus was convinced at that moment that he’s met an angel in person: you.

“Anywho, I come bearing gifts,” You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, setting down the array of chocolates beside him. Remus shifts so that there’s more room for you in his bed.

He looks down at the sweets, the corners of his lips quirking up into a lazy smile, then looks back up to you. 

“Dark or milk?” Remus asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look to which the boy grins at. “Milk, duh. I’m not dumb, Remus. You only go for dark when you’re feeling fancy.”

It’s true; Remus doesn’t like dark chocolate as much as he likes milk chocolate, which is a classic and a whole lot sweeter than the former. He tries not to think too hard about how you knew that about himself like it was just sitting casually in the place of your mind. He wonders, then, about what else you knew about him, and took care to remember and save for times like this. His heart races at the thought. 

“Did you come all the way here to butcher me for my taste in chocolate? Flattering, really,” Remus quips, reaching for one of the chocolates.

“No. I came here to do just that and more actually,” You mirror his actions, unwrapping the chocolate from its plastic shell, popping the whole treat in your mouth all in one go. 

It’s a lot more attractive than Remus would like to admit - you being so unapologetically yourself, uncaring about being seen as prim and proper. Here you are, sitting in front of him, munching on the chocolates you’ve brought him and looking like a squirrel stuffing nuts in its mouth for the winter. Adorable, he thinks.

But then your eyes narrow at him, and he’s caught in the act of shamelessly staring at you. It’s only then that he realizes that he has been staring at you. “See something you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows suggestively, reaching for another chocolate from the dwindling bunch on the bed.

“No,” His voice comes out a little breathy, an octave a tad higher than what’s normal. Remus clears his throat. “Just- it’s amazing how you keep going.” You pause mid-bite into another chocolate drop, putting it back inside its plastic wrap with a sheepish smile. “Right, I brought these for you. Not for me.” “S’alright,” Remus smiles fondly at your suddenly shy expression. “I couldn’t finish them all by myself, anyway.”

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, shoulders relaxing from his reassuring words. Even in such a state, Remus still goes out of his way to make sure people are cared for in his own, heartwarming ways. But rarely does he ever take the time to inflict the same kind of treatment to himself. 

And, speaking of which—

“I thought you’d be asleep, you know,” You blurt out all of a sudden, fidgeting with the unwrapped, uneaten chocolate in your hands. “coming here. So… why aren’t you?”

“Dunno,” Remus lets out a deep sigh, his fatigue finally coming through in his expression. Your chest tightens at the sight and sound of it.

Finally, he finishes, saying, “I just… can’t.”

Almost instantly, a knot forms between your brows at the same time the corners of your lips turn downwards into a slight frown. Remus hates being pitied. He’s had enough of people apologizing on his behalf, as if he had been a mistake in the first place long before he was given this unfortunate tragedy, a weight he has to bear on his shoulders for the rest of his life. 

But with you, it’s never pity that he sees in your eyes when you look at him. It’s something warmer, something that’s coming from a deeper place of intent. Something like care—genuine care, and concern. Perhaps there’s more than that, but Remus is already dizzy enough as it is right now, and he doesn’t want to render himself unconscious just because he’s feeling a little lovesick by you. 

“Oh no, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” You say, and Remus is a bit startled by it. You don’t notice. “Should I leave? I– I feel like I should leave—”

“No, no. Just—” Stay.

Remus reminds himself to be very careful with his next words, lest he betrays his true feelings and ruins one of the few good things he has in his godforsaken life. 

Another thing that he hates is owing people something, or anything really. It’s no big deal for him to go out of his way and be the giver rather than the receiver out of a pair, but it bothers him to no end to think that he’d actually have people do something—anything just for him. 

For some reason, it just feels… wrong for him. Almost as if Remus believes that he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. 

But for the love of Merlin, he’d really like to get some sleep, and he really likes you being here with him. And if you walked right out of the Hospital Wing right now, leaving him alone, Remus is certain that he’d be getting no sleep at all. 

So, just this once, he’ll be selfish. 

“Just… just talk to me. Tell me about your night.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, a slightly amused smile coming alive on your face as you ask, “My night? Well, my night’s going pretty well right now.”Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his true emotions. “Tell me about your day, then.” 

Now, a full-blown grin takes place on your face. “Now that I can do.”

And so, you start telling him about your day in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud as you recount something that had made you happy during the day so as not to wake the other three boys you’re surrounded by. 

Far along the way as you’re speaking to him, your hands—yours and his—drift closer and closer to each other. Remus wonders if you notice this, even as you’ve taken ahold of it now and started to play with his fingers absentmindedly.

Before he knew it, he was on the way to dreamland by the ticklish yet gentle feeling of you tracing the lines of his palm, coupled by the soft timbre of your voice, low and sweet. 

It is then that Remus realizes that he finds his absolute rest in you. 

A shame that he managed to miss the featherlight kiss you leave on his forehead as you bid him a good night, though. 

aaa thank you for reading! (づ￣ 3￣)��� as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated !! <3

[dephoraowo]

I feel like some people in the fandom need to go read a dictionary because where on earth does the novel even show Wei Wuxian having a hero complex?

The novel literally shows the opposite:

The suction from within Biling Lake was growing progressively more powerful. While Wei Wuxian’s sword excelled in dexterity and agility, a lack of strength just happened to be its weakness, and it was forcefully pulled to lower and lower altitudes until it was close to the surface of the lake.

Wei Wuxian steadied himself while yanking on Su She with both hands, shouting, “Somebody come help! If I can’t get him up, I’m gonna have to let go!”

And this:

“Stand back,” Lan Wangji said. “You are not needed here.”

Wei Wuxian humbly took his advice and backed off. He backed all the way to the entrance and took a peek outside. Wen Ning was in the middle of stoically strangling Song Lan, lifting the man by his neck and slamming him into the wall, creating a giant man-shaped hole in the process. Song Lan, also expressionless, seized Wen Ning’s wrist and flipped him over, crashing him into the ground. Loud, incessant bangs and booms accompanied the battle between the two stone-faced fierce corpses. Neither side could feel pain, nor were they afraid of injuries. Unless they were cut to pieces, they could keep fighting no matter how many limbs they broke.

“There doesn’t seem to be a need for me here either,” Wei Wuxian mumbled to himself.

If the fandom is so desperate for a guy with a hero complex, they don't even need to worry. We already do! In fact, mxtx was so generous, she literally gave us two!

Wei Wuxian was observing the terrain as he fled around, setting off flames. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his arm. He looked down to see he had been shot by an arrow.

As it turned out, the Lan sect disciple whom Lan Wangji had glared at earlier had found a bow and arrow abandoned by the Wens and tried to shoot at the yao beast. Perhaps because of the beast’s fearsome savagery and agility, the boy’s hands were panicked and unsteady, and the shot had flown astray and pierced Wei Wuxian instead.

Wei Wuxian had no time to pull it out. He struck the ground again, calling forth another surge of flames.

“Back off! Don’t make more work for me!”

The sect disciple had wanted to fell the yao beast with a single shot to its vital spot, in hopes of regaining some of the face he’d lost earlier. Who could’ve thought it would turn out like this? His face flushed progressively paler as he fled into the water.

Let's not forget this scene:

Before walking away, Wei Wuxian repeatedly exhorted him to sit still and not to move. At least they weren’t too short of money—he had a habit of hiding small change in various corners of his clothes, which came in handy now. He walked around and bought food and dry rations to prepare for the long journey ahead. It took him less than an incense time to grab everything, after which he immediately returned to the spot where they’d separated.

But Jiang Cheng was gone.

...

Jiang Cheng struck a palm at him. The strike was so weak and feeble that Wei Wuxian did not even sway.

“Hit me all you want. As long as it makes you feel better.”

“Did you feel it?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Wuxian was momentarily taken aback. “What? Feel what?”

“My spiritual power. Did you feel it?” Jiang Cheng pressed him.

“What spiritual power?” Wei Wuxian asked. “You didn’t use spiritual power at all.”

“I did.”

“What exactly… What did you say?”

Jiang Cheng repeated himself word for word. “I said, I used it. I used all my spiritual power and then some for that strike. So I’m asking you—did you feel it?”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, falling quiet. After a moment, he said, “Try hitting me again.”

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng told him. “No matter how many times I hit you, the result will be the same. Wei Wuxian, do you know why Core-Melting Hand is called that?”

Wei Wuxian’s heart sank.

“Because his hands can dissolve golden cores and render the victims unable to form new ones,” Jiang Cheng continued. “Their spiritual power will dissipate, reducing them to nothing more than ordinary humans. And an ordinary human in a cultivation clan is good for nothing. They can only live out the rest of their common lives, abandoning all dreams of ever ascending higher.

“Wen Zhuliu dissolved Mom and Father’s golden cores. Once they lost the ability to fight back, he killed them.”

Wei Wuxian’s mind was in turmoil. At a loss as to what to do, he murmured, “…Core-Melting Hand… Core-Melting Hand…”

Jiang Cheng laughed grimly. “Wen Zhuliu, Wen Zhuliu. I want to seek revenge. I have to. But how can I? I don’t even have a golden core anymore, and I’ll never be able to form a new one again. So how am I going to take revenge? Ha ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…”

Wei Wuxian’s legs gave out from under him. He stared at Jiang Cheng, who seemed to have gone insane. Words failed him.

No one knew better than him just how competitive Jiang Cheng was. How much he valued his own cultivation and spiritual power. And with a single strike, Core-Melting Hand had shattered his cultivation, self-esteem, and hope for revenge to smithereens!

Jiang Cheng howled with laughter like a madman. He lay back down on the bed with his arms spread open and abandoned himself to despair. “Wei Wuxian, why did you save me? What’s the point of saving me? To let me live on uselessly while I watch the Wen dogs run rampant?”

...

Though awake, he remained motionless, not even flipping over and asking where they were. He wouldn’t eat or drink. It was as if he was interested only in dying.

“Do you really want to die?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“I can’t get revenge even if I live, so I might as well die. Who knows, maybe I can even turn into a malicious ghost,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You’ve gone through Soul-Tranquilization Rites since you were a kid. Even if you die, you won’t turn into a malicious ghost,” Wei Wuxian commented.

“Since I can’t seek revenge dead or alive, what difference does it make if I live or die?”

After that, Jiang Cheng didn’t speak again.

...

Jiang Cheng’s mind and face were both racked with confusion. “Then why was I able to pull it out?”

“Because the sword recognizes you as Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning answered.

Lan Wangji stood up, lifting an unconscious Wei Wuxian on his back.

“What do you mean, it recognizes me as Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “How?! Why me?!”

“Because the golden core presently channeling spiritual power in your body is his!” Wen Ning snapped back, even harsher.

...

“Your golden core was never restored,” Wen Ning said. “It was completely dissolved by Wen Zhuliu! The reason you thought it was restored was because my jiejie, Wen Qing—the best doctor of the Wen Clan of Qishan—cut Wei-gongzi’s golden core from his body and used it to replace yours!”

Jiang Cheng’s face went blank for a second. “Replaced mine with his?”

“That’s right!” Wen Ning said. “Why do you think he never used Suibian again, and never carried his sword with him when he went out? Was it really because of some youthful indiscretion? Did he really enjoy it when others spoke ill of him behind his back or to his face, saying he was rude and had a poor upbringing? It was because bringing it along would be pointless! You see…if he brought his sword along when he was invited to those banquets and Night Hunts, there would inevitably be someone wanting to duel or spar with him for whatever reason. Without his golden core, he had no spiritual power. If he drew his sword, he wouldn’t last long at all…”

Jiang Cheng stood dumbly rooted to the spot. He looked queasy, and his lips quivered. He even forgot to use Zidian as he suddenly dropped Suibian to the ground and struck Wen Ning on the chest with his hand.

“You’re lying!” he bellowed.Wen Ning was forced a couple steps back from the blow. He picked up Suibian from the ground, sheathed it, and pushed it against Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“Take it!”

Jiang Cheng unconsciously took the sword. He didn’t move but looked at a loss as his gaze turned toward Wei Wuxian. He would have been fine if he hadn’t looked. But when he did, Wei Wuxian’s despondent expression and ghastly pale face—with blood still gathered at the corners of his mouth—was like a hammer smashing his heart. Moreover, Lan Wangji’s gaze chilled him so keenly he felt like he had plunged into a frozen cavern.

“Take that sword and go to the banquet hall, the drilling grounds, anywhere,” Wen Ning said. “Order everyone you come across to pull it from its sheath and see if anyone can! Then you’ll see if I’m lying! Sect Leader Jiang, you…you are such a competitive person. All your life, you have been competing with and comparing yourself to others. But know this—you could never have compared to him!”

...

Out of the blue, Lan Wangji asked, “Is it painful?”

“What?” Wen Ning said.

“Extracting one’s core. Is it painful?”

“Lan-gongzi. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you no, would you?”

“I assumed Wen Qing would have found a way.”

“Before going up the mountain, my jiejie prepared many anesthetics in hopes of alleviating the pain of extracting his core. But later, she realized such medication would be completely useless. If the subject is in a numbed state when the golden core is extracted from the body, it affects the core’s stability. It becomes harder to prevent it from dissipating.”

“…Therefore?” Lan Wangji probed.

Wen Ning pausing in his rowing. “Therefore, the subject of the golden core extraction procedure has to be completely conscious for its full duration.”

He had to be conscious as he watched his golden core be cut from his meridians and extracted from his body. He had to feel his surging spiritual energy gradually subsiding, calming, turning ordinary—until it became a pool of stagnant water that could no longer make waves.

It was a long time before Lan Wangji found his voice again. It was a little raspy, and the words he spoke seemed to tremble. “Its full duration?”

“For one day and two nights,” Wen Ning said. “He remained conscious throughout.”

“At the time, how confident were you of success?”

“About fifty percent.”

“Fifty percent.” Lan Wangji soundlessly drew a deep breath and shook his head. He repeated, “…Fifty percent.”

His hand tightened its hold on Wei Wuxian’s waist, gripping so hard his knuckles turned white.

“After all, no one had ever conducted any sort of core-swapping procedure before,” Wen Ning said. “My jiejie had written essays on the subject, but they were only theoretical. No one would ever let her experiment on them, so the theories remained untested. The sect’s seniors said she was indulging in flights of fancy, that the idea was completely impractical. They knew no one would ever be willing to extract their golden core and give it to someone else—because if they did, they would be fundamentally crippled. They would never reach the pinnacle of their ability but would remain mediocre the rest of their life.

“So when Wei-gongzi returned to seek us out, my jiejie was reluctant to even attempt the procedure, at first. She warned him that writing an essay was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. She wasn’t even confident she’d have a fifty percent chance of success.

“But Wei-gongzi kept pestering her. He said fifty percent was fine; the chances of success and failure were equal. Even if it didn’t work out and his core was wasted, he wasn’t worried about his future—but that wasn’t the case for Sect Leader Jiang. He was too competitive, too focused on what he stood to gain and lose in this aspect, since cultivation was his life. And if Sect Leader Jiang could only ever be an ordinary, mediocre person, his life would be over.”

Definition of hero complex:

A hero complex, also known as a saviour complex or hero syndrome, is a psychological phenomenon where a person seeks recognition for being a hero. Hero complexes can be detrimental to the lives of others and put innocent people at risk.

A person with a hero complex may:

- Create situations where they can be the hero and resolve them

- Take responsibility for problems that aren't theirs to solve

- Offer unsolicited advice

- Overstep boundaries

- Strive to be the ones to save the day, no matter the odds or situation

In the examples above, we can clearly see that Wei Wuxian knows his own limits. If there is something he can do to help, he will help. HOWEVER! He will not help if he knows that it isn't within his own capabilities because there's a chance that, if he fails, he might ruin the situation further and make things worse than it is! And I know people will be using this as a refute, so I will also say it here. Wei Wuxian will not make risky decisions UNLESS THERE IS NO OTHER CHOICE! None of the novel's textual evidence mentions any kind of instances in which he acts "recklessly" with his own life in a situation where any other action other than risking his life would have achieved the same or better results. If there are safer options, he will not make such decisions.

This is the direct opposite of Su She and Jiang Cheng. Su She was clearly trying to save face by killing the Xuanwu of Slaughter, "playing the hero," but he failed, either due to lack of skill or just not in the right headspace, and made things worse.

In Jiang Cheng’s case, I honestly don't know why he distracted the guards. Did he do it out of love, or was he just trying to "play the hero?" I say this because the novel didn't even say that the guards spotted Wei Wuxian. It just says they were patrolling around the area. If he did it out of care for Wei Wuxian, why didn't he take responsibility? If he really did try to save Wei Wuxian from the guards, why was Jiang Cheng not willing to live with the consequences? Did he not expect to be captured by them? He overestimated himself if that's the case. And he made things worse for Wei Wuxian because after that stunt of his, he just wanted to die. Not only that, he literally made his own sacrifice into Wei Wuxian's problem. And how could Wei Wuxian, who had just promised Jiang Cheng's parents to take care of him, let him die like this? So Wei Wuxian was forced to give up his core to give Jiang Cheng a reason to live. (Honestly, Jiang Cheng could still live as a normal person. He could still lead the clan as a normal person since a clan follows bloodline. Doesn't matter if he is competent or not, core or no. We literally have Jin Guangshan leading the Jins for goodness sake, does that man even know how to fight? Jiang Cheng just can't stand being an average dude, which is so ironic because in Wei Wuxian's second life, he literally became an average dude, even with a core. Man couldn't even defeat Jin Guangyao.)

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 6

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss?

Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. chapter warnings/ tags: embarrassing situations, porn, thigh fucking, teasing, Joel snoring.

“Hey! I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Jeeeeesus, I feel like such an asshole.” Joel is speaking fast and with apologies all tethered to his words. “I’m real sorry. I left my phone n’ keys in my brothers truck after he dropped me off from the bar last night. Feel like a dick. Didn’t get my shit back ‘till just now when he dropped ‘em off t’me.” Joel sighs loudly. “I’m sorry. Hope yer’ not mad at me.” He sounds fretful. Worried.

“No. Not at all. I get it. Shit like that happens.” That does come out of you very casually. 

“I got worried as hell when you didn’t text or call. Nothin’. I thought fer’ sure you were gonna think the worst, block my number. Never talk t’me again.” Joel chuckles nervously. 

“Nah. I was hanging out–”

“Readin’ yer’ spooky stories?” Joel asks before you can finish and now… you might be in love with him. Fuck. 

“Yeah… I was actually.” You smirk against the phone like an idiot. 

“You wanna… come read ‘em here? I just watch football on Sunday… but, I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to just come, I dunno, sit in my lap and hang out. Could smoke, drink a lil.” Joel speaks quietly and almost bashfully. You dunno.

You’ve done worse things in your life behind the wheel of a car, okay? You’re not even drunk. Not even a little. Nope. Feel bad for driving under the influence? Absolutely. But, you’re fine. You took your time packing your lil spend the night bag with your stuff for work tomorrow because he said you should stay the night. Okay. You’re calm and cool. Not overly excited. You brought your laptop so you could comfortably read your ‘spooky stories’ aka real life murders that have taken place. Joel is so cute. Fuck.

When you get to Joel’s house it’s almost two in the afternoon. You guys still have most of the day to spend together and hang out before you have to really go to bed. No more all nighters. Neither of you were children. He’s sitting on his front porch in one of those nice wooden rocking chairs. He has two of them. They’re big and sturdy and look kinda cozy, actually. He is at your door, opening it for you before the truck is even off. He doesn’t let you get out, he runs his hands along your thighs as you turn to face him in an attempt to jump down. 

“Sorry.” Joel smiles up at you apologetically and continues moving his hands up and down your legs softly. 

“Should be.” You tease him but lean in and give him a small, fast kiss. He hums happily in response and holds his hand out. You go to put your hand in his but he pulls it away with a sucking noise on his teeth. You pinch your brows together at him and he holds his hand out again, saying nothing. You look and he wants the two bags you have in your hand. 

“Lemme carry ‘em.” He says after a second you you hesitating. You eye him up and down. 

“Why?” You’re not suspicious or anything. You know he’s being a gentleman… you just… dunno. It’s weird. 

“Y’serious? Really?” Joel grabs the bags and the gentleman leaves him as he abandons you in the truck and starts towards the house. You roll your eyes and follow him inside. He’s walking upstairs already and you’re chasing him up, touching the backs for his thighs and his ass and he’s swatting your hands away. 

“S’no fun, is it?” You tease him and squeeze his ass playfully through his jeans. He jumps and glares at you over his shoulder. 

“S’fun when I do it to you.” he grins as you get to the top of the stairs. “Real fun.” 

“Oh, I bet it is.” You grin back at him as he walks into his bedroom. He sets your bags on his bed and turns to you. 

“Football’s on. Wanna come sit n’ smoke with me while I don’t pay attention?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

“Why wouldn’t you be payin’ attention?” You bat your eyelashes at him and smirk. 

“‘Cause my team sucks— what do you mean?” Joel gives you his goofy, dumb smile and wraps an arm around your waist. “I am real sorry. Feel bad y’probably waited up fer’ me n’ I didn’t call. I sat here all night just feelin’ bad.” Joel whispers before he kisses you softly. “Don’t wanna make y’sad.” 

“I wasn’t sad.” You lie. You lie so hard because you’re not gonna let him know you were sad. You don’t get sad over boys. You already cried once because you thought he went home after he ate you out. No. He won’t know it. 

“Well good. I’m glad y’weren’t cryin’ in bed. I don’t want ya doin’ that over me.” He kisses you again softly. You kiss him back but are thinking about a casual way to ask if he’s interested in marrying you really quick. You just wanna know what it feels like to be married to him and then everything can just, go back to normal. 

“I was a lil disappointed but, I didn’t let it ruin my night.” You lie again.  Joel smiles and kisses your forehead now. 

“Good.” Is all he says. “Get yer’ spooky stories n’ lets go smoke n’ I have a bottle of somethin’ downstairs.” He smirks as he walks towards the door but he waits for you. You grab your laptop and follow him down into the living room. He has a nice big, brown suede couch and a matching recliner. An ottoman to put your feet on. A table on either side of the couch. You set your laptop down and follow him into the kitchen just so happy to be here and be with him. You weren’t expecting to see him ever again. So, this is exciting. You’re not trying to hide that. You want him to know you’re happy to see him. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday after you dropped me off?” You ask as he grabs a cup and a decently priced bottle of whiskey and sets them next to each other. 

“I did. Groceries n’ normal bullshit. Had to get my laundry from the cleaners.” He explains. 

“You don’t do your own laundry?” You are slightly entertained by this for some reason. 

“Hell no.” Joel shakes his head and grabs ice from the freezer. “Haven’t done laundry since Sarah moved out.” He’s chuckling now as he puts the ice in the glass. 

“Did you… make her do your laundry before that?” You squint your eyes at him. 

“Hell no.” Joel says again but he laughs now. “I did mine n’ she did her own when she got old enough.” He laughs and pours whiskey into your glass half way and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Do you need… a coke or somethin’?” He says it with a wrinkled nose. You laugh at him. 

“Are you a whiskey snob? If y’are… I got a good story for ya… it’ll piss ya right off.” You smirk and lean against his counter. “I do want a coke.” You grin. Joel groans loudly and goes back to the fridge. 

“Let’s hear this good story, lil girl.” Joel rolls his eyes and doesn’t sound amused already. 

“You ever heard of The Reach—” You start but Mr. Miller finishes. 

“81? I sure have. Why? Y’know ‘bout it?” He pulls his head back from the fridge and stares at you with heightened eyebrows. 

“I do. Have you ever had it?” You ask curiously. Joel shakes his head no but stays quiet. “There is some back at my house– Cody is a huuuuuuge whiskey guy. I had no idea. None. Just thought it was like… expensive, ya know?” You nod at him and he nods back and then frowns before you can finish. 

“You put that into a Coke?!” Joel is so upset with you. So hurt, and so disappointed. 

“I didn’t know how much it cost!!” You exclaim.

“Almost more than my house!!” Joel almost shouts at you but it’s funny. “Jeeeeesus.” He shakes his head in disappoint again and pours Coke into his semi-expenisve whiskey and groans. 

“Oh god. Guys and their shitting on things girls like.” You sip your drink as he rolls his eyes. 

“I’d shit on anyone who did that.” Joel grumbles at you but is pulling you into the living room. He sits right beside you on the couch and hands you your laptop. “Let’s see these scary stories you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He sighs and puts his feet up on the couch. He says it like you ran in here trying to show him this blog. So excited about it. You smirk and open the laptop. 

As the screen resumes the last internet browser page you were on… you snap the computer shut and do absolutely nothing else. Nothing. You freeze but you know what he saw. You were looking right at it… with him. So. You both know what you saw. He’s silent. It’s just very quiet minus the TV in the background. Finally, after so long of no talking and not even looking at him or moving, even… the man speaks. 

“What…what was that?” He asks very curiously. You’d be curious too, if you were him. You are dead on this couch. The first person to ever die of real embarrassment, honestly. You forgot what you did before you cried yourself to sleep in bed last night. What you used this computer for… You’re going to pass away right now. This is…not happening. No. Can’t be. 

There is no way that the last browser you had open on your computer was a fucking porn website. And… porn is so normal, Joel probably would have laughed about it with you but what you had in the search bar… and what you had pulled up on the screen wasn’t alarming or even unnatural. No, not at all. So natural. Two natural bodies. A man and a woman… 

The man… might look like Joel… a little bit. And the girl… might look like you… a little bit. The search bar definitely didn’t have the words ‘hot gray fifties man younger girl’ in there. No. It fucking can’t. You are trembling. He’s not going to see the search bar. No. Only you know what you typed in last night but the resemblance between those two actors and yourself and Joel are… uncanny. Honestly. You were… so excited when you found it– kind of nervous because for two seconds you thought Joel made a porn with you while you were sleeping. The two people were not you guys. Looked a lot like you guys though. Just enough differences and also too many fucking similarities for it to not do what you wanted it to do. So, that’s even more annoying. It didn’t even work. You were too upset about being not ghosted. So. You’re dumb and embarrassed. 

“Hey, what was that?” Joel asks after what feels like an hour of you just looking at your closed laptop. 

“N–”

“Don’t say nothin’.” Joel barely lets you even start. So. He knows. 

“What did it look like?” You ask, snapping your head to him now. He has the smallest smile on his face, leaned in trying to see the screen you snapped shut. You wonder right now if Cody would buy you a new laptop if you smashed this one. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll buy himself $125,000 scotch though. So. Cool. You swallow hard.

“Uh… it kinda looked like me?” Joel flicks his eyes between your closed computer and your almost tearful eyes. You’re not crying. Just haven’t blinked in eight minutes. 

“That’s crazy you think that.” Is all you can come up with because you’re stunned that this is happening to you right now. Joel shakes his head in bewilderment. 

“I know what I saw.” He points to the computer. “Open it.” 

“No.” 

It’s a standoff… a staring contest… a who can hold their breath the longest competition. You lose and blink first and when you do— Joel takes the computer from you, so quickly. You didn’t think that’s what he was going to do. You freeze and Joel freezes too, his hands are about to open it. 

“Do y’wanna show me yer’self or… do I need t’look?” Joel is smirking over at you. It might be less worse if the computer is in his lap and not right in front of you. You can at least not look then, feeling less shame for a moment until he shames you himself. 

“Do it.” You whisper, shielding your eyes from the monstrosity that is about to unfold. Nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing. You know this. It’s just going to fucking make him way to happy. Way too happy. Like when you told him your sex toys didn’t do what he did to you. UGH. 

“Y’sure?” Joel raises one brow at you. 

“I’ll… never open that computer myself.” You speak with no emotion because he’s already doing it. It takes three seconds for the screen to come to life. 

There it is. Joel’s fucking body double… railing some fucking twenty five year old. Hard. You turn away. You can’t look and see what he thinks of this. It’s too much. You hear the computer keys click and then the video starts to fucking play. Loudly. It’s…porn sounds. Moaning and skin slapping together. This guy is talking dirty. The girl is calling him daddy… You feel like you could throw up. 

“Damn.” Joel whistles after. “I don’t really watch porn but…this is good.” He speaks to the computer, apparently, because you’re facing the complete opposite direction now. You’re thinking about putting your hands over your ears, but Joel wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your back into his chest a little. “Watch it with me.” He whisper.

“I’m too embarrassed to be turned on.” You groan and close your eyes. 

“So… we’re not gon’ do nothin’ today. I have self-control. I can teach y’some if y’need me to.” Joel isn’t teasing when he says this. He’s so serious. It for some reasons calms your nerves and also offends you a little bit. 

“I have self control.” You roll your eyes but lean into him and put your head on his shoulder and reluctantly watch the screen of your laptop with him. 

“Ok.” Joel snorts at you but holds you against him when you try and move away. “Tell me what you like ‘bout the way he fucks her.” Joel whispers into your ear quietly. You snap your head up to him with wide, questioning eyes. “I know why y’picked it… wanna know why y’kept watchin’...” Joel whispers again and his breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. You swallow hard again and watch the screen. 

Joel’s twin has your look-a-like on her knees with her chest pressed into the mattress. Her back is arched so dramatically that it looks like it might hurt, regardless, the guy in the video is…hammering into her and she is begging him to make her come and he keeps telling her no. He’s spanking her with some fucking sex thing. You dunno. It honestly looks like something that would come on the handle of a child’s bike. Buncha lil tassles! But!!! This one is leather and all black and he is… spanking her. 

“I like all of it.” You shrug your shoulders not wanting to say thing specific because you don’t wanna sound silly or inexperienced. Your answer isn’t enough for him. 

“You like how she’s layin’ on the bed?” He asks, holding his hand up to her like you cannot see. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod and shrug your shoulder closest to him. He respires through his nose quickly and then points to how he’s holding on to her hips and slamming into her from behind. 

“Do you like that?” He sounds so curious to know if you really did like it, and almost like he knows you didn’t. But you did. 

“Yeah. He’s really givin’ it to her.” You whisper this now, because saying it in a regular volume feels dirty. When Joel speaks, he also whispers. 

“Do you like how he’s tellin’ her not t’ come?” Joel isn’t looking at the computer anymore, he’s looking right at you and you’re trying not to look at him. You shrug your shoulders and say nothing because that sounds horrible. Being denied a come??? No thanks. You’re good with coming freely whenever you want. “Why dontchya know, lil girl, tell me?” He coos to you softly and sweetly. 

“I dunno. Do you like being told not to come?” You do look up at him now and he’s already nodding.”

“Yeah.” Joel smirks a little. “Not always n’ not forever… but yeah.” He speaks in his normal tone again and looks back at the screen. He points with his finger to what the porn star has in his hand. “Do you like that ?” Joel looks back at you now. Emotionless. He doesn’t want you to know if he likes it or not. What a fucking ass. 

“I dunno. I’ve never… been spanked befo—” You’re casually explaining your inexperience to him when he cuts you off. 

“No one’s ever spanked you? Not even foolin’ around or nothin’?” Joel sounds shocked. You shake your head. 

“No, I just… I dunno.” You avoid his eyes. 

“S’wrong?” He closes the laptop and suddenly this has turned into a serious conversation. 

“Nothin’.” You’re just being shy. This is weird. You hate that he’s probably slept with thousands of women and you… are you. So. You’re feeling intimidated. 

“Tell me.” Joel pushes but not angrily or aggressively. He’s trying to figure you out. 

“I don’t even know what’s wrong! I’m just embarrassed.” You sink into his couch and rest your head back on his shoulder. 

“Of what!?” Joel points to the computer “That? Don’t be. That’s fuckin’ normal. Hot. Guy kinda looked like me, huh?” He says this like it’s supposed to comfort you. “You watch that last night? Missin’ me?” Joel whispers now and still speaks too comfortingly…almost condescendingly, but not quite there. It’s making your lower stomach flutter though. You nod silently. “Awhh ain’t the lil girl real sweet, you come?” He is grinning but whispering and still talking so nice.

“No.” You whisper. 

“S’how you wanna get fucked? Or y’watchin’ it ‘cause I told ya I liked it like that?” He asks softly, turning to speak against your forehead. 

“Lil of both.” You mewl quietly. Joel lets his head fall back against the couch and he sighs softly. “What’s wrong?” You pull your head off his shoulder and look at him. 

“Not one single fuckin’ thing.” Joel chirps happily and pulls you into him tighter. “Go n’ read yer’ scary st— or finish yer’ lil video if ya want.” Joel lifts his head and is grinning at you playfully. “Dirty Bird.” He pinches your side, puts your laptop on the couch beside him and stands up. 

“Where ya going?” You watch as he walks towards the kitchen. He holds up his empty beer bottle and then disappears. 

Holy fucking shit. You open your laptop and close out of that shit so quickly and open your blog. Oh god. That wasn’t too bad though. Pretty good actually. Kinda hot. You wonder if that’s a normal thing to do. Watch porn with the guy you wanna fuck. You don’t really want him looking at another naked woman… so… you dunno. Might not do it again.

Joel comes back with a joint behind his ear. He’s so fucking hot. Fuck. His jeans and his t-shirt. Shit. He said nothing’s happening tonight… why? You don’t ask. No. Enjoy this. Live in the moment. He sits down practically on top of you and looks at your laptop to see what you’re doing. 

“Okay… these are the spooky stories..” He nods his head and reads a couple words and then pulls his head back and looks at you. “That’s– uh.. That’s not spooky, babe. That’s a graphic description of someone bein’ murdered… it looks like.” Joel checks the screen again and then looks back at you. “Yeah.”

“It’s a true crime thing.” You explain. “It tells you al the horrible details of crimes that they normally leave out of the podcasts…” You nod sadly.  “I like reading though…so it’s not too bad.” You shrug. Joel is blinking at you. 

“Y’wanna know all this shit? It doesn’t make y’sad?” He is confused.

“I mean… sometimes ‘cause, yeah it is sad. It happened though– I dunno if that’s disrespectful but the lady who does this blog is always real nice. There are certain cases she won’t talk about ‘cause the families had said they don’t like when people do stuff like that.” You explain but Joel isn’t swayed. 

“Yeah… that’s kinda weird t’exploit someone’s murder.” Joel shrugs his shoulder. 

“She doesn’t make money. Those weird podcasters do. Not her though– at least I don’t thin. She’s never gotten a red cent from me. Never asks.” You shrug. 

“Eh, I don’t give a shit enough to argue with you ‘bout it.” He shrugs, kisses your cheek and watches the TV. You have to sit with that statement for about three minutes before you decide you also do not give a shit enough to care and don’t fight with him. 

Football is… fun? You dunno. Not a real fan. Some of the guys on his TV though are CUTE! What!? Jeeeesus and they’re just running around hitting each other? 

“Why don’t they do that all the time?” You ask, holding your hand to the TV. He doesn’t look away from the screen when he answers you. 

“Do what?” He is interested in the game. His team must be doing good or something. 

“Uhh– the sounds— the player sounds.” You nod and look over at him, ripping your eyes away from those men on the screen. 

“What’re y’talkin’ ‘bout? He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Okay, so they’re always talking. Blah blah blah– like we aren’t watching the fuckin’ game they’re talking about!? Stupid. Tony Romo’s voice is fucking annoying. I’d rather hear the players!!” You exclaim. 

“The players aren’t sayin’ nothing. They’re just gruntin’ n’ talkin’ shi-”Joel stops and looks over at your innocent face. 

“It’s better!! Better than Tony fucking Romo. Jesus.” You roll your eyes and go back to your blog. 

What a great time for Matt or as you put him in your phone as ‘matt cat cute tattoos’ decided to go ahead and text you. The message– as well as his name– pop up in the corner of your computer and you get a notification ding, a loud one. 

Looked cute yesterday. Wyd today?

As soon as you get it, Joel’s entire body stiffens besides you but he says nothing, doesn’t move. Nothing. You don’t know what to do. Bringing this computer into Joel’s home has been nothing but bad— just bad. It was bad at first..then kinda good again…now so bad. So, so bad again. Shit. Joel still doesn’t speak and you don’t know what to say so you just exit out of it– and then sit there. 

You watch the TV and the clock on the screen was at fifteen minutes when you looked and it stops so many times. So many times that clock stops and starts and they add time to it again once. It’s not until there are only two minutes left in the quarter that Joel speaks. 

“So… who is Matt?” He asks so casually. 

“Just a guy from the cat shelter.” You explain innocently. 

“Oh, gotchya.” He nods his yeah slowly, you can see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “He that cute?” 

“Oh god.” you put your head in your hands. “I gave him my number yesterday after you dropped me off because I didn’t know if you like– really wanted anything to do with me.. Like actually? Ya know.” You don’t look at Joel because you are too scared.  “Kinda the same reason you liked Ava’s picture before we hung out that night.” 

“Yeah…I see what yer’ sayin’...” Joel sighs but he sounds like he has more to say. He does. “We had hung out though…” Joel is not looking at you either. You both are just speaking facing the TV on the wall in front of you. 

“I know…” You’re shaking and you wonder if he can feel your trembling body literally touching his. 

“Did you go see him last night?” Joel asks emotionless and now you turn to look at him because no you didn’t. Didn’t even think to text him because you had already forgotten about Matt. If you had even fucking remembered in your sadness… you might have gone to see him. 

“No. I didn’t.” You say so confidently and now he looks at you. “I swear I didn’t.” Your eyes scan all across his face and he stays emotionless, doesn’t smile…nothing. 

“Why?” He is still so calm. 

“What do you mean?” You’re stunned to say the least. What the fuck? Did he want you to? Is this a trick? You’re so confused and wanna know what the fuck is going on. 

“Why didn’t you go see him? I blew you off last night n’ you still didn’t go see him?” Joel asks, now a little curious.

“Blew me off?” You wrinkle your brow at him and he panics for half a second in his eyes and then goes back to being calm. 

“Didn’t call or text you.” He defines being blown off to you like you don’t know what the fuck it meant. 

“No. I know that… but I don’t think that’s what you meant to say. What happened last night?” You turn it around on him and wait for his response. 

“Tell me why you didn’t go see that guy and I will.” He pulls away from you a little and you do it too at the same time and read his face. You dunno. It’s just handsome Fucker. 

“No. Did you really forget your keys and phone in your brothers truck last night?” You ask quietly and Joel groans.  

Doesn’t matter. You’re off the couch and running up the stairs to get your stuff. He lied to you. Lied right to your fucking face and then continued to fucking lie. Are you kidding!? He’s chasing you, faster and with more desperation this time. You’re flying up the stairs and into his room. You cannot slam the door in his face because its his house and his bedroom so you run in and grab your stuff off the bed but he’s in the doorway when you turn around. Panting. 

“Move.” You snap at him but he shakes his head. “Then I think I’m officially being kidnapped or being held hostage and I will fight you off. I will fight you so hard.” You point at him but you will not fight him. He could kidnap you and you’d be fine with it. Unless he was with Ava. Then you’ll just kill him. Skip the fighting part. 

“No.” Joel shakes his head again. “Not fuckin’ kidnappin’ you. Grow up.” he snaps at you and is still panting. You roll your eyes. 

“Old!” You snap back at him. “Fuckin’--- just old! Fuck!” You are so pissed and do not know what you’re saying. 

“Stop it.” Joel waves his hand at you and pinches his brows together. 

“No. Tell me what happened.” You bobble your head from side to side and cross your arms over your chest with your bags still in your hand. You purse your lips together tightly. 

“Got more drunk at the bar with Tommy than I usually do, n’ he dropped me off. I just fell asleep ‘fore I could call you. Got in bed and had the phone right there in my hand…just passed out.” He sounds ashamed of himself. 

"That's same shit excuses the thirty year old's I stopped talking to would use. Awesome.” You roll your eyes and think about what Patti said. You’re not asking him shit and don’t care anymore. 

“We had just’ finished a big job the day before– bunch’a guys from work were there.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Why not just tell me that?” You press your lips together again. 

“‘Cause of what you just said. I don’t want you thinkin’ that’s the kinda guy I am.” Joel sighs. "We were just celebratin'. Made good money on that job. Drank more than normal."

“Well… now I think you’re a liar. So, that sucks. You could have just said that to me last night when we were texting. Could have just sent me 'At Bar'... I would have figured it out." You sigh loudly and work up the courage to try and leave even though you don't really wanna. You're gonna though. You’re leaving. Lyin’ aint your flavor baby! You don’t play that shit. No. You can deal with emotionally unavailable. You can deal with distant– love that apparently… but you won’t be lied to. 

“I’m not a liar– look.” Joel pulls his phone out and shows you the screen after he pulls up some bullshit. It’s a picture of him and his brother at the bar. Cool. Who cares. 

“Okay, I dunno that you came right here after. You were so quick to lie to me.. Which is what I have the real problem with– not you getting drunk. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not dumb and naive.” You go to push past him through the door but he doesn’t budge. 

“C’moon.” He sounds sad but you don’t care. 

“No. You’re willing to fuckin’ lie to cover that shit up…something soooo stupid and meaningless.  Something I would have been mad about? Yeah I would have. But would have gotten over--- in a couple days! ‘Cause ya were honest with me. Not lying to get me to your house. Ugh. Fuckin’ gross.” You scoff. 

“You wanna go home?” Joel asks now in a very firm tone. You don’t. You were having so much fun before stupid Matt. Having fun pretending to watch football and snuggle with him!!

“Not really!! I was having fun!!” You exclaim in frustration.

“So stay!” Joel exclaims in matched frustration. “I just didn’t want you fuckin’ bitchin’ at me ‘bout my drinkin’ with my brother! Sorry!” He is still frustrated. 

“Um. No. That sounds stupid.” You roll your eyes at him. "Lie to me to keep me from being upset with you about something?"

“You really think Imma liar?” Joel sounds so hurt now and you see in his eyes that he actually is a little hurt by this. 

“Welp, seeing as you lied. Kinda.” You huff angrily. Joel rolls his eyes. That’s the straw on the camel's back right there. “Fuck you. How are you going to be annoyed? I told you the truth!” You snap at him. 

“Fuck you, too!” Joel snaps back for… no reason. Just said it to say it. It’s kind of cute but also incredibly annoying. “How do I know yer’ not lyin’ ‘bout going to see that guy. You lied to me about being a virgin that first night... told me ya weren't... why?” Joel flicks his eyebrows up to you. 

“BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED!!?? DIDN'T THINK YOU'D WANNA SEE ME AGAIN IF I TOLD YOU!!??” You shout. Joel's shouting is much different from yours. Very loud. Much louder and deeper and bellowing. 

“SO WAS I!! SAME REASON!!” Joel shakes clenches his jaw tight. "I’m fuckin’ ashamed I got that drunk." Joel exclaims at you in frustration-- much softer now though. but then he just groans before he speaks again. "Fuuuuck. I hate this shit. Stupid shit.” Joel throws his hands up in the air and huffs. “I’m goin’ to watch football.” And then he marches his stupid ass right downstairs. You flick him off for two full minutes now that he is out of sight. He is kinda right. Sonofabitch. You hate when men are right. Hate it. You don’t even wanna go back downstairs. But you do. Joel is sitting where he had been before and doesn’t look at you when you come down– with no bags. You feel so uncomfortable. 

“Do you want me to stay?” You grumble. Joel snorts. 

“Do you want to?” He scoffs at you softly still looking at the TV.

“If you’re going to talk to me like that, no.” You roll your eyes. Joel flicks his head to you now, with soft eyes and small smirk... and pats his lap. “What?” You're confused. 

“C’moon.” Joel nods you over to him.

“You want me to come…sit on your lap?” You raise one eyebrow at him suspiciously. He silently nods. Then he beckons you again with another patting of his muscular thigh with his fucking big, strong, stupid hands. You say nothing and don’t even look at him as you shuffle to him. He holds your waist and sits you down on to him. The back of your thighs is right on top of his and you’re more on the couch than in his lap. He looks down at you and smirks. 

“I won’t lie t’ya anymore. I’m real sorry. Didn’t wanna look like n’ ass. N’ I did anyway.” He runs strong hand across your legs softly and scans your face. “N’ I believe y’didn’t go see that Matt fucker.” He grumbles his name and makes you chuckle. “Why’d ya think I wouldn’t want nothin’ t’do withya?” He’s somehow leaned in and now only inches from your face. How did this happen?

“I dunno– you’re kind of established n’ I’m not.” You whisper softly. “N’ I thought maybe all you wanted was... the only thing I got to offer.” You chuckle but there are other emotions brewing inside you. Shit. You’re not gonna cry. No. You will not. 

“Stupid.” Joel leans in and kisses you softly, his tongue flicks across your bottom lip but doesn’t enter your mouth or do anything else. You whine softly when he pulls away. “Football.” He nods his head to the TV. 

Fuck. He does have self control.

Joel leads you upstairs for bed later after locking all the doors and windows, checking the thermostat and making sure all the blinds were shut. You cant help but wonder if he does it ever night as a cute lil routine and now you are in love with him. No you’re not. Stop doing that. No. He’s a man and just regular. You keep telling yourself that as he walks you into his bedroom and pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it in the hamper. 

“You got pjs or do you need something?” he asks, knowing you have a bag of clothes… he carried it in. 

“I have —” You’re trying so hard not to smile at him for no reason as he grabs a t-shirt from his dresser and tosses it on to the bed near where you’re standing. 

“You could use that if you wanted.” He’s being so serious. If he’s being cute and flirting he isn’t showing it as he works on his belt. Your body jolts into gear when you become fully aware that you’re just standing there staring at him. You pull your own shirt off and unclasp your bra around the back and let it slide down your shoulders and arms. You half expect Joel to be staring at you stupidly like an idiot, but he just walks behind you, brings his rough, strong calloused hand to your waist, squeezes softly and walks into the bathroom. 

You throw on his t-shirt and pull your shorts off and walk into the bathroom with your toothbrush feeling…so silly for some reason. You shouldn’t!! He wants you here. Gave you the stupid shirt without you asking. He knew you wanted it. Or he wanted you to have it… which was even cuter and made you even more nervous and feel even sillier. 

Joel hands you toothpaste as you stand in front of the vanity mirror. It’s a good mirror. You’re thinking about how good it would be to sit on the sink and pick at your face in this fucking thing while you brush your teeth. You might if you ever get an opportunity. You brush real good and follow Joel back into the bedroom, he waits for you at the door of the bathroom and extends his hand to you. To walk to his bed. Six feet away. You do not give one single fucking shit. He could hold your hand into the zombie apocalypse if he wanted. You’d let him lead you right into that shit. Fuck.

He pulls the sheets back for you and walks around the bed as you crawl in. 

“Hey.” He growls once he’s in bed. You’re so far away from him. There could be three more people in here. 

“Hi.” You have to speak with your real talking voice to make him hear you. 

“You could come closer.” He chuckles softly. 

“Why is it so big!?” You smirk at him as you have to take several hands and knees over to him. 

“I’m a big guy.” Joel shrugs. 

“Not this big!” You snuggle right up into him and now there is… still an entire queen sized bed left over where you had just crawled from. You giggle excitedly and wiggle around beside him. He is warm and perfect and smells like Joel and this is exciting. You're so happy to be here.

“What’re you wormin’ around fer?” Joel looks down at you, smirking. 

“I dunno. Just happy to be here, I think. Got the sillies or something.” You giggle up to him. “Do you not get in bed and get all excited to be in bed n’ snuggly next to someone??” You look up and him and suddenly feel kinda dumb but he doesn’t let you for long as he wriggles down beside you and wraps you up in his arms. 

“ Shiiit… no. I’m a grown man.” He sounds offended that you’d ask him that. “But you can squirm n’ worm all around next to me whenever ya’ want..” Joel chuckles and kisses the top of your head. 

“I got a cat yesterday. S’why I was at the cat shelter.” You whisper up to him. “Her name is Agatha Christie.” You add quickly after a second of silence. Joel tries and fails to stifle his laughter. 

“What!? Did you pick that name out? Poor cat.” He’s still laughing and jostling your whole body around as he laughs heartily. “Why’d ya get a cat?” 

“I’ve wanted one for a while.” You snap at him. “And her name is good!! I like spooky stuff… Agatha Christie wrote creepy detective books!! Death on the Nile!! So good!” You’re semi offended. Joel rubs his hand all along your back and shoulders. You're running your hand all across his soft n' smooth stomach except for a lil trail of hair that leads down into his boxers. He's so soft n' pudgy but firm and tight at the same time. You wanna run your tongue all along him. Shit. Talking about cats. Fuck. Okay.

“Issa good name fer’ you. Yeah, yer’ right.” Joel is still chuckling. 

“I didn’t even name her that!” You poke him in the sides and he grabs your wrist gently. 

“I’ll spank you into next week. Don’t.” He growls it. 

“Next week? For a poke? Seems excessive…” You roll your eyes at him but, you want him to. Want to poke his soft and pudgy and perfect tummy. It's calling for you.

“Don’t…” Joel is warning you. 

“Are you super ticklish?” You’re not going to tickle him…because you don’t like being tickled. Hate it even though it...tickles and makes you laugh.

“Just don’t.” He sighs loudly and lets your wrist go. It was never tight to begin with. You just like him holding onto you.

“Fine.” You feign annoyance as you kiss his shoulder softly. He sighs softer now and rubs your back gently again. 

“Roll over.” Joel whispers quietly. You do exactly as he says and might never question him ever again. He molds himself into your back and ass and his legs are pressed into yours. He is engulfing you. His mouth is right beside your ear now. “Glad you stayed.” He murmurs softly. 

“Me too.” You breathe out softly. 

“I’m gon’ tease both of us a lil now, don’t get too worked up, ‘kay Cricket?” He snickers so softly in your ear as he pushes his groin into your ass softly. “Love teasin’...” He keeps speaking as he grinds against you. “Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” His voice is so soft and if his cock wasn’t getting hard against you, you’d fall asleep he’s so calm and soothing. 

“Yeah…” You sigh because it’s all you can do. His hand is moving all across your stomach and down between your legs for… milliseconds. It makes you groan and him chuckle each time. His strong fingers pinch and tug at your nipples softer than the first time he touched them. 

“You like this? Want me t’stop?” He kisses behind you ear gently and then breathes out against you as he works his cock into the V between your closed legs and pussy. “Shit.” Joel chokes it back and pushes into you harder. You can feel his searing hot length against the skin of your inner thighs and through the fabric of your panties. “I gotta stop.” He chuckles but does not. 

“Keep going.” You whisper to him and pause for a moment. “Please?” You really want him to keep going…you’re not really sure why. It doesn’t feel like much of anything to you other than something hot and hard between your legs. “Don’t stop… Mr. Miller.” You bite your bottom lip and cringe and how awkward you are and then Joel reacts to this.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He spits the words out and pulls you back against him even tighter, his forearm between your breasts and now his hand is around your neck softly, he’s breathing into your ear. “What did you say?” He whispers but there is force behind this whisper. 

“Please don’t stop, Mr. Miller.” You whimper softly as his hand tightens around your throat. “I’m sorry?" You’re kinda scared because this giant man has his hand around your throat… but is still doing whatever it is he’s doing between your legs. Fucking your thighs? Dunno. He’s still doing that but faster now. And choking you moderately. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, lil girl.” His voice is so deep, fuck. Okay. Is he mad? 

“Do you really like that?” You ask nervously but his body is already telling you that he does… his voice is saying.. Maybe? His hand leaves your throat and his body stops moving against yours. 

“What’d I do?” he holds his hands up and freezes. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s panting, sweating a little, but looking at you fearfully. “M’sorry fer’ whatever it was…” 

“What? You didn’t do anything..” You blink at him. He blinks back at you. 

“Huh? Then what’re you talkin’ ‘bout ‘cause I love all that.” Joel sighs softly and relaxes. 

“Me calling you Mr. Miller?” You raise your eyebrow at him. Joel snorts and lays back in bed. 

“Uh…yeah. I fuckin’ do.” Joel shakes his head. “S’fuckin’... I dunno. I dunno why I like it. Yer’ the first woman t’ever call me that in bed...damn... I liked it though fer' some reason.” Joel sighs loudly. “Sorry. I ain’t mean fer’ it t’go that far. I snuck right outta my boxers.” He rubs the sweat off his forehead and looks over at you. “Y’like all that?” 

“You weren’t mad at me?” You’re still blinking a little. Joel looks like he’s replaying the last four minutes in his head to think if you did something to make him mad.

“No.” He says after a moment and then looks over at you. “What’d I do t’make y’think that?” 

“Uh… choked me? Sounded real mad?” You gawk at him. 

“Didn’t like bein’ choked?” 

“Well now that I know you’re not mad at me… I think I did? I dunno. Let’s do it again.” You suggest eagerly but he just laughs. 

“Nah, ‘cause then it wouldn’t be teasin’.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. 

“That is terrible.” You groan. “Don’t like teasing.” You whine and then face the other way again, annoyed. 

“Lose yer’ attitude, lil Bird.” Joel spanks your ass softly over the blankets. “T’cute to be all ‘tudinal.” 

“I thought you liked a bratty lil girl.” You mock him gently and smirk, getting comfortable in the bed next to him.

He chuckles beside you and rubs the fat of your ass over the blankets now. “Yeah… I do.” Joel sighs loudly and rolls back over to be behind you again. “Goin’ t’sleep now, really.” Joel kisses behind your ear and the the back of your shoulder and the top of your head. His arm drapes over your side and then it’s quiet. 

You’re too excited to sleep!? What!? Why did you not feel this way the last two times? You slept fine. Mr. Miller!! This sonofabitch gets you all horny for thigh fucking and then is sleeping behind you first? Unfair. Not cool. Okay….without that real loud fan from your place…his snoring is kinda loud. Real loud. Right in your ear loud. Is he being so fucking for real right now? This has to be a joke. 

No. 

He is so fucking for real. And the man…sleeps like he might be dead. If it wasn’t for the snoring…you’d think he was how he reacted to literally nothing you did. He had to be faking and pretending. You eventually weasel your way back across this football field sized bed and…the snoring isn’t too bad over here. Still kinda loud. You’ll be fine. You’ve slept through worse. Fighting parents (screaming dad) all night sometimes. This is nothin’. 

It was not nothing.

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414 (i'll add or take you off, just let me know!)

[lissasinclair]

Meeting Arthur at the mental asylum

I was lying on my newfound bed with wheels, staring at the ceiling. My brain was working hard; I was frantically trying to recall all the prayers I’ve ever heard or learnt by heart. So… the first one is to the Guardian Angel… The second is to God Himself… Or maybe God doesn’t really need me to tell Him all those beautiful prayers in rhyme? Maybe I can try to ask Him for help using the simple words and sentences?

I was feeling awful as hell. I was just lying in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know anything about that place with bars on it’s windows; no street name, no how it was look like. I didn’t know where are my own clothes; I was wearing an ugly washed-out gown that was held at my waist by the two long cords. I wondered how many people used to wear it. It felt uncomfortable and kind of humiliating. I looked and I actually felt really crazy in that.

It was New Year’s Eve, on the 31st of December. And I was lying on the bed with wheels in a big hall of a mental asylum, a mental prison, with a bandage on my left wrist.

There were about twenty to thirty other female patients around me. Some were just lying still on their beds, like me, sleeping maybe; the others seemed kind of nervous and worried about something. I was afraid to look at anyone. I was feeling like I was displaying myself in a shop window. Two medical workers were sitting next to the door, laughing and talking, guarding us.

Guarding us from whom? From ourselves?

I continued talking to God, closing my eyes shut. I wanted so desperately to have some sleep, but I couldn’t. My anxiety and fear kept me awake.

“Hey, you”, - suddenly I heard my last name, - “Get up”.

I instantly opened my eyes, not believing my luck. I was sure that the person who just called my last name would tell me now that all that was nothing but a huge mistake and I could finally leave this prison. God really helped me. He heard my prayers and pleas.

“There’s a doctor coming to talk to you”, - a female medical worker told me in a rough tone.

“Okay…”, - I answered, slowly getting up. I looked around and saw a man in a white coat coming to my bed. He was reading something in the papers that he was holding in his hands; he wasn’t looking at me.

“So”, - he said, continuing to check something in his papers, - “Tell me what happened to you exactly, why did you stab yourself and so on”.

I was taken aback by his words; it was hard for me to tell exactly what happened in front of all the other people around me. Some of the women got curious and I saw them sitting upright in their beds, looking at me with interest.

“Mmm…”, - I mumbled, - “Right here?..”

The doctor narrowed his eyes and finally looked at me: “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I sighed and tried to compose myself. I told myself that I had to use this opportunity, maybe this man was kind enough to understand me? Maybe he would help me? Maybe this was my chance?

I started to tell him my painful story. It seemed like he had already heard that same story a million times. He interrupted me a lot and I was feeling that for some reason he was kind of annoyed with me.

“I really hope you understand”, - I told him finally, trying to speak more quickly, - “I’m an average girl, I’m absolutely normal; I just lost my self-control for a few minutes”.

“Well…”, - he said, writing down something, - “You’re not normal… You can’t be normal”, - he grinned just for a second, - “If you were normal, you wouldn’t do that”.

After saying that he disappeared, as abruptly as he had entered. I watched his back as he went away. I really didn’t understand what had I said wrong.

I laid down again and closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how many minutes or hours passed. I tried to sleep again, but it was impossible. I heard some desperate screams, loud noises around me, rough and angry voices, clatter of swift footsteps, laughing and crying.

I wished I had a book or just something to distract myself a little; but I wasn’t allowed to have anything personal at all. So my mind was the only thing I had to amuse myself. At least there was something left that they couldn’t take away from me. I didn’t want to pray anymore, ‘cause God obviously wasn’t listening to me. So I started recalling all the poems I’d learnt in my previous life ‘till my mind was completely blank.

“She’s just pathetic”, - I heard a female voice talking suddenly out loud, - “I mean, she is crazy for real”.

“She is unworthy of any respect, isn’t she? Stupid idiot. You heard what she said? She said that she’d chosen a very special knife for that; it means she wanted to do that a long ago”.

I was lying completely motionless with my eyes closed. Those fragments of their conversation were about me. They were also the patients. There were three of them.

They continued to talk about me, mocking at me and laughing about the reason why I was there.

I wished I was bold and strong enough to get up and tell them to stop that; to tell them that they were also there, with me, in the same place, that they weren’t better than me at all.

But I couldn’t move.

In the evening the cries and the screams around me became louder. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything.

After dinner that tasted as bad as it looked and remained untouched by me, I heard that we were allowed to watch a movie because of New Year’s Eve. It seemed such a miserable thing to me, getting stuck in there, at the dining hall, watching some stupid movie on a tiny TV-set. Why? To create a special atmosphere full of wonder? Haha…

After being forced to take some medications and finding no way to spit them out, I went to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water under the gaze of a medical worker. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with myself even for a minute. I had a disgusting feeling because of that; the words “big brother is watching you” were spinning in my head.

There were no mirrors at the bathroom. I laughed to myself, suddenly understanding why.

After that I entered the overcrowded dining hall. There were already both male and female patients there. “Wow, they decided to gather all the departments in here, what a joy”, - I thought.

My eyes desperately tried to find an empty seat.

My head was dizzy. My heart was racing. What were those pills they gave me? They always ignored my questions about that and there were no names on the packs. It was kind of a secret? Secret healing?

I sighed and tried my best not to fall on the floor and not to start banging my head against it, crying and screaming, as if I had really gone crazy.

All of a sudden my eyes fixed on an empty sit on the edge of a hall. I rushed there.

There was a man sitting next to it. I felt a little bit nervous; was I allowed to sit there or should I only sit next to women? Ohhh, what a stupid fear.

“Hi… Do you mind if I sit here?”, - I asked him quietly.

He looked up at me and our eyes met. His eyes were sad and lustreless; he looked kind of lost. He was skinny and slender; his clothes were baggy and oversized, engulfing his thin frame. His features were well-defined yet delicate; his cheekbones were pronounced and his cheeks were hollowed; it seemed that his skin clung to the bones; his eyebrows were thick and beautiful; his dark brown messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearingly charming look.

Usually I don’t look people in the eyes, ‘cause I’m kind of afraid of that and I always get anxious; but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t take my eyes away from his.

“S..ssure…”, - he answered, his voice was nearly above a whisper, - “Hello”.

I sat down next to him, feeling relieved. He seemed to be a rather calm guy; I hoped that he wouldn’t cry or scream all the time like my female hallmates. Besides, it was a really good place. He was sitting on my left, while there was no one on my right at all; only the window with that ugly bars.

Out the corner of my eye I saw his hands on his lap. His hands were elegant and large compared to my own hands; his fingers were slender and his finger joints were distinct.

I found that beautiful.

I tried to stop secretly observing him and looked at the tiny TV-set. I was wondering which movie they had chosen for us.

A very familiar melody began to play. I shuddered. Well, of course, it was quite expected… New Year’s Eve, the 31st of December… I knew that movie. For me it was a wonderful love story right from the childhood. It was an old Soviet movie, a romantic comedy called “The Irony of Fate”.

It was hard to ignore the throbbing in my head. It was too much… Watching it here… Having no hope at all, having no one to come and save me from here, desperately trying to keep myself sane all the time; answering the same idiotic questions over and over, wondering which answer would be “normal” enough; being forced to strip naked in front of the stupid medical staff, in order to show them that I actually didn’t have anything sharp hidden under my clothes to cut myself once again… As if I wasn’t a human being, but an object to be humiliated… Ohhh… And after all of that I should watch one of my favourite movies in this hell. It felt like I was betraying myself, like I was throwing mud at everything I used to love.

I almost groaned and closed my eyes. I put my elbows on my knees and hid my face into my arms, hoping I would just disappear.

Suddenly I heard a gentle and faint whisper to my left: “Are you okay?..”

I raised my head a little and turned it left. I saw the beautiful stranger looking at me with concern. Or at least it seemed so.

His eyes met mine again and for a moment I felt my breath hitch in my throat. For a moment I was lost in the depths of his eyes.

“Nah… I mean… Yeah… it’s just… it’s just hard for me to watch this particular… movie”, - I answered in a whisper, breaking our eye contact reluctantly and stared down at my knees, feeling shy.

“You… you’ve watched it before?”, - he asked in a gentle whisper.

“Worse”, - I replied, still staring down, feeling kind of afraid and nervous to look back at him, - “That’s one of my favorite… movies”, - I whispered and looked up at him, trying to master my fears. He half smiled in a very sad and meaningful way.

“I understand”, - he replied with a faint sigh, - “You don’t want to… destroy your beautiful memories of that... Being here destroys everything”.

He continued looking at me. I stared back at him, amazed.

“You put my thoughts into words so… perfectly”, - I said, - “That’s exactly what I think”.

The opening melody was over.

He leaned a little closer to me. I swallowed.

“Can we just… Can we try to imagine that we’re not here right now, that we’re… we are…”, - his whisper was soft and calm, like a gentle gust of a sea breeze into my hair.

“At the cinema?”, - I whispered back doubtfully. It seemed to me that I was beginning to understand what he was about to say.

“Yeah”, - he smiled, his eyes were glistening in the dim light coming from the TV-set, - “Let’s imagine that we’re at the cinema. Somewhere in the centre of the city… And we’re watching it there… Feeling free and… safe…”, - he smiled at me, definitely trying to imagine himself what he was talking about.

I couldn’t help but smiled warmly at him. He seemed to be so kind and extraordinary. It was so overwhelming to talk to someone kind in here. To talk to someone who was listening to me at all.

“Nice idea”, - I whispered softly, - “However that screen is too small to imagine that we are actually at the cinema”.

He chuckled shakily, turning slightly to the left to see the screen and then back to me. “I agree with you. The screen is the only thing in here that doesn’t match with our dream… But I guess… we may try to ignore that, huh?”, - he smiled at me; his smile was so tender, personal and playful; it was a smile from his soul. I smiled back at him and nodded quickly, feeling a thrill running down my spine.

I turned to the screen slowly and saw him did the same. He was still smiling. I was feeling both overwhelmed and calm at the same time. I was feeling strangely drawn to this gentle stranger.

The movie was already going on. I was feeling much better now. I really tried to imagine that I was sitting at the cinema next to this kind man, and that everything was absolutely fine. I was trying to imagine that I was watching this movie for the very first time with him. I was feeling so warm inside because of our little conversation.

We were watching the movie in silence. The other patients around us were rather still, only one woman was getting really anxious about being away from her child. When she got too noisy she was taken away from the hall by the two medical workers.

Sometimes I sneaked glances at him to see his reaction to my favorite scenes. I guessed most of all he liked the songs. He seemed to truly enjoy them because of his sparkling eyes and radiant yet shy smile. I knew all the songs by heart and couldn’t help but imagined how I was singing them to him. Why? I didn’t know. Maybe I wanted to make him smile even more.

Several times I heard people’s loud screams from the distance. I guessed those screams were coming from the farthest hallway. It was the hallway located after entering the building. The screams were rather distant yet seemed to get closer and closer before disappearing again. Obviously there were the new patients there, crying and yelling desperately, not realizing yet why they were brought here. I was listening to them with a heavy and aching heart; I tried to pretend that I didn’t hear them as I usually did, although it was impossible to ignore those animalistic sounds. But that wasn’t the worst part. Worst of all were the shouts in response; the medical workers tried to shout the newcomers down, insulting and threatening them. Their shouts were almost completely drowning out the sounds of the TV. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how the hands of the beautiful man sitting next to me were shaking at those moments.

I heard how the men in white coats, that were sitting in the dining hall with us, guarding us, laughed loudly: “As always they all go fucking crazy at the end of the year, don’t they?”

Almost at the end of the movie the main characters seemed to lose each other by denying their true love feelings. At that moment a very sad song started playing. In the lyrics of that song a man was trying to find his lost love. All his efforts were wasted. This song was called “I Asked the Ash Tree”. It was kind of a metaphorical song; very touching and even heartbreaking. This song always managed to touch the very inner parts of my soul, no matter how many times I’d listened to it. And, of course, it did touch my soul now. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

I turned left just a little to look at my new acquaintance. I saw his eyes locked to the screen with a sorrowful look on his handsome features. His eyes were strangely sparkling and he seemed to be so far away from here. My heart dropped. He was almost crying.

I felt my body shake a little. Did he find this song touching too? His soul seemed to me too gentle to be in here, to be locked in this soulless little world with the bars on the windows.

I felt an unbearable urge to reassure him somehow. I leaned to him and whispered: “Don’t worry; they will be together at the end of the movie”.

He turned to me and laughed nervously but quietly, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve just spoiled me the ending, have you?”, - he whispered in a cracked voice with a hint of playfulness.

I grinned at him softly: “I’m sorry; but I guess that was rather obvious; they’re meant to be together”, - I whispered, feeling shy and kind of nervous.

He stared back at me with a calm thoughtful look. “Yeah… They really are…”, - he smiled, his eyes were still sparkling; I suddenly thought that I wouldn’t forget that beautiful moment.

When the movie ended, I saw several medical workers leaving their posts and waiting for the patients near the door, shouting rudely: “Everybody out, now! Hurry up!”

I got up from the chair and saw the man next to me did the same. I felt a piercing ache in my heart. Suddenly a rush of panic and fear was overwhelming me.

All the patients were moving slowly towards the door. It was still rather dark in here, and the only light was coming from the hallway.

I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to leave him; what if I would never see him again?

I swallowed hard and looked at him. “Time to say goodbye?”, - I asked, feeling awkward.

I noticed that he wasn’t much taller than me; he looked fragile and even thinner than before now that he was standing.

He looked at me, leaning over to me, his eyes were deep and tender. “Could I possibly ask you to… to stay? I mean… in here? Just to talk?..”, - he stuttered a little bit while trying to find the words.

“What do you mean? They will notice… I mean… our absence”, - I sad quietly, ignoring the dense flow of the other patients around us.

He half smiled. “I guess they won’t… They need to celebrate, you know… Too busy entertaining themselves”, - he said, looking at me with a dark expression on his face.

I understood what he meant. The staff wouldn’t lose the opportunity to celebrate New Year. Moreover there weren’t any medical chiefs at that time. I’d already heard the dish clattering and the laughter coming from the distance.

I felt the adrenaline rushing through my whole body. Obviously I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to get to know him. But at the same time I was scared to death that they would find us and would try to discipline somehow.

And, of course, I was thrilled to stay alone with him. It felt too good to be true.

“I’ll stay with you”, - I whispered, looking at him timidly, feeling my heart racing.

He smiled, seemingly not believing that I actually agreed.

“Come here with me”, - he said quietly, taking me by the sleeve in a very gentle way. He led me over to the last row of the chairs, bypassing the little crowd.

It was still dark in there. No one turned on the light in the hall. We knelt down behind the seats, remaining hidden under the darkness.

I was watching the crowd of the patients passing through the narrow door to the hallway. I was praying so that nobody would notice us. I still wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing staying here with that kind man. Who knows, what was going on in his mind? He was a complete stranger to me after all; but I wasn’t afraid of him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was feeling oddly calm except for that strange excitement and tension. I just couldn’t resist the temptation to get to know him.

Finally everyone left and the door slammed shut. I was holding my breath, listening to the turn of the key in the door. Then I heard the sound of the footsteps disappearing in the hallway.

It seemed that we both were still waiting for something in a complete silence. After a few minutes my lovely stranger laughed quietly. I turned to him, smiling in relief.

We got to our feet almost simultaneously. I was now standing right in front of him. His eyes were piercing mine. The only light was coming through the window behind my back. There were some lanterns shining in the inner yard of the building. Their soft glow illuminated through the bars of the window making the delicate features of his face visible. I found myself admiring him once again. Even more now. His beauty was exceptional without a doubt. He had a fragile, almost ethereal beauty. He looked like a real piece of art; something amazing, something historical, something you need to cherish with all your heart.

He smiled warmly at me, his eyes were sparkling. “Let’s have a sit over there”, - he said softly, looking behind me. I turned around to the window with a wide sill. I took a couple of steps forward; then I climbed onto the sill and sat on it dangling my legs. He sat down opposite me and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was actually here. His deep eyes were focusing on mine as though he was desperately trying to dig into my soul. He was making me feel nervous but… in a very good way.

We were sitting silent for a few minutes or so. The silence felt strangely comfortable and… safe. It was the very first time I heard silence in here.

A funny thought just came into my mind. “Do you know what people usually say?.. About celebrating New Year?”, - I smiled, looking directly into his eyes.

“What is it? Tell me”, - he said with a soft smile.

“People usually say… that the way you’ll celebrate the New Year…is actually the way you’ll live it”, - I said, smiling shyly yet playfully, - “That means we’re fated to stay here… At least for a year… I mean… No way to escape… From this prison”.

He laughed gently and shook his head. “I hope that people are wrong about that… You’ll definitely get out of here… Not sure about myself though”, - he said, his eyes dulled a little, but his smile didn’t fade.

I continued looking at him with newfound confidence.

“Do you… do you wanna smoke maybe?..”, - he suddenly asked in a low and soft voice, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. His every move was smooth, graceful and calm. I was admiring his irresistible charm.

I widened my eyes in amazement after hearing what he’d just said. “Really?.. I mean… Sure, I’d love to… But… where did you get that?”, - I said, looking at him with wonder.

He grinned with a radiant smile, leaned closer to me and handed me an open pack of cigarettes. I smiled and gladly took one, placing it between my teeth.

“You know, my guards… I tell them some jokes at times and stuff… And if they find it funny enough, they kind of… reward me with that”, - he said, still smiling, yet his expression darkened a little.

I was watching him almost in awe, wondering to myself, how is it even possible to make jokes in such a hell?

He flicked his lighter, and brought the flame up to the tip of my cigarette, leaning even closer to me. I raised my left hand, instinctively covering the flame. The sleeve of my robe fell down, revealing the bandage on my wrist. I froze for a second, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot, ‘cause only pathetic stupid idiot would do something like that.

I took my left hand away, not sure if he noticed that or not. I couldn’t help but looked up at him, inhaling the smoke. He was so close, looking straight into my eyes. It felt like the most intimate and magical moment I’ve ever experienced. I could feel his breathing; it was overwhelming.

I leaned back a little, feeling extremely shy. I exhaled the smoke with a sigh of relief.

“Better?..”, - he asked quietly in low and calm voice, smiling warmly.

“So much… better…”, - I answered, taking another drag, feeling the smoke burning my throat.

He chuckled like he knew exactly what I was thinking about and lit himself a cigarette, taking a long drag on it. He let the smoke linger for a few seconds; after that he exhaled it in a long stream directed to the ceiling.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Oh my… The way he was smoking was so… cinematic. He looked so… perfect, so alluring… He was almost glowing in the low light coming from the window; he looked like an angel.

He seemed to notice my gaze and it seemed that he liked it.

“What is your name?”, - he asked suddenly. His voice was soft, musical and a little husky; I felt my heart pounding against my ribs; I was admiring him, watching the smoke leaving his lips, swirling through the air. “My name is Lana”, - I answered quietly, swallowing hard, - “And what is your name?”

“My name is Arthur”, - he said, smiling, - “You have a very beautiful name, Lana”, - he added; his smile was shy and sincere. It looked adorable.

“You have a very beautiful name too…”, - I answered, melting under his stare like a snowflake on a tongue. His wonderful name suited him so perfectly.

The thin wisps of the smoke floated in the air, making all around us looking like a fantasy.

“Lana… I’m sorry for asking, but…”, - he said in a soft yet hesitant voice, - “Your wrist… That’s the reason why you are here?..”

I froze for a few moments, didn’t know what to answer, feeling embarrassed and, yeah, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot.

I took the last deep drag from the cigarette and crushed it out on the sill. I swallowed hard and nodded, staring at the window.

“I wasn’t… I mean… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to do that… I don’t know why I did that… I’m just…”, - I sighed deeply, desperately trying to find the words, - “It was like the other part of me. You know, like it wasn’t me at all. Like the real me was just standing there and observing all that was happening… And she, I mean, the real me, didn’t want to stop that or didn’t know how. Whereas the other part of me had an irresistible urge to hurt someone… To hurt… Myself…”, - the words were flowing out like an endless stream, - “I was so overwhelmed by pain and… fear… so hardly overwhelmed. It was intolerable… Unbearable… I wanted to release it somehow… And also… I wanted to make myself… To make myself feeling even worse. It was like I was wondering… How would I feel after reaching the bottom of this… abyss… But know what, Arthur…”, - I sighed, saying his name felt like the very last step of giving all my trust to him, - “Now I know for sure… This abyss has no bottom… And I’m keeping falling”, - I stared down, feeling my body tremble.

I heard how he sighed heavily, crushing his cig. “You’re not alone with that, Lana… Yow know, I… I do understand you. I feel you”, - he said, his voice was gentle and a little hoarse, - “I feel you…”, - he said again and moved closer to me. He laid his hand on my right forearm softly, like I was made of crystal.

I was feeling like my chest would explode from my heartbeat.

I looked up at him, feeling both deeply embarrassed and suddenly relieved. He was looking at me with a deep understanding, his soulful eyes were filled with compassion and gentleness. “Just so you know… you are not falling alone… And as long as you’re not alone, falling isn’t that scary…”, - he said.

I swallowed, breathing unevenly. His hand was still on my forearm and I could feel his warmth.

“I guess I’m here for…for kinda same reasons”, - he added, continuing looking into my eyes, - “Although… it doesn’t seem so at the first glance…”

“What… what did you did?”, - I asked, my voice was raspy and it was hard for me to speak.

He hesitated for a moment.

“I killed six people”, - he said.

His tone was dark and serious; it sounded like a joke to me, although I could tell from his expression it wasn’t. His eyes became empty, dull and lifeless in just a moment. The look in his eyes was exactly the same as when I saw him for the first time. I could see a pain in his eyes. He looked like a person who had lost all the hope in life.

I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. How could anyone so fragile-looking and gentle-hearted be a killer?..

“But… how?.. I mean… why?..” - I asked, looking at him, feeling my heart heavy for him.

“You know, Lana… I was feeling like I was drowning in my pain... I got used to that, but then… at some point… it was… too much to bear. I didn’t know how to make it stop… At least for a moment…” - he looked away, his voice was hoarse and shaking. “And then something just broke inside of me… Something I couldn’t repair. You told me that you were feeling like there was some other part of you, hurting you… I was feeling exactly the same way… I was feeling like…like I was torn in two… One half of me was petrified and couldn’t move or think of anything, while the other half was dizzy with excitement… With a strange kind of excitement I’ve never felt before… I was… so thrilled, so unstoppable, so… uncontrollable, so unfamiliar to my usual self. And you know what… I was also feeling… free. Finally free from my pain… And even… relieved… But at the same time I felt that feeling that way was wrong… That in fact my pain didn’t fade away at all… But at least it was no longer locked inside of me. It broke free… Suddenly all the pain and suffering were no longer only mine…”

Arthur was silent for a while, staring gloomily out the window. Then he said: “I wish I didn’t do that… but I did”.

I was trembling as if with a chill. Everything he’d just said felt like it was happening to me. I could feel his pain. I could feel how unbearable it was. I wish I could find the right words to reassure him, but it seemed there were no words in the whole world in any languages that would help to heal his deepest wounds.

I carefully jumped off the sill. Then I turned my right hand palm up and pulled his arm gently. He slowly moved his legs off the sill and stood in front of me.

Now he was looking at me. His sorrowful eyes penetrated my whole being. And it hurt me deeply to look into his eyes.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Never in my whole life had I met someone like him. I was feeling like I’d met my own soul in him.

I couldn’t resist but hugged him. I didn’t know from where I got the confidence to do that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently nuzzled the crook of it, hiding my face and breathing in his scent. He smelled like smoke; it was on his clothes and I inhaled his scent deeply, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

He froze and I could feel his body stiffening with tension. For a moment I was afraid that he would push me away; but then he gave me a tentative hug back, wrapping his arms around my waist very carefully, as if he was scared of hurting me.

“You… Why are you hugging me, Lana?..”, - he whispered into my hair.

“Because… I feel you. I feel you too, Arthur”, - I whispered back, - “I feel you more than you can imagine…”

I raised my hands a bit and stroked his soft and silky curls.

Arthur pulled me closer towards him, holding me tighter, sighing deeply and shakily. I felt his warmth; it was so incredibly comforting. I instantly felt safe and relaxed; I felt like I was weightless; like I was normal.

“I have a request for you, Lana”, - he whispered softly; I could feel his hands moving slowly across my back.

“What is it?”, - I asked in a gentle whisper, still stroking his hair.

Arthur paused for a moment before saying: “Please be… real”, - he whispered, his voice quaking as if he lost control of his emotions, - “I want you to be real. I need you to be real”.

I smiled, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Make a wish, then, Arthur… Make a wish for me to be real. And I’ll make a wish for you to be real too”, - I whispered desperately and almost inaudibly, - “People say all the wishes come true on New Year’s Eve”.

He pulled back a little and cupped my face with his hands with exquisite gentleness, looking down into my eyes with tenderness.

“I really hope they are right about that”, - Arthur said quietly with a delicate laugh, and then his soft lips pressed very gently against mine.

[quietly-collecting-spoons]

Went to the hospital because I literally couldn’t breathe. Was having all sorts of “about to pass out” symptoms like dizziness and numbness in my hands and legs. Of course everything cleared up before I got to the hospital because when can symptoms ever stay around long enough for medical staff to see them first hand, right? So anyway I get back to work a couple days later and I mention it to my coworkers because the day it happened I had to clock out early and I wanted them to know I’m better.

If I had a nickel for every time someone said it was probably anxiety/a panic attack I could pay the medical bill right this second. I hate that that’s the first thing people jump to. I’ve had panic attacks, I’m anxious every day. I wouldn’t be clocking out for symptoms I experience every day.

[justmossyaps]

i don’t want to jinx it but i think the flareup might actually be over :D

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[sushiyuzu]

my turn

warning: fluff + comfort — it is finally your turn to return your devoted love and affection to soft!sylus 🤍

a/n: hi anon! many thanks for ur sweet words and request, i hope you enjoy <3

anon’s request / link: click here

hmm.

you’ve never seen sylus this quiet before.

you’ve always known sylus to be the confident one—the serious, bold, intimidating man who always seems to have everything under control. he’s the one who teases you with his smooth, elegant words, who pulls you close with a charming smile that makes your heart race. but today, you decide it’s your turn to change things up.

he’s sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book with that focused expression he gets when he’s deep into something. you take a moment to watch him, admiring his handsome face and the way his silver hair falls over his forehead. you’ve never seen him look so calm, so peaceful. a playful idea forms in your mind, and before you can second-guess it, you move closer.

you slip into his lap without warning, wrapping your arms around his neck. his eyes widen, his crimson gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, the usual edge of authority still there. you smile and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“nothing,” you say softly, your lips brushing his skin. “just loving you.”

before he can respond, you kiss him again—this time on the other cheek, then on his jaw, your fingers threading through his silver hair. you can feel his body tense beneath you, his posture rigid like he’s not sure how to handle your sudden affection.

“you’re being... very forward,” he murmurs, his deep voice wavering slightly. clearly, he’s trying to keep his composure, but you can see the blush creeping up his cheeks, the way his eyes are flickering with uncertainty. it’s just so unlike him that it makes you giggle.

“i can’t help it,” you say, tightening your arms around him, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. “you’re just so handsome.” your voice is soft and sincere, and you watch as his confident mask slips just a little.

he swallows, his crimson eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly not used to you being this bold.

you decide to push him further, to see just how flustered you can make him. “i love you,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sweet and affectionate. you press a kiss to his temple, then his nose, then his lips. he freezes, his breath hitching, and you can feel the way his heartbeat racing against your chest.

“what has gotten into you?” sylus asks, his usual smooth tone cracking just a bit. he looks genuinely taken aback, his elegant words faltering as you continue to pepper his face with soft kisses. you giggle again, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck.

“just loving you,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“you always take care of me, so now it’s my turn to show you how much you mean to me.” you smile, your eyes shining with warmth, and he blinks at you like he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

and that almost makes you burst out laughing.

keyword: almost.

“you’re... ridiculous,” he mutters, his voice low and unsteady, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only a soft, shaky vulnerability. his hands settle on your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. “you’re supposed to be the shy one, not me.”

you smile wider, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “maybe i’m tired of being shy,” you tease gently. “maybe i want you to be the one who blushes for once.”

his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s about to say something clever, but the words seem to catch in his throat. instead, he just stares at you, his crimson gaze searching your face, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his usual composure. you feel a surge of affection for him—this strong, confident man who’s so easily undone by your love.

so you kiss him again, long and slow, your hands framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. this time, he doesn’t resist. he melts into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist, squeezing your flesh gently and you feel him shudder against you. when you finally pull back, his face is flushed, his breathing uneven, and he looks... shy. truly shy, like he’s never been before.

“you’re... unbelievable,” he says softly, his voice a little hoarse, his eyes half-lidded and warm. you can see the struggle in him—wanting to regain control, to be the calm and composed sylus that you know, but your gentle touches are making it impossible for him to act like his usual self.

and it drives him nervously crazy.

“so are you,” you reply, kissing his forehead. you can see him fighting the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks, his eyes glancing away like he’s embarrassed, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. you cup his face, guiding his gaze back to yours, and you can see the way he’s holding back a smile.

“you really are beautiful, you know that?” you say, your voice gentle and sincere. “i don’t tell you that enough.” you lean closer, pressing your lips to his ear. “you mean the world to me, sylus. i love you so much.”

you feel him tremble beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening, and you pull back just enough to see his expression—completely soft, completely open. he’s not trying to hide anymore, and there’s something incredibly sweet about seeing him this vulnerable, this undone by your love.

“you’re going to make me go insane,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a rough, raw honesty in his tone that takes your breath away. he’s not used to being the one overwhelmed, but he’s not pushing you away, either. instead, he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath.

“then let’s go insane together,” you say softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. he makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and kisses you back—slow and deep and so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip a beat.

you pull away just enough to see his face—his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks a warm shade of pink, and his expression so soft it makes your chest ache.

“you don’t have to be perfect with me,” you whisper, brushing a strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “i love you just as you are.”

he’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours, and then he smiles—a real, gentle smile that makes his ruby eyes shine. “i love you most, sweetie.” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, and you hug him tight, burying your face in his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel the way he’s finally letting go of that careful, controlled exterior. he’s just sylus now—your sylus, the one who loves you with all his heart, who isn’t afraid to show you his softer side.

oh, he’s so in love.

only with you.

just you, forever.

while you’re lost in the warmth of his hug, you suddenly feel his lips touch your shoulder. there’s a small, teasing pause, and then he gently nibbles at your skin—a light bite that makes you shiver. you gasp quietly, your heart fluttering with surprise, but before you can even react, he follows it with a soft, gentle kiss, pressing his lips where he cutely bit you. the touch is warm and comforting, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“sylus,” you whisper his name, a little surprised but mostly filled with affection, and he laughs quietly, the sound low and sweet. he’s still holding you close, his breath warm against your neck, and you can feel that he’s smiling—like he’s happy to share this new, tender closeness with you.

and deep down, that makes you giddy.

“i couldn’t resist,” he says in a soft whisper, his voice gentle and playful in your ear. his tone still carries a hint of his usual confidence, but it’s softer now. his arms pull you even closer, and you can feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart as you lean against his chest.

“you’re just too tempting,” he adds, his lips brushing your shoulder again. you can’t help but laugh softly, holding him tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling warmth spread through you—a feeling of love that fills every corner of your heart.

“and you,” you say softly, your voice full of love, “are absolutely perfect.”

he makes a quiet, happy sound, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. you can feel him smile against your skin, his warmth so close and comforting. his fingers start to trace gentle patterns on your back, moving slowly, and you can tell he’s calm and relaxed. his breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and you feel safe and happy in his arms.

you stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a long time. the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing, and it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared. his strong, big arms keep you close, and you can feel every bit of him—the warmth of his chest, the softness of his breath, the way he holds you like he never wants to let go.

you lift your head slightly, just enough to look into his sweet eyes. there’s something more softer in them now, something that’s just for you.

only for you.

you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and warm, and he kisses you back, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek. you feel his thumb gently brush your skin, and he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-closed and his face relaxed. he looks softer, more open than ever before, and it makes your heart ache with love.

you give him one more quick kiss on the tip of his nose, making him chuckle softly. he tightens his arms around you, holding you so close that you can feel the warmth of his body all around you.

“i love you,” you whisper, and you say it again, over and over, softly against his skin—each “i love you” gentle and full of emotion. he closes his eyes, listening, and you feel the way he relaxes even more, like each word you say fills him with warmth.

he lets out a quiet sigh, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, and you can feel him melt into your touch. his strong, protective exterior has softened, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks, a sign that he’s a little overwhelmed by all the affection you’re giving him. but he doesn’t move away. he just stays right there, holding you tightly, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, soaking up every bit of your love.

you don’t let go either. instead, you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his warm breath fanning your skin while his fingers continue to gently stroke your back.

you’re both wrapped up in a safe, warm bubble where nothing else matters except the two of you, and you know that this—being with sylus, being this close—is all you’ll ever need. and you know, in that moment, that this is exactly where you belong—right here in his arms, loving him with all the warmth and affection he truly deserves.

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS JEALOUSY HCS ── .✦

a/n: I just ate which like now my stomach hurts because I ate this spicy burger (10/10) and my stomach is hurting so let’s hope i don’t die from a burger😭 also request from anon (here) tysm!

(Tags: batboys when jealous of crush!reader)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Internally Brooding, Externally Stoic: Bruce keeps a calm, composed exterior, but inside? Full-on brooding mode. He watches every move, his jaw clenching just slightly whenever the other guy laughs a little too much.

Passive-Aggressive Moves: Bruce subtly but effectively tries to interrupt. Maybe he’ll walk by and offer you something he never does, like coffee or water, just to make his presence known. “You looked thirsty,” he’ll say, while the guy looks confused.

Petty Rich Guy Move: He’ll ‘accidentally’ mention something about Wayne Enterprises, as if to remind everyone just how wealthy and powerful he is. “Funny, we were discussing corporate acquisitions the other day,” he’ll drop casually, as if it relates. (Let’s hope he doesn’t drain his bank 😞🙏)

The Comedy: When Alfred catches him glaring, he’ll dryly say, “Master Wayne, perhaps you should try blinking before you permanently furrow your brow.” Bruce will immediately deny he’s bothered, even as he side-eyes you again.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Charm Dial Up to 100: Dick doesn’t even try to hide his jealousy. He’ll swoop into the conversation, throwing in his most dazzling smile. “Hey, I didn’t realize we were letting random guys have all the fun,” he’ll say with a teasing grin, while subtly nudging the guy aside.

Over-the-Top Compliments: He’ll suddenly become your biggest hype-man. “You know, she’s literally the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful person in the room, right? No offense to you, man.” The other guy feels awkward, and you just laugh while Dick grins smugly.

Puppy Dog Eyes: If you keep talking to the other guy, Dick’s smile might falter just a little, and he’ll stand in the background, clearly pouting. It’s so obvious that even you can’t help but laugh.

The Comedy: He’ll mutter, “Didn’t even know jealousy could feel this personal,” under his breath while side-eyeing the guy like it’s a soap opera.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Trying to Play it Cool: Jason’s jealousy is obvious in how stiff and silent he gets. He leans against the nearest wall, arms crossed, glaring like the other guy just insulted his whole family.

Blunt Interruptions: He doesn’t have the patience to be subtle. He’ll walk up and ask, “So, who’s this?” in the least friendly tone possible, with a fake smile that could curdle milk.

Accidental Intimidation: Jason’s sheer presence is intimidating, so the poor guy talking to you will probably start feeling uncomfortable as Jason looms over, cracking his knuckles or adjusting his jacket dramatically.

The Comedy: If you don’t notice, Jason will mutter sarcastically, “Oh sure, talk to Captain Chit-Chat over there. Not like I’m standing right here or anything.” Roy, nearby, might add, “Jason, you’re doing that ‘death stare’ thing again,” and Jason will growl, “I’m not jealous.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward and Overthinking Everything: Tim doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, it’s a mess. He watches from a distance, wringing his hands, thinking, Should I interrupt? Maybe she likes him? Maybe I’m reading too much into it…

Accidental Sulking: He tries to focus on something else, but his mind keeps wandering. He sits down nearby, pretending to work on his laptop, typing nonsense just so he can stay close without being obvious. “Haha, yeah…no big deal…” deletes everything he just typed.

Passive Observing: Tim eventually tries to casually stroll by, acting like he just happened to be there. “Oh, hey… didn’t see you there. Weird, right?” He’s so awkward it’s endearing.

The Comedy: If Kon or Bart sees him sulking, they’ll tease him mercilessly. “Dude, go talk to her.” Tim panics, “I can’t. She’s busy… laughing… with him…” Kon: “You’re hopeless.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Silent Judgment Mode: Damian watches with narrowed eyes, judging every aspect of the guy talking to you. He might even mutter things under his breath like, “He stands like a fool,” or “He can’t even articulate properly.”

Direct Interruption: Damian doesn’t have time for subtlety. He’ll walk up and flatly say, “Are you finished with this conversation? It’s becoming unbearable.” The other guy is usually too shocked to respond.

Unintentional Comedy: He’ll start critiquing the guy’s conversation topics. ���She doesn’t care about your opinions on sports,” he’ll state matter-of-factly, as you try not to laugh.

The Comedy: If you ask if he’s jealous, he’ll scoff. “Jealous? Of that imbecile? Hardly.” But the tips of his ears are turning red, and you know he’s lying.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫

Satoru Gojo

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Satoru is your best friend's boyfriend, you shouldn't like him.

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Cheating (on Satoru, not from reader), Smut, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Fluff, Hair descriptions for reader

*This is another commission for @mew4-ever18, y'all can thank her again! I hope you guys enjoy because it's truly a wild but fun ride🙂‍↕️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re not sure why you sit with them instead of just being in your room. They’re here for your best friend, not you. You have no business being with them. It feels like you’re in high school all over again, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst them.

Every other night you’re fine with them being here, but tonight you’re out of it. Your eyes keep darting to Satoru and Ali, both sitting so close together that you almost feel upset. Ali is your best friend– She’s been by your side for as long as you can remember. She’s like a sister… Yet you have conflicting feelings.

Whenever you look at her and Satoru together, you feel upset. A feeling that is quickly followed by remorse. You shouldn’t like your best friend’s boyfriend; alas, you can’t control your feelings. Even if you do act on your feelings (you only have a tiny crush either way, it’s no big deal), he wouldn’t reciprocate them. Ali is simply stunning– It’s not that you’re ugly, but your whole life you’ve watched her get praised for her beauty. She simply stands out while you’re just there. Just like this moment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You hear your name from Satoru’s mouth, interrupting you from your trance of thoughts. Ali giggles, whispering something in his ear which makes the man chuckle. You unintentionally roll your eyes before nodding.

“Oh my god, guys. I forgot to tell you.” Ali begins, drawing everyone’s attention. There’s a grin on her face as she says, “It’s mine and Satoru’s third month anniversary.”

“Woah, for a moment I thought that you had something important to say.” Suguru, who sits beside you, comments. Ali clicks her tongue, sticking out her middle finger at the man. Suguru chuckles in response.

“It’s important! Satoru is going to propose soon.” She announces, sticking up her left hand. Satoru’s eyes widen, and he scoots away from her on the couch. Though they’re details that you don’t notice. You’re just staring at Ali’s ring finger, knowing that it’ll be adorned by a rock soon enough. You know she’s very influential, and gets what she wants in the end.

“She’s joking.” Satoru quickly clarifies but you know that it’s only a matter of time before Ali gets her way. In all of your years of knowing Ali, you’ve never seen her get turned down. She isn’t serious now, but she’s dropping hints that she wants it to happen soon; if she doesn’t get her way soon, the relationship will come to an end. 

“I guess.” Ali chuckles before kissing Satoru’s cheek. It makes you take a deep breath and look away once again. You make brief eye contact with Shoko before quickly looking away as an uneasiness takes over you. You hear Ali ask, “It won’t hurt to think about it, right?”

“You’re still young, you have a lot of time.” Shoko chimes in, earning a glare from your best friend. That wasn’t the input she needed, therefore, Ali looks at you.

“It wouldn’t.” You force the words out of your mouth. You can barely look at Ali’s face. Throughout the day whenever you look at her you just think of last night. You left your room to get some water and heard a rather obscene scene. You are rightfully uncomfortable… But you’re also sad. 

You know you have no right to feel sad about this, but you can’t help the feeling. Every time you look at her you just can hear her moan his name over and over again while he groans from pleasure. You froze in place, and heard more than you had to last night. You felt sick, and that memory replaying in your head doesn’t help you.

Your breath hitches as you hear all of them laugh. You look around the room, feeling as if it gets smaller by the second. You can’t stand it. You stand up from the couch, and awkwardly smile. You look back and forth between your best friend and her boyfriend before you tell them,

“I’m going to lay down. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

No one says anything, letting you leave the room without a protest. It’s not like you fit in the group either way. You feel like absolute shit, but it’s not their fault. Your personality just doesn’t match with theirs, and that’s not on them.

You lock yourself in your room and immediately bury your head in a pillow, letting the tears flow. An overwhelming flux of emotions flows through you. You like to think of yourself as confident, brave, and strong but right now you’re simply the worst. 

You shouldn’t like your best friend’s boyfriend and you shouldn’t be upset at the fact that you heard them have sex the night before. Ali’s been with you through thick and thin, and this is how you’re repaying her.

Meanwhile, Satoru is staring at your bedroom door before looking back at Ali. He asks, “Shouldn’t you check up on her? She’s acting weird tonight.”

“That’s just how she is. She’s always a little weird.” Ali rolls her eyes, and a slight frown comes on Satoru’s face. Maybe he shouldn’t overstep, Ali knows you better than anyone but the comment still feels odd.

“Isn’t that rude? She’s your best friend.” Satoru reminds her, and she clicks her tongue.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Satoru is in his mother’s hospital room, watching as the one that gave birth to him sleeps. Suguru sits down next to him, afraid to make conversation since he doesn’t want to wake the woman up. Suguru is just there for emotional support.

Satoru doesn’t know what happened. He was on his way to visit his girlfriend, and his father suddenly called. His mother was ill, and they were on the way to the hospital. And here he is now… Waiting to talk to her. They’ve been slipping her in and out of the room to run tests on her, and the moments that she’s in the room she can’t stay awake.

Satoru has been spending most of his days at the hospital for the past week. He’s sick of it, but he’s not leaving his mother alone– She wouldn’t be alone either way, his father is also practically living in the hospital, but Satoru still won’t leave. He texts Ali to kill time, though the conversations quickly get boring and he has to frequently change the topic.

“I’m going to get something to eat.” Suguru says, standing up from his seat. He’s been glancing at Satoru’s phone, snooping in a conversation that doesn’t concern him whatsoever. A conversation that’s too boring for him to keep reading, which is a lot to say.

“I’ll come with.” Satoru stands up as well, following Suguru’s lead. Satoru cracks his knuckles as they leave the room, commenting, “I’m so bored in there.”

“I saw you talking to Ali–” Suguru quickly bites his tongue when he realizes that he’s admitted to snooping. He can’t shut up now, he’s already admitted to his crime, he might as well say what’s on his mind. Suguru throws his arm over Satoru’s shoulder, slightly leaning on him as they walk to the elevator. “She’s pretty, bro. I’ll give you that but… She’s kind of superficial.”

“Why are you staring at my phone?” Satoru side-eyes his best friend, and Suguru shrugs. Satoru rolls his eyes at the lack of response before quickly defending his girlfriend. “You know she’s better in person.”

“She’s not. She only ever talks about herself, and it’s never something interesting.” Suguru points out, which makes a frown appear on Satoru’s face. That isn’t true at all– At least Satoru hasn’t noticed and he’s quick to pick up on stuff. Suguru continues trying to get his point across, “And I know she has… What, two million followers on Instagram? Like yeah, she’s pretty but apart from that she has nothing.”

“She has other qualities.” Satoru says as they both get to the elevator. He presses on the downwards arrow button, and they begin the long wait for either elevator.

“Like what? Please name one.” Suguru responds, and Satoru takes a minute to think about it. The elevator opens, and the men step aside to let the people out before entering the lift. The conversation dies down at that moment since it’s awkward to talk about Ali’s lack of personality when three other people surround them.

When they get to the first floor, Suguru brings up the topic again. Satoru’s annoyed, unwilling to listen at this point, and it’s written all over his face but Suguru does not care, “You deserve better. She’s not the type you’d want to marry.”

“How would you even know that?” Satoru scoffs, and Suguru rolls his eyes. Suguru knows that Satoru isn’t going to actually listen. Satoru is defensive about this, and Suguru can’t entirely blame him. Ali is still his girlfriend regardless, Suguru knows that he’d react the same way if Satoru began to bad talk Shoko.

“She treats her best friend like shit. She treats someone that she’s known her whole life like shit, and you think that’s the woman you should marry?” Suguru answers, which makes Satoru roll his eyes.

“Let’s just drop it.” Satoru ends up saying, and Suguru sighs defeatedly.

“Yeah. Let’s just eat something.” Suguru agrees. He checks the time and realizes he has to get going soon, “I’m leaving you after, I’m going to see Shoko.”

After Suguru leaves, Satoru is left to go back upstairs alone. He doesn’t mind the solitude, it’s not like he was talking to Suguru either way. He’ll probably ponder on Suguru’s words, and try to make an excuse for his girlfriend. Though if Satoru is being honest… He doubts the relationship is going to last long. He’s turned a one night stand into a regular thing– But maybe there’s a future in the relationship. He likes to be optimistic about things, even if it’s a relationship that doesn’t have much of a future.

“Satoru!” He’s met by a voice that catches him off guard. He’s a little surprised to be met by his girlfriend, but a smile comes to his face as he sees her face. Though the smile fades when he looks over her outfit.

Satoru isn’t one to police what his girlfriend wears. He’s fine with whatever that makes her happy. He’s not the type to get jealous or control that aspect of her life… But he recognizes when an outfit is inappropriate for an occasion.

She wears a red cut out dress, as if she’s about to go out clubbing. She smiles brightly at him, and Satoru can’t help but feel bad. She’s a little ditzy sometimes. She doesn’t mean any harm.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru sounds rather awkward, something that she doesn’t seem to notice. Satoru would be more welcoming if she looked a little more decent for the place. 

“I just want to visit my mother-in-law.” She says which makes Satoru cringe. He won’t correct her, he knows she’s just joking. He thinks she’s just joking. She gives him a tight hug, something that a few minutes ago he thought would be comforting; it’s anything but… But it’s not her fault. 

“She’s sleeping.” Satoru answers as he pulls away. Ali pouts, mimicking a sad expression. It feels like she’s mimicking considering how she exaggerates it. No– Satoru is just overthinking everything after his conversation with Suguru. The dumbass was trying to brainwash Satoru.

“Do you want to go out to dinner then?” She asks, as if it’s the only reason why she’s here. Satoru shakes his head which makes a slight frown appear on the woman’s face.

“I already ate something at the cafeteria.” Satoru responds. 

“I’ll go get something then. I’m hungry.” She replies, and Satoru tries not to question it. Did she come here for the sole purpose of stealing Satoru’s attention? No, he’s just letting Suguru get to his head. Though he’d admit that it’s odd for her to show up at the hospital and immediately ask him out to eat.

She bites down her lip before asking Satoru, “Do you want to come with?”

“I’m going to my mom’s room. You can come back after you’re finished.” Satoru answers, and she rolls her eyes. Satoru is going to pretend like he didn’t catch that weird reaction. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him. She leaves without a word, letting Satoru walk back to his mother’s room to wait by her side.

Satoru is sure he’s just reading into things as he sits down besides his mother once again. Stupid Suguru got in his head. The idiot has a way to mess with Satoru, it works ninety percent of the time. Though Satoru knows that he can’t entirely blame Suguru since the man just mentioned certain behaviors that Satoru himself noticed. Ali is quite a bitch with you, and if Satoru were anyone else, he’d give you the advice to cut her off.

Perhaps you’re just sticking around because you’re roommates with Ali. He doesn’t know the extent of your relationship either, he’s barely even scratched the surface so it’s not a matter that he has an opinion on. Ali is rising to fame as an influencer, and she’s letting the attention get to her head so maybe this is just some new behavior on her end. 

Satoru begins to question every little thing about Ali in the span of thirty minutes. Maybe she really is superficial like Suguru claims– Who is Satoru even trying to convince? Ali is most definitely superficial, he’s known about this since their very first date.

He grabs his phone to distract himself, he’s currently questioning his relationship because of Suguru’s dumb words. He can’t let the little shit get to his head, Suguru loves to do this every time Satoru has a girlfriend and it always ends up with Satoru breaking up with his girl.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he sees a new story from Ali. His thumb hovers over the screen as the man builds up the courage to click on it. She’s posing seductively for the camera, and Satoru sighs as he sees the story from a couple of minutes ago. Maybe it’s just a video from a couple of weeks ago; she’s just posting content to keep her followers engaged.

Satoru taps on the screen, seeing she’s posted multiple things in the last thirty minutes. Before getting to the hospital and while she’s clearly in the building. Just five minutes ago she posted a mirror selfie in the hospital bathroom, and Satoru can’t help but frown. She’s a bit ditzy but she can’t be this unaware, right?

It clicks in his head at that moment. Suguru isn’t trying to brainwash him, he’s just pointing out what’s fairly obvious. Ali isn’t here to actually check up on Satoru’s mom, she’s here for another reason. She just wants Satoru’s attention.

He stands up from his chair and walks out of the room. He can’t sit there knowing she’s making a fool out of herself, and in the process, embarrassing him. He has to talk to her, ask for her to leave before she makes a complete and utter fool out of him as well.

Satoru gets to the cafeteria quickly, his eyes searching around the place for his girlfriend. Luckily, he doesn’t have to look for too long before his eyes land on her as she poses for a photo. She’s treating the hospital cafeteria as a photo studio, he can’t look at her for too long without embarrassment filling him inside. His eyes don’t wander too far before landing on an all too familiar face.

Satoru’s breath hitches, gulping as he stares back at his father. His father’s eyes then fall on Ali. Satoru just should turn around and not acknowledge her at all– If the situation is embarrassing now, he can only imagine it’s ten times worse if his father finds out that this oblivious woman is Satoru’s girlfriend.

“Pookie! Come here!” Ali yells once her eyes fall on Satoru, making it loud enough for everyone to hear. Satoru can still turn around and pretend like he doesn’t know her, especially since he sees his father’s brow furrows. Yeah… It’s best if Satoru turns around and apologizes later.

“Satoru! Are you ignoring me?!” She calls out as she walks over to the man. Satoru freezes in his spot, making eye contact with his father who shakes his head disappointedly. 

“Allison, now it’s not the time.” Satoru says through gritted teeth, not being able to even look at her. 

“What? What are you saying?” She sounds offended, and frankly, she should be. Satoru looks ashamed to be near her because he is. He feels all eyes on him since Ali isn’t exactly someone that blends into the crowd. Is this what it feels to be self-conscious? 

Satoru grabs her hand and practically drags her out of the place. She posters him, demanding he tell her what’s going on the entire time until they’re finally outside of the building. Satoru lets go and she crosses her arms, huffing and puffing as Satoru runs a hand through his hair.

He can’t lose his cool.

“Why are you here?” He asks, taking a deep breath to ensure he remains calm and collected. 

“I told you–” She begins only to be quickly interrupted by Satoru.

“Why are you actually here? Actually. First of all you come here looking like– That. You tell me you want to see my mother but immediately ask me to go out and get something together. Instead of coming back up you begin to smugly post on your social media,” Satoru is too frustrated to care about the words that leave his lips. “You’re posting for your millions of followers while you’re in a hospital. You’re supposed to be visiting my mother and you look like this.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” She’s trying to play dumb, looking down at the attire that is clearly inappropriate for the occasion. She’s ignoring everything else, knowing that she can easily win the argument if she only focuses on one detail.

“For fuck’s sake, Allison. This is a hospital not a club. You’re here to visit my sick mother, or what? Did you have other plans tonight?” Satoru argues and she scoffs. 

“Excuse me for trying to be a good girlfriend. For the record, I do want to check up on my future mother-in-law. Next time I’ll just leave you alone.” She tries to sound threatening which makes Satoru roll his eyes. Before he can get another word in, she begins to walk away. She’s not going back inside, opting to walk to her car instead. 

Satoru doesn’t care to stop her, instead he’s agreeing with everything Suguru mentioned. Maybe he should reconsider everything about this relationship. But first… He has to go back inside and face his father.

As Ali and Satoru’s six month mark comes by, you notice that Satoru comes around less often. Satoru, who would come around every few days, barely shows up every two weeks. You think it started after Ali began to joke about getting engaged, but you know why Satoru is distant. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

You remember catching her before going out, telling you that she’s about to go meet Satoru at the hospital– Before you could even question her outfit she told you that she was hoping he’d take her out to eat. It’s shocking that he didn’t break up with her right then and there, but you guess that he likes her so much that he can’t bring himself to end things. 

Though as you walk past her bedroom, you hear that some things don’t change. No matter how bad she screws things up, this detail will never change. They could be a little less loud though, they’re not alone. Or they could simply go to Satoru’s apartment since he lives alone. But no, they choose to come here.

You should probably cover your ears as you walk to the kitchen to get some water, but you’re unphased by this. It’s not the first time it happens, and it certainly won’t be the last. You won’t lie and say that you aren’t uncomfortable by the sound of it, and perhaps you’re searching for an apartment to move away soon because of how upsetting it is. But you’re slowly getting used to it.

“Oh, fuck! It’s so good!” She moans and you let out a sigh. She has no consideration for you. It’s fine, you’ll go back to your room and put on some headphones to block it out. But you freeze in your steps when you hear a voice that is not the one of her boyfriend. 

You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you come to the realization– But no, you’re not going to get involved. You grab your glass of water and walk back to your bedroom, locking the door.

You plop down on the bed, grabbing your phone to check on your social media. You have a feeling that Ali isn’t there with Satoru, and you want to check what he’s doing tonight. Satoru usually posts what he’s doing for the night in the most subtle ways. If he hasn’t posted anything, then he’s probably with Ali and you should ignore the whole situation; but you’re quickly proven right when you see Satoru posting with Suguru. 

The pictures could be from a different night though, but you notice that they were posted just a few minutes ago. Your eyes are wide, hands shaky as you stare at the picture. Regardless if they’re from nights ago or tonight, Satoru couldn’t have posted this while he’s getting busy with Ali. 

You turn off your phone and close your eyes at the realization that your best friend is cheating on her boyfriend.

You try to convince yourself that the previous night is a misunderstanding. You’re just getting the situation wrong, Ali would not do that to her boyfriend. But your best friend quickly proves you wrong when you walk out of your bedroom and see a random man in your kitchen, looking most indecent. He’s covered in love bites, confirming that you weren’t wrong in your assumptions

You almost feel like a prude for covering your eyes when you look in his direction– You would think she would try to hide it the best she could, but she doesn’t care. She’s letting him walk around freely in your apartment, even though you know she’s awake.

“Allison.” You knock on her bedroom door, and within a few seconds she opens it. Her sandy blonde hair is neatly kept, letting you know that she’s been awake for a while. She’s had enough time to get ready so she’s certainly had enough time to kick the random man that’s in your house out.

“Hi…” She bites her lip, looking guilty as ever. Just one swift look at you, and she knows that you’re not happy with her. She grabs your hand and pulls you inside before shutting the door. She doesn’t want her loverboy to hear what she has to say.

“Ali, what did you do?” You’re stern, making it clear that this isn’t a situation that you’re willing to laugh about. Maybe if Satoru deserved it you could turn a blind eye to this, but you can’t. Satoru is a great boyfriend to her.

“I’m sorry.” Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she mutters an apology. An apology that should be to Satoru and not you. “I don’t know what came over me… I told him I loved him and he just– Just ignored me.”

“Ali, that’s no reason to betray your boyfriend.” You argue, and she buries her face between her hands. She cries, only making you feel guilty for even questioning her actions. You cross your arms and look away, refusing to feel guilty for her disloyalty.

“Please don’t tell him– I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.” She pleads and you feel a heavy weight settle in your heart. No, you should tell him. Satoru doesn’t deserve this. 

Ali wraps her arms around you, resting her face on your shoulder as she continues to sob. “Please, you’re the only person I can count on.”

“Ali–” You begin, but you cut yourself off. You take a deep breath, before agreeing, “Fine. I’ll keep your secret.”

Guilt is eating you alive. The very next day, Satoru comes over and you can’t look him in the eye. You ignore him the entire time, and he notices something is up with you, but he won’t question it. If you don’t want to talk to him, then it’s your own issue. 

You feel like the responsibility of confessing to him is on your shoulders. But you don’t want to betray your best friend by doing so. She’s made her own decisions about her relationship, if you snitch the blame shouldn’t fall on you… But you still feel like it isn’t your position to tell. You’re not friends with Satoru at all, you’re friends with Ali. You feel like you’d be betraying her, not only because she’s your best friend but also because you happen to like her boyfriend. 

You’re nearly driving yourself insane as you think about it. Ultimately, you decide to stay out of it. Satoru is going to find out in his own way eventually; you’re a firm believer that the truth always comes to light eventually, and in this situation you refuse to be the catalyst. And you certainly don’t want to lose your friendship by telling him.

That is until the doorbell rings, a little later than usual on a Tuesday night. Ali isn’t home, leaving you alone to welcome the uninvited guest.

“Satoru, what are you doing here?” You question, surprised at his presence. He should know that Ali is at a brand event right now, after all, she’s gloating about it on any and every social media platform. “Ali isn’t here right now. She won’t be here in a while.”

“Actually, I’m here to talk to you.” He confesses, and you feel your stomach churn. You feel nauseous as guilt takes over you. Does he know? Is that why he’s here? He’s most definitely here to question you, and you feel nervous. 

“Oh… What is it?” You try to smile to hide the fact that you’re freaking out. But it comes off as disingenuous, and Satoru is not an idiot that won’t notice it. He’ll choose to ignore it though.

“Can I come in?” He asks, and you move to the side, inviting him to the apartment. He steps inside, and looks around the place. There’s a different vibe to the apartment when Ali is gone… It feels oddly comforting. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” You offer as you shut the door. But he shakes his head, and you feel oddly relieved by that answer. He’s not going to be here for a long time, so he’s not going to bring it up.

Before saying anything, he takes a seat on the couch. He looks around the place for another minute, and he notices that you choose to stand instead of taking a seat. You couldn’t make it any more obvious. He clears his throat before speaking up, “Is everything okay between us?”

“Yeah! Yeah, why wouldn’t they be?” You’re stumbling over words, making your statement sound false. He’s quick to spot the lie, and a frown comes to his face. You can’t keep lying to him, you know.

“Why–”

“She’s cheating on you!” You blurt out, and to your surprise, he looks unphased. You feel the need to explain yourself after his lack of reaction, a response from your nerves. “I swore I was going to stay out of it when I heard her with her friend last week– I thought it was you two again but then I realized that it wasn’t you, and I couldn’t look you in the eye after it. I didn’t want to say anything because she’s my friend but you’re a really good guy–”

And as you ramble, you fail to notice that he’s stood up and he’s taken your hands into his. He’s squeezing your hands to make you calm down as you explain your side of the story. You’re not guilty in any of this, you’re just too damn good of a friend.

“Hey, hey. I’m not mad at you.” He cuts you off when he realizes you’re on the verge of tears. If he’s being honest, he was expecting something like this to happen with her. He’s been waiting for the right moment to end things, and luckily he has the best excuse now.

“I should’ve told you sooner, I’m sorry.” You still apologize. You feel your face get warm as you realize he’s holding your hands, making you jerk them out of his grasp. “But please, don’t tell her I told you.”

“I promise I won’t.” He responds. “Thank you so much for telling me.”

“Satoru, please don’t tell her I told you.” You ask of him once again, and he nods in response. And though the weight is lifted off your shoulders, another worry begins to settle in. But you try to convince yourself that you’ll be fine. If this marks the end of your friendship with Ali, then so be it. In the end, you did the right thing.

Satoru messages Ali on a Friday night, making sure that you’re out of the apartment before coming over. The message gets Ali excited since she thinks everything is going back to normal, especially since Satoru has been acting weirder than usual. The honeymoon stage is supposed to last longer than six months, but for some reason their relationship is going through a dry spell. 

Ali begins to get ready for what she expects is going to be a steamy night. She checks the time every five minutes, waiting for Satoru to finally show up. While she promised you that she wouldn’t do it again, she’s not the type to keep a promise; especially when her needs aren’t being met. 

Meanwhile, Satoru decides how he’s going to break the news… Should he be gentle? He won’t lie and say that he isn’t butthurt about her disloyalty. He’s been thinking about ending things with her for a while, but it hurts his ego to know that she cheated on him. Maybe he should be harsh with her, after all, cheating is not a mistake one should take lightly. And Satoru is certainly mad at the offense.

He’s set on making this as quick and easy as possible, so he’ll be calm with her. He’s grown to not care for her, so being angry will just waste his time. Sure, his ego is hurt but not enough to waste minutes of precious time. He takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

“Pookie! I’m so happy that you’re here!” Ali exclaims immediately as she opens the door. She throws her arms over Satoru, hugging him tightly. Satoru does not return the hug, something that she doesn’t seem to notice.

They step inside, and Satoru awkwardly places his hands in his pockets. He’s not unfamiliar with a breakup, but it’s still awkward. Ali walks to the kitchen to get something to drink for him. Something sweet, just how he likes it.

“I’ve been thinking about you so much. I miss you.” She begins, and Satoru thinks about how to lay it on gently. She begins to tell him about a brand trip that she’s been invited to, and all the magnificent details. 

“Here.” She smiles brightly at him, handing him something to drink. Satoru hesitantly takes it from her hand, swirling the drink in his hand but not daring to bring it up to his lips. She takes a seat on the couch, waiting for him to join her. Satoru remains standing though. “You’ve been so quiet lately.”

“Yeah…” Satoru sounds awkward, but he knows that she won’t pick up on it. Satoru walks to the kitchen to put the drink on the counter, he’s not thirsty right now. 

“Is everything okay?” Ali asks, and Satoru slowly walks back to her. Her eyes keep going back and forth between him and the couch, but Satoru is opting to stand.

“My friend saw you with another guy in a compromising situation.” He finally admits, making her eyes go wide. A simple look at her, and Satoru knows that she’s ready to deny the situation. He has no proof, why is he questioning her loyalty?

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She begins, immediately giving it away that she’s guilty. She’s as pale as a ghost, something that almost earns a chuckle from Satoru in the very tense situation. He forgets about his hurt ego when he sees her reaction.

“Don’t lie to me. He said everything I need to know, and I trust him.” Satoru changes a certain detail, one that will take away all suspicions that would surround you. She’s taken back by this, and she’s not sure how to respond. She stands up from her seat, taking a step near the man.

“I only did it because you–” She’s getting defensive over her wrongdoings. Sure, she did it but she had a damn good reason– At least that’s what she thinks. “I told you I loved you and you–”

“I can’t tell you I love you when I don’t.” Satoru cuts her off, and her face gets red from embarrassment. She’s still going to hold her head high and defend her actions, even if there’s no good explanation for her decisions. “I was going to end things with you eventually, but what you’ve done is unforgivable. I liked the possibility of us being friends but… I don’t think I can do that either.”

“Satoru, we can talk about this.” Ali begins when she realizes that Satoru won’t care for any reasoning. He’s set on ending things. She’s stepping toward him, and when she’s within reach, she grabs his hands. “We can work things out, let’s not throw everything away–”

“You threw everything away. There’s no way in hell I’d get back with you after you cheated.” He interrupts her once again. It’s just like Suguru said, she’s very superficial. “You told me you loved me, yet you went with the first guy you could find because I needed some time. What does that say about your character or your feelings toward me? Do you even care about me?” 

“I do! I was just– Feeling so low. I was tipsy and made a mistake.” She tries to explain her side, and Satoru takes his hands from her grasp. He doesn’t want to spend another minute here to hear stupid excuses for horrible actions– Horrible actions that hurt his ego but he doesn’t care about as much as he should. He was over with the relationship for a while now.

“I don’t care for a reason. This is over.” Satoru says, taking a step backwards. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. We’re both mature enough to not make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but Satoru walks away before she can get a word out. He doesn’t care enough to hear what she has in mind, so she’s forced to swallow her words.

You’ve never seen Ali as devastated as she is now. She’s crying on your shoulder, telling you how much she regrets her actions. It’s good to hear that she’s learned from her mistakes, but you feel extremely guilty knowing that your best friend is heartbroken because you couldn’t keep a secret. Deep down, you know you did the right thing but still feel bad while your best friend is sobbing over her now ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do– He was so perfect.” She sobs, and you hear your heart breaking. You should’ve just bit your tongue about it. 

You have conflicting feelings for Satoru, but you were rooting for them. You’d never wish harm on your best friend, and you didn’t tell him with the hopes that they’d break up. Cheating isn’t something that you can keep quiet about, even if it’s a mistake from your best friend.

“You’ll be okay, Ali. He wasn’t worth it.” You embrace her, hand rubbing her back to soothe her. You don’t believe the words leave your lips, but you’ll say just about anything to comfort her. You know her, she’s more upset about the fact that she got dumped than her so-called love for Satoru. 

“You’re such a liar! He was perfect!” She cries, and you can’t argue with it. You’re at a loss of words– What’s the next step that you should take? You can’t reprimand her and remind her that these are the consequences of her actions. “He’s blocked me everywhere. I’ve been trying to message him on social media but I can’t find his accounts.”

“Maybe you should let this go. There’s no way to go back from this.” You try to tell her, but your words fall on deaf ears. You know her, she’s not listening to anything she doesn’t want to hear. Ali wants something, and she’ll get it no matter the cost. 

She’s looking up at you with glossy eyes, desperate to get what she wants. You know the look in her eyes. She’s determined to get back with him, and she needs your help. Before she can mutter something out, you speak, “No. I’m not getting involved.”

“Please– Please, please, please. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She pleads, putting her hands together to beg. You look away, not willing to fall for her trap. You feel the guilt of telling Satoru, slowly eat you alive; you know you did the right thing, but why do you feel so bad?

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and you’re a pretty girl. He’s not all that.” You answer, once again not believing a single word you say. You have to make her drop this absurd idea of getting back with Satoru though, and you’re willing to make up any lie.

She takes her head off your shoulder, dramatically crossing her arms and pouting like a child. You let out a sigh, knowing that this stupid idea of getting back with Satoru is not getting dropped any time soon.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like him.” She murmurs, and you feel your face get hot. You don’t say anything because you’d surely give away your feelings by uttering a single word. 

“We’ll talk again when you grow up.” You stand up from the couch, planning to leave her behind to sort out her intense emotions. But just as you’re about to walk away, she speaks up,

“Please, do this one thing for me and then I’ll leave you alone.” And you look back at her, the desperation in her eyes getting to you. She’s in this position because of you. The least you can do is help her out.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips before you mutter out, “Fine.”

Ali has an insane power over you, and it’s clear when she strings you along in her ridiculous plan. Though there is no plan, she just wants you to show up at Satoru’s place and beg. She can’t show up anymore since he threatened her with a restraining order (thinking about it, you’re not sure why you agreed to come), so she pushed you to show up. 

Though you aren’t exactly doing what she wants you to do.

You texted Satoru in the morning, asking him if you could meet up to talk. Surprisingly, he agreed. You have no idea how to proceed though. How will you even bring up the topic without getting completely turned down?

Your mind is racing to find the answer as you sit down outside the café. You’re bouncing your leg, feeling your nerves rise as you wait for Satoru’s arrival. Ali is inside, trying to hide as her stupid plan unravels. You’re like her puppet, and you fail to notice.

“Hi.” You’re startled by a welcoming voice. You look up to find Satoru with a subtle smile on his face. You stand up to greet him, though he assures you it isn’t necessary. 

His eyes look you up and down, and your face gets hot at the mere thought that he’s checking you out– No, it’s absurd. He wouldn’t be into you in any way. Ali is his type, and you’re nothing like her.

“I’m going in. Do you want anything? I heard you also like sweet stuff.” Satoru offers, and you’re about to shake your head since you don’t want Satoru spending a single cent on you; but then you remember Ali is also inside.

“I’ll get it, what do you want?” You quickly ask and he raises a brow. 

“It’s fine, I need to walk a little more before stuffing my face.” He replies, and you insist. He lets out a chuckle at your insistence before telling you, “I’ll ignore Allison, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh– You know about that.” You awkwardly respond, and Satoru nods.

“You don’t think I’m dumb enough to not know, right? You’re too good to her, you wouldn’t reach out even though–” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. He doesn’t want to embarrass you. “I know you’re here for her.”

“Then why did you come?” You question, earning a shrug for him. Before you can pressure him to give you a proper answer, he walks inside the café to get himself a treat. You take a seat once again, and instead of focusing on your initial goal, your mind fills up with questions. 

He’s not here because he likes you… Right? No. Absolutely not. You quickly shake that thought out of your head. It’s not that you’re not beautiful, but compared to Ali you’re nothing. Your whole life you’ve always come second to her, and this situation is no different. Even if Satoru were to make a move on you, it’d be to get some sort of revenge on Ali. 

As your mind races and goes through every possible scenario, Satoru comes back with a coffee and two treats. He places a delicious dessert in front of you before sitting down across from you. Your eyes get big at the sight of the sweet dish, your mouth salivating. It sure manages to push away any and all thoughts that were flooding your brain. 

“What is this?” You ask, and he looks like he’s fighting back a smile.

“Just thought you might like it.” He acts unbothered. You lick your lips, about to taste the dessert but you end up holding back. You simply watch him sip on his beverage. You’re reminded that you’re here to help Ali out.

“How have you been holding up? Has the breakup been hitting you hard?” You ask, though you know the question is useless. Satoru has never looked better. A great weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and it’s noticeable. 

“Sure, you can say that.” He chuckles, taking the question as a joke. “Give me your proposal. What is she offering?”

“Apologies.” There’s an unintentional mocking tone in your voice. Satoru’s brows raise as he picks up on it, but he quickly assumes that you don’t do it on purpose. “She really is sorry, Satoru. She regrets her decision, and she really misses you.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says, and before you can say anything, he speaks up again, “I still don’t want anything to do with her. You of all people should know that cheating isn’t the only thing that led to this.”

“Ali is a good person… She’s just out of it sometimes.” You defend her, and Satoru laughs. “She misses you so much, and it hurts to see my best friend in this much pain.”

“You’re too good for her.” He replies, and you hate to hear those words. She’s your best friend, you’re not too good for her– You’re just doing everything that a best friend should be doing.

“I’m doing what I should be doing. She loves you, Satoru.” You point out, and he scoffs. She told him that she loves him, but that’s hard to believe. Satoru’s gotten to know Ali, and he knows that she has a certain way with words. She’s not very convincing to Satoru though.

“Why should you be involved in this? You’re a great friend, but she’s not one. If she was, she wouldn’t get you involved in this.” Satoru responds, and you sigh. You don’t want to begin that conversation, mainly because you know there’s some truth to his words. 

“I should get involved because she’s suffering.” You argue, and Satoru wants to laugh. Suffering, right. She’s too self-absorbed to care about someone else. 

“Can’t she just get a new boyfriend? Why does it have to be me?” He asks, and you furrow your brows. 

“What do you mean? Who else would it be?” You question. “You can’t easily fall in and out of love.”

“She’s not in love with me though. She just likes attention and expensive things, something a lot of other men can offer.” Satoru points out, making you bite your lip. He’s not entirely wrong but you still choose to defend your best friend.

“She does love you, Satoru. She’s been crying to me about this for so long. She misses you.” You defend her, and Satoru clicks his tongue.

“Will you taste the dessert I got you? I want to see if you like it.” Satoru tries to change the topic, and you puff out a breath. It’s not going to kill you to taste it, and you’ll quickly go back to the subject.

You take a small bite, and your eyes light up as you begin to savor the food in front of you. Satoru is watching your every move, finding your expression amusing. For the second, you completely forget why you’re here. 

“Is it good?” Satoru asks, and you excitedly nod your head. It’s good to know that he made the right decision. He watches you take another bite before standing up. The topic of Ali is tired, and he knows that it’s the only type of conversation he’ll get from you today. He knew that the whole reason you asked him to meet up was to talk about Ali, but he doesn’t regret coming.

“Where are you going?” You sound funny, your mouth full of food as Satoru grabs his drink. It’s obvious he’s leaving, but you ask with the slight hope that you’re wrong. 

“For the record, I came here because it’s always nice to talk to you.” Satoru tells you, and you raise your eyebrows in confusion. He clears his throat before pointing inside, “We can meet up again soon, just not with her around.”

“Wait–! We’re not done here.” You try to stop him but Satoru turns his back to you and begins to walk away. 

Unluckily for Ali, you’re not running after him to talk. He’s made his decision and you aren’t willing to interfere in their relationship anymore. And unluckily for you, you know that Ali won’t accept the decision and continue to press you about the matter. 

Satoru furrows his eyebrows as he sees the long line of the shop. He thought that showing up early would reduce the amount of people in the place, but he’s been proven wrong. He can’t help but sigh, knowing that he’ll spend at least twenty minutes waiting just to get a treat. But all the time in line is worth it.

Satoru looks around the place, hoping that he’ll find something– Even if he stands so far away that he can’t make out anything he sees. He freezes when he sees a familiar head of curly brown hair, way ahead in line. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before stepping forward.

“Which one should I get?” You mutter yourself, mouth watering as your eyes scan all the desserts behind the glass. 

“The macaroons look good.” You’re startled by an all too familiar voice. You put your hand over your heart, feeling as if it’s about to beat out of your chest as you look at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, as if it’s impossible for you to end up in the same place. You know he has a sweet tooth as well, it shouldn’t be a surprise to find him here. You look back, and see the long line behind you. “Oh, you’re using me to cut line, I see.”

“Can’t you believe I just wanted to greet you?” Satoru responds, and you chuckle. 

“It’s fine. You can use me.” You respond, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s weird to talk to him without using Ali as an excuse. “I’ve been waiting for a while, it’s fine.”

“Did you just get off work?” Satoru asks and you nod. “What do you do? I’m sorry I never–”

“Hurry up! We’re waiting!” Someone cuts off the conversation, and you feel your face get warm from embarrassment. Satoru glares back at them, as if he has the right. He did cut the line, but he doesn’t care. 

“I’ll take two of those.” You tell the worker behind the counter. You don’t even look at the food that you’re pointing at, you just want to get out of line. “Pick what you want.”

His order is more intricate than yours. It’s clear that he would’ve waited an hour if he had to.

“I’ll pay.” He insists when you get to the register, and you want to argue with him that you got yourself covered. But he pays before you can even open your mouth.

“Thank you.” You’re forced to thank him when you exit the store. You expect to go your separate ways, after leaving the place but Satoru offers,

“How about we take a seat? I want to talk to you.” 

“Oh– Yeah.” You respond. You bite down your lip before telling him, “I’m a tech analyst, by the way.”

“Huh– Oh, yeah.” Satoru replies. He stares at your face for a moment before letting out a low laugh. “I would’ve never guessed.” 

“Well now you know.”

Ali calms down a couple of months after her breakup with Satoru. She certainly leaves you alone about the matter which you’re grateful for. You’re more than willing to help your best friend with any issue, but her relationship with Satoru is a mess you’d rather stay out of.

Knowing Ali, she’s certainly not given up on Satoru. She’s just leaving you out of the mess, and by doing so, she’s completely forgotten about you. Even though you miss your friend, you certainly don’t mind not being involved in her romantic issues.

You know that she’s looking for ways to get close to Satoru again, not knowing that using you again would actually offer some sort of result this time around. But you wouldn’t dare tell her. 

It wasn’t something you planned out, it just happened. Your shared love for sweets led you to the same shop in town– And you keep meeting up by chance. There aren't many shops in the area like that one. Sure, you can buy a dessert anywhere, but you won’t find the variety and quality anywhere else in town; it’s what attracts you two to the same place.

You met a handful of times by chance, and each time you began to talk. Conversation flowed smoothly each time, which led you to talk more on the phone. Now you’re texting to meet up, agreeing to grab a sweet treat at least once a week. You slightly feel guilty for meeting him behind Ali’s back, but you know that you aren’t doing anything wrong.

You’re simply friends with Satoru. Everything is completely platonic.

“I got this for you.” Satoru puts down a little box on the table, sliding it over to you. Your eyes narrow as you try to decipher what’s in the box. You wonder what he’s picked for you. While you’ve gotten close, you doubt that he’s really noticed your preferences in sweets. 

“You didn’t have to, thank you.” You immediately respond, opening the box to find your favorite dessert. Your eyes widen, a smile coming to your face as you realize that he’s noticed what your favorite kind of treat is. It’s sweet to know that he’s noticed. “I really appreciate it, Satoru.”

“It was no problem.” He smiles back at you. He’s always buying something for you, making you feel special in a way that he’d never guess. You almost feel guilty for never getting him something in return.

“Do you want a bit?” You offer, but he quickly shakes his head. He got it for you because he knows that you like it, but he isn’t particularly fond of the dessert that he got you. You look delighted with his response, making Satoru scoff.

“You do know the place has more, right? It wouldn’t kill you to share either.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him jokingly. “You can enjoy your yucky dessert alone, don’t worry.”

“Yucky? Really?” You respond and he hums in response. “You sound like a child.”

“I can’t find a more fitting word.” He replies which makes you giggle. He can criticize the food all he wants, as long as you don’t have to share. Satoru clears his throat before speaking up again, “You know, I was thinking–”

“This is so good.” You unintentionally cut him off as you taste what he got you. You swear you’re in heaven with the first taste. You don’t understand how Satoru doesn’t like it, but it’s fine, you’re happy as long as you don’t have to share. Satoru chuckles at your reaction.

“I really don’t understand why you like it so much. There’s so many other options.” He says, but you don’t pay much attention to what he has to say. And just like that, the courage for what he was going to say is completely gone. “But if it makes you happy.”

“You know something? You’re actually a really picky eater. I never figured you as the type.” You tell him, and Satoru clicks his tongue. You aren’t wrong though. “I did cut you off, didn’t I? What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, dismissing the topic. You furrow your brows, getting curious as to what you interrupted. 

“Are you sure?” You question and he nods in response. The reason you’re here today is because Satoru texted you that he wanted to talk about something. You seriously doubt that the reason he’s here is to simply give you a free dessert. “I don’t buy it.”

“You’re right.” He sighs. He bites his lip, fidgeting his fingers. He’s feeling nervous, something that rarely comes to him. Satoru has the right to feel confident in every situation– But he’s not sure how to approach this considering the weird dynamic that you have. He finally spits out, “How about we go on a date? Would you like that?”

“Satoru–” You’re caught speechless. You slowly blink, feeling as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Did you hear that right? You begin to laugh, as if Satoru just told you some sort of joke. “You got me.”

“I’m not joking.” Satoru almost sounds offended by your response.

“I– I can’t, Satoru.” You answer, feeling dirty for even saying that. You like him– It’s no longer a stupid crush anymore. After spending time with him, and getting to know him better, you’ve realized that you like him as a person. You’re not just attracted to him. You can picture a future with him, although you shouldn’t. 

“Why?” He asks. He knows you like him, he’s known for a long time. It’s clear that you two have chemistry. You didn’t just say no, you specifically told him that you can’t. “If it’s about Ali–”

“I’m sorry.” You stand up. You walk away, leaving your dessert half eaten. 

“Should’ve known.” Satoru mutters, quickly followed by a sigh. It’s clear that you like him, but your loyalty towards Ali is stronger.

“Hey… What are you doing here?” Satoru opens the door, only to find you completely distressed. It’s almost midnight, so he’s shocked to find you at his door. You look distressed– It’s clear to him that you’ve just woken up, given that you’re wearing your glasses instead of your usual contacts. “If it’s about earlier–”

“We have to talk.” You cut him off, and Satoru moves to the side to let you in. You take a deep breath before stepping into his apartment. You awkwardly look around the place, wondering why you’re here. You’re listening to your heart instead of your brain, you should turn around and go back to your best friend.

“What do you want to say?” He asks, shutting the door behind him. He steps near you, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest. 

“I was thinking about it… I do like you, Satoru.” You confess, something that isn’t news to Satoru. He’s known for a while. It was clear that you were trying to hide it, so it wasn’t something that concerned him while he was with Ali.

You sigh, “But Ali’s been my friend since childhood. She loves you. I can’t do this to her.”

“Please…” Satoru grabs your hand, putting it over his beating heart. You feel your face get warm, looking up at him to make eye contact. “You shouldn’t be unhappy for her.”

“We make great friends, Satoru. I can’t hurt her like this.” You tell him, hating yourself for the words that leave your mouth. If you were anyone else, you’d jump at the opportunity to be with him, but you can’t do that to your best friend. “I came here to tell you that. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You know that we’d go really great together.” He tries to convince you, and you know he isn’t wrong. You look into his adoring eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat. “You can’t base your decisions on her feelings.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter as your hands go to the back of his neck, bringing him down to meet your lips. You’re not apologizing to him, that part is clear to him when your soft lips meet his. You’re listening to your heart and not your mind for once. Though it swells with guilt, the feeling is overshadowed.

Satoru shuts his eyes, giving in to the soft feeling of your lips against his. You pull away, your gaze meeting his adoring eyes for a moment. You shouldn’t, yet your lips meet again. It starts sweet, but his wandering hands escalate things. Your tongue enters his mouth as his hands land on your ass. 

You feel as if your body is burning up as your tongue presses against his. You need him in every explicable way. Your body needs more. Satoru picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, gently putting you down on his bed. Are things going too fast? Or has this been brewing up for a while? Either way, things aren’t stopping now.

He pulls away, taking off your glasses and putting them down on his nightstand before focusing all his attention on you. He cups your face and lovingly kisses you as your fingers trace down his body and stop at his sweatpants. 

You escalate things by pulling down his sweatpants, unable to waste any more time. You pull away from the kiss. You look up at him with dark, lust-filled eyes. As he pulls away, you push down his underwear. 

You shouldn’t be surprised by his size, but he’s bigger than average. Your hand wraps around the base and you give it a couple of strokes before your tongue circles around the tip. You start off slow and unsure, but quickly become confident as you hear a soft moan leave Satoru’s lips.

You lick his length before fully wrapping your mouth around it, taking as much as you can get. 

You bob your head slowly, starting off slow. It’s not how he usually likes to start off things, but right now he swears he’s in heaven with how your mouth feels around his cock. It feels so perfect around him. 

Your bobs begin to pick up a bit of speed, and he bites down his lip. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself by being too loud, even if it is because you’re making him feel good. He stares down at you, watching as you suck him off with no problem, looking so perfect while you’re preoccupied. He sighs, relieved. 

You look up at him, wanting his approval. He’s a little too caught up in his own feelings, too engrossed with how your mouth feels around him. He can’t form a sentence to praise you on how good you’re doing. 

He grabs the back of your head and pushes your head so you gag on his cock. As gentle as he wants to be with you, he can’t hold back for too long. You’re gagging on his dick, tears filling up your eyes and quickly spilling as he makes you take every inch of his dick in your mouth. 

“Fuck– Fuck-” He moans, watching as a couple of tears leave your eyes. It should be a sin for someone to look so pretty as they begin to cry. He finally lets go of you, allowing you to retake control of the narrative. “Your mouth is too perfect.”

You take his dick out of your mouth, stroking it a couple of times before wrapping your mouth around it again. Satoru’s breath gets caught up in his throat as his release nears. 

He shuts his eyes, throwing his head back, groaning in pleasure as his come hits the back of your throat. You take his cock out of your mouth and before you can say a word, his lips land on yours again.

Satoru wastes no time in getting you undressed. He makes sure to praise every inch of your body, kissing every corner. He wants you to know just how much he likes you, and how attractive he finds you. There is no better way to tell you than just by kissing every inch of your body. 

“Get on all fours.” He tells you, and you waste no time. Satoru takes a moment to look at your pretty pussy before spitting on it a couple of times. 

Satoru aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy, running the tip through your folds and teasing you. Satoru slowly pushes himself inside of you, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loudly moan as his thick cock stretches you out. 

Satoru’s hands go to your hips, searching for balance before he begins to move. The man can’t help but loudly moan as he feels your tight pussy wrap around him. You’re so perfect, it’s going to drive him insane. He hasn’t properly tasted you yet but he’s surely to get obsessed. 

“It’s so good!” You moan, his cock filling you up just right. You hate to admit that you’ve thought about this moment so many times, but you never imagined it’d be this good. It’s hard to feel guilty when your body feels this amazing.

Your back arches as your head presses against the mattress, muffling any noise that comes from your mouth. Satoru slaps your ass as his eyes watch it jiggle with his every movement. He can’t keep his eyes off it. 

“You’re so tight.” Satoru tells you through gritted teeth. He holds back on moaning, not wanting to sound too pathetic as he fucks you. It’s hard when your cunt is so nice and tight around him though.

“It’s so good, daddy.” You moan, stumbling over your words. Satoru can die and go to heaven when he hears you call him daddy. Everything you do is so perfect, he can’t believe he’s waited so long to pursue you.

One of your hands goes under and you begin to play with your clit, making you squeeze around his cock. He moans your name out of pure pleasure. He’s surely going to be thinking about this for days on end. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. 

“Daddy, it’s so good!” You stop playing with your clit, your hands gripping the silk sheets underneath as your orgasm takes over your body.

“Good girl. You’re doing so good.” Satoru breathlessly praises you, knowing that he won’t last much longer. He isn’t alone though. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, orgasm rapidly approaching. 

Your body finally spasms, reaching your peak. Satoru slaps your ass a couple of times, praising you for being so good and so perfect for finishing around his cock. He keeps telling you how perfect you are, moaning your name. He’s making you feel like a goddess.

Satoru’s thrusts become unregulated. It’s hard for him to contain himself, but he doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want you to come to your senses yet. He wants to stay like this for a while. Alas, he can’t hold himself back forever. 

He pulls his cock out, coating your ass with his cum. He swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight– Apart from your face, of course. But your ass being coated with his cum is a close second.

“That was–” Satoru plops down on the bed beside you, as you lay on your stomach. He’s out of breath, and needs a moment. “Amazing.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring at him as he looks at the ceiling. 

Maybe you’ll regret it in the morning, but not right now. Right now, you feel euphoric.

Your hand goes to his face, thumb caressing his cheek. He looks back at you so lovingly, and your heart skips a beat.

“We’re not done yet.” You tell him, and a smile comes to Satoru’s face.

He couldn’t agree more.

The sunlight peeks into the room, causing you to open your eyes first thing in the morning. You slowly take in your surroundings, realizing that you’re not back at your place. You feel a heavy arm over your body, cuddling you. It takes you a minute to remember the events of last night before you quickly sit up on the bed.

You feel your face get hot, embarrassment quickly flowing through you. Quickly followed by regret. No, you shouldn’t be here. You do like him, otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up last night… But doing this to your own best friend? You don’t know how you could ever face her again after this.

“Go back to sleep.” A sleepy Satoru mutters, and as much as your sore body wants to lay back down, you can’t. You’re pulling the bed sheets off your body and searching for your scattered clothes. Satoru ends up fully waking up when he realizes what you’re doing. You’re leaving as if this is a one-night-stand.

“Please don’t ever tell anyone that this happened.” You tell him, grabbing your bra from the floor. Satoru’s eyes focus on your ass– Granted, it’s the worst time to focus on your ass, but it’s hard to ignore when it looks so perfect in front of him. Your next words bring him back to reality, “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He calls out your name, making you freeze in your spot. You’re hesitant to look back at him, but you end up doing it. “You know you don’t regret it.”

“I– I don’t.” You can’t lie to him. You try to continue to get dressed to get out of the apartment as fast as possible. You’re scared that you’re going to commit another mistake if you stay for too long.

“Why don’t you stay?” Satoru asks, and you can’t give him an answer. He knows why, but he needs you to say it for you to realize how ridiculous you sound. “You shouldn’t put yourself second. Ali made her own mistakes, and you shouldn’t pay for them.”

“She’s my best friend, Satoru. She loves you.” You respond, and Satoru scoffs. It’s too early to deal with this. How many times does he have to tell you that she doesn’t love him for you to drop the subject. “I know that she doesn’t deserve another chance with you, but I can’t do this to her.”

“Do what to her? She’s going to move on eventually, and you’re just going to be miserable. You’re passing up on a great relationship for a girl that doesn’t care about you enough.” It’s harsh, but Satoru can’t help but tell you the truth. As painful as it is. If he isn’t harsh with you, you’ll never open your eyes.

“You’re right.” You end up sighing. You take a seat on the bed again, mind heavy with thoughts. 

“If you want this to stop now, we can end it now.” He says, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Just know that we like each other, and there’s actually nothing keeping us apart.”

For a long minute, the room is silent. He’s right, as much as you don’t want to admit it. There’s no reason for you to not be together. Ali won’t react well, but you’re not going to let her dictate your life. 

“You’re right.” You respond, and you watch as his face lights up. “But please, let’s keep this a secret for now. Until I figure out what to say to Ali.”

“My lips are sealed.”

There’s something up your sleeve, and Ali can’t help but notice. She doesn’t know when it started, but one day she realized that the place was dirty. Dishes were piling up, the floor needed to be mopped and she didn’t have a single article of clean clothes. 

Even when you found out that she cheated on Satoru, you continued to do everything for her, so she wonders if something is wrong with you… The place is filthy, time is running out and she refuses to pick up a single dish. You’ve always taken it as your responsibility to do every chore in the house, you can’t just stop now. What could she have possibly done to upset you this time? She tries to talk to you about the subject, but when she knocks on your door, you’re not home.

That’s not the only thing though. When you do come home, she notices you have some expensive items. Items that you’d never willingly spend money on, she knows that much about you. The signs are all there: you’re seeing someone.

“Hi, babe.” Ali startles you when you get home, a little past midnight. You’re a bit disheveled, making it clear what you were up to. She stayed up for you, waiting for you on the couch, and it makes you feel uneasy.

“Hi, Ali.” You sheepishly smile at her, feeling as if you’ve somehow gotten caught. You cover up your tracks damn well, you know that she has no way of knowing that you’re dating Satoru behind her back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” She responds. You feel your breath get caught up in your chest, waiting for her to say something else. You begin to take small, subtle steps to your room as she makes up her mind. “Are you mad at me?”

“No… Why would I be?” You question, though you know why she asks. She’s worried because you’re barely coming around. 

“You’re seeing someone then, right?” She asks, standing up from the couch and stepping towards you. You feel your hands get shaky, nerves taking over you.

“No– Why do you ask?” You slightly stumble over your words, and you hope that she doesn’t notice. You hope that Satoru is right about your best friend when he says that she’s too self absorbed to care about anyone else but herself. 

“You’re here late and…” She looks you up and down, judgment written all over her face. “You look like that.” 

“I just had a rough day.” You claim, trying to play it off. Much to your dismay, she snatches the purse that you hold in your hands. She closely inspects it, trying to check if it’s authentic. You should’ve known better than to accept Satoru’s very expensive gifts.

“It’s real. You wouldn’t spend this much money on a purse.” She points out, and you get increasingly nervous. You snatch the purse back before answering,

“Is it that hard to believe that I would slowly save up for a purse?” 

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. It’s very clear that you’re seeing someone, but you won’t tell. You’ll come around eventually, she just has to give you the cold shoulder for a while– She’s not too sure if it’ll work this time around. 

She dramatically turns away from you and begins to walk to her room, taking small steps to give you time to speak up. But you don’t say anything. On the contrary, you begin to walk to your room as well.

“You’re the worst.” You stick out your tongue at Satoru, getting mad at the 4+ card that he puts down on the deck. You wish you could easily take defeat, but your boyfriend sure loves to brag about his victories. He drives you insane.

“The worst? Why? Because I’m better than you?” Satoru is so smug about it, and you’re filled with rage. You take deep breaths, reminding yourself that this is just a game. 

“You suck!” You respond, throwing your cards on the coffee table. Satoru chuckles, watching you stand up and head to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, making him follow like a lost puppy. 

He engulfs you in a hug, filling up your face with kisses. He mutters baseless apologies for his great luck and strategy for the game. You’re trying to push him away, but he’s too overbearing. 

“Hi, guys.” You hear and your blood runs cold as you hear an all too familiar voice. You finally manage to stop Satoru, who looks unphased by Shoko’s voice. You’ve been caught, yet he doesn’t seem to care.

“Jeez, have you heard of knocking?” Satoru finally looks at the woman, who holds up the apartment key. 

“I came here to pick something up. Suguru left his jacket here.” She looks around for the item she came for, not really questioning why Satoru was kissing you. 

“We– We can explain.” You begin, and she furrows her brows in a confused manner as she looks back at you. 

“What is there to explain? Satoru told us that you’re dating.” She answers, and you glare at the man that stands right next to you. He looks just as confused as Shoko by your reaction.

“Was I not supposed to?” He questions, and you cross your arms.

“I told you that this is a secret.” You mutter. 

“Yeah, a secret from Allison. Not my friends.” Satoru reiterates, and you sigh. So his friends know, great. It’s only a matter of time before your best friend finds out as well. You have to find the right time to break the news to her before she finds out on her own.

“Satoru…” You shake your head disappointedly. You want to show off your relationship as much as possible, so you’re not hiding this because you want to. You’re doing what’s best for your relationship for Ali– As selfish as it is to do this to Satoru.

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.” He apologizes, as a heavy weight sets on your shoulders. You have to tell her eventually, you can’t keep your relationship a secret forever. 

“I have to–” You begin, but you’re cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Shoko grabs it from the coffee table and hands it to you, a look of annoyance coming to her face on your part. You feel your heart drop, looking back at your boyfriend. “It’s her.”

“Just pick up the phone. She won’t call you unless it’s an emergency.” Satoru tells you. He’s noticed that your best friend rarely communicates with you; granted, unless she needs something from you. 

“Hi, Ali.” You answer the phone, stepping away from Satoru because you’re scared that a single breath from him will get you caught. Satoru keeps his gaze on you as you talk to your best friend. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“What happened?” Satoru mouths, but you ignore him as you comfort your best friend. You stay on the line for another minute before hanging up. 

“A family member of hers died, and she wants me to go with her back to our hometown.” You answer, and Satoru raises his brows. He won’t ask who, it’s too intrusive. You’re together, but there’s some things about Ali that you refuse to tell him because you feel like you’re telling too much about your best friend. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Satoru isn’t sure how else to respond. You kiss his cheek before walking over to the couch to grab your stuff.

“I have to go. She sounds pretty devastated.” You tell him, and Satoru purses his lips together. The great night that he had planned has been ruined, and for Ali of all people. But he tries to pull his feelings to the side, knowing that there’s a possibility that you’re affected by all of this. After all, you and Ali grew up together. 

“Do you need anything? I can–” He begins, only to be interrupted by you.

“I didn’t know him well, he was one of Ali’s uncles and I saw him maybe a handful of times.” You reassure him, somehow managing to read his mind. “But… Can I ask something from you?”

“Anything.” He responds.

“Please refrain from communicating. Right now is not the time to break the news to Ali.” 

Satoru is slowly dying inside, knowing that he can’t contact you in any way. For two weeks, he’s forced to blankly stare at his phone, hoping that you’ll send him a message. It doesn’t have to be long, just a sign of life from you.

He’s told his parents about you. It’s obvious that he takes this relationship very seriously, and he sees a future with you– One that he never saw with Ali. Which means he’s miserable knowing that he can’t contact you. He counts down the hours till he gets to know that you’re coming back.

It’s fair to say that he’s overjoyed when you finally call. He wants to pick up the phone immediately, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate by picking up within the first ring. He waits a couple of seconds before bringing up the phone to his ear.

“Hi, baby. I miss you.” Satoru immediately says, not helping his case of not looking desperate. There’s only so much he can do though.

“Hi.” You’re not as affectionate as he is, which lets him know that you’re not alone. He wonders why you’re calling when she’s nearby but at the same time he couldn’t give a damn. As long as he gets to hear your voice, he’s happy. “I’m calling to let you know I’m back home.”

“When can we meet?” He quickly asks, hoping that you’ll say tonight. He’s quickly filled with disappointment when you tell him,

“Are you going to Suguru’s party tomorrow night? How about there?” You suggest. He bites down his lip, holding back a sigh. It’s better than waiting for days on end.

“Yeah… I’ll see you then.” He responds, hoping that you’ll say something more. But you end up hanging up the phone before he can get another word in.

He still can’t help but smile, realizing that he’ll finally see you tomorrow.

Satoru bounces his leg anxiously, waiting for you to finally show up at Suguru’s apartment. You’re late– At least a lot of people are showing up before you which is rare. You usually show up early to things, but you’re still not here. Perhaps Satoru is a little earlier than usual today; he’s simply too excited with the fact that he’ll finally see you. It feels like an eternity since the last time he saw your face.

He can’t wait to hold you or kiss you again, which is why he’s impatient. He’s slowly becoming needy by your side, and he isn’t particularly mad about it. 

“Hey–” He excitedly greets you, standing up from the couch to hug you but he freezes in his spot when he sees your best friend right behind you. The smile on his face drops, realizing that his plans for tonight have been delayed even further. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah… Me neither.” You try to play it off. You watch as your best friend happily greets your boyfriend, only to be ignored by Satoru. 

“Shoko!” You call out, walking over to her since you don’t want to awkwardly be put in the position of being between Satoru and Ali. No matter what you say to her, she’s still going to do everything in her power to flirt with him. As uncomfortable as it is to know that your best friend is hitting on your boyfriend, you know that you’re doing something wrong by dating him so you won’t intervene.

“How are you, Satoru? I haven’t seen you in a while.” She begins, only for the man to completely ignore her and follow after you. He doesn’t bother to hide it, but he knows that she won’t notice. She thinks that you’re beneath her, she doesn’t think that he’s following after you. 

“What is she doing here?” He asks you as he approaches you. He interrupts Shoko as she speaks to you, and Shoko crosses her arms, annoyed that she’s been cut off by Satoru.

“They’re best friends, why wouldn’t she be here?” Shoko argues, and Satoru clicks his tongue. 

“I didn’t ask you.” Satoru glares at Shoko. Knowing Suguru, he most definitely didn’t invite Ali. 

“She’s feeling a little down and asked if she could tag along.” You answer, and Satoru hates the fact that you’re such a great friend– Especially to such an undeserving woman like Ali. Satoru gives you an unintentional but nasty look and you kiss his cheek, “I couldn’t say no to her–”

“She saw that.” Shoko quickly tells you, and you begin to panic only for Shoko to laugh in your face. “I was joking, but man, that look on your face is priceless.”

“Shoko!” You yell and she laughs even harder than before. You roll your eyes at her before turning your attention to Satoru,

“I think it’s best if we stay away from each other for the night… I’ll come over after the party.” Which makes the man sigh. He got too excited for tonight, only for Ali to ruin it all. “I don’t want her to think something’s up if we’re attached to the hip tonight. She’s still very fragile.”

“Fine.” Satoru agrees. As much as he thinks that Ali is undeserving of you, he won’t go against your wishes. Though his night had suddenly turned sour.

Ali has lost track of time. She’s been chasing around Satoru the entire night, all to no avail. It’s like he’s running away from her. But that doesn’t seem plausible in her head. Why would Satoru want to run away from her?

She asks around, hoping that one of his friends can pinpoint where Satoru is and lead her to him. She doesn’t seem to realize that the majority of the people she talks to are Satoru’s friends, all who know the type of person she is. All of them who luckily keep their mouths shut about you.

“Where is he?” She questions, going upstairs when she comes to the realization that he isn’t anywhere on the first floor. Is he upstairs with somebody else? Surely Satoru hasn’t moved on yet… Right? No, he wouldn’t.

Ali chases after him, hoping to have a conversation with him where she can explain her truth. Her side of things about the very straightforward mistake that she made. She hopes that a couple of tears are going to be able to move him. After all, who can say no to her? 

She confidently opens a door, only for her eyes to widen when she sees what’s happening. Her blood runs cold before it begins to boil at the sight. You’re on top of Satoru. You’re kissing him. He’s kissing you back. 

No, this can’t be happening. She pinches herself, checking if what she sees is a dream. But no. Satoru has moved on, and with you of all people. How pathetic. Satoru Gojo can get just about any woman he wants and he’d choose you?

“What the fuck?!” She yells, causing you to come to an abrupt stop. Your eyes widen at the sight of your best friend, and you begin to panic. But before you can even get a word out, Ali grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you off Satoru. “You stupid little bitch.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You cry out as she begins to hit you. You’re not doing anything to stop her because it’s something that you genuinely believe you deserve. A good friend wouldn’t date their best friend’s ex-boyfriend. 

“Allison, let go of her.” Satoru tries to pull her off you, but he’s unable to unless he uses force. He doesn’t want to harm Ali in any way, knowing that it’ll upset you. Even when she’s pulling your hair and scratching you like a cat. 

“You call yourself my best friend and this is what you do?! You’re a stupid homewrecker.” She spits on you, and it drives Satoru over the edge. He’ll deal with the repercussions later but he can’t stand to watch it. He forcibly pushes Ali off you, making her back harshly hit the wall.

“Are you okay, baby?” Satoru cups your face, thumb going over the scratch on your cheek. It’s bleeding. Tears are streaming down your face, completely ignoring what Satoru says as you apologize to your best friend.

“I’m sorry, Ali. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” You sob, but she’s not listening to what you have to say.

A couple of people are gathering around. They heard some commotion, and of course, they had to come around to see. All to add to your embarrassment. 

“You stupid bitch!” Ali yells again, trying to reach for you but Satoru doesn’t let her. Someone steps in to hold her back, but that doesn’t stop the barrage of insults that roll off her tongue.

“I’m so sorry.” You continue, trying to pay no mind to the insults that she spews. You’re trying to block them out, but they still hurt like hell.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Satoru tries to get you to look at him, but you keep your focus on Ali. The woman that you’ve betrayed.

Even when she’s taken out of your line of sight, she’s the only thing on your mind. No matter what you do, your friendship will never be the same.

You should’ve known that Ali wouldn’t stop at dragging you by the hair and hitting you. The woman that you’ve lived with for years is vengeful, and she wouldn’t change a thing for you of all people. Though you didn’t do anything to change it because you believed you deserved it.

The very next day, Ali had changed the locks to your shared apartment. When you managed to get inside, you noticed all of your clothes and accessories destroyed all over your room. It was fine. You deserved it. Even though Satoru reassured you that you didn’t, you still believed she was right to do it.

A week later, your car’s tires were slashed, and two of the windows were broken. To top it off, Whore was keyed on it. You called Satoru about it, complaining that you’d get late to work– Something that annoyed Satoru. It was clear who the culprit was, yet you refused to do anything about it because it was Ali. You believed you deserved it even though you didn’t. 

Satoru knows that you can stand up for yourself, he’s seen it before, so why can’t you do it with Ali? He knows that you’ve spent a lifetime together, but that’s not a good reason for you to let her walk all over you.

But no matter what he says, you won’t do anything to stop her. You apologize for what she’s done to you. Ali can ruin as many cars as she’d like, he can easily replace them; however, it pains him to see you suffer because of her. 

Satoru won’t overstep, not until he receives a call a little after five, and you sound completely distressed.

“I– I can’t do this anymore, Satoru.” You sob, and he quickly becomes alert. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Do I need to pick you up?” He asks, quickly searching for car keys to leave and pick you up. Whatever it is, he knows that it’s tied to Ali.

“I’m covered in eggs. Some of her crazy followers know where I work and they–” You sob, and Satoru feels his heart break as you explain the situation. He can only hope that you finally open your eyes and realize the type of person Ali is. “I can’t do this anymore, Satoru. We should end this here.”

“Wait– No. Absolutely not. You’re not letting her win.” Satoru quickly responds as he exits the house. He’s going somewhere– Either to your apartment or your workplace to talk to you. No, he should go to the police station to deal with Ali. She needs to be stopped, and it’s clear that you’re not going to take action.

“I’m not letting her win. I’m tired.” You sound completely defeated. It’s not easy to deal with constant harassment. “I’ve been getting death threats nonstop all week. I’m genuinely scared for my life now.”

“Come live with me.” He offers, but you doubt that it’ll fix anything. “I’ll protect you, but please.”

“It’ll just drag you down with me, Satoru.” You respond, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “I don’t want you to get affected by her craziness.”

“I love you.” He blurts out. Ali made the same attempt with him once upon a time, but he actually means the words that leave his lips. “I don’t mind being affected by her craziness because I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” You’re about to hang up the call before he can change your mind. But he successfully manages to get another word in.

“I promise I will make all of this stop. Just come to me, please.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and that’s the last thing you want. You just want all of this to end, you want your best friend back even if she’s clearly awful, and you want to live in peace. “I will fix it all, even if I have to beg her.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” You end up hanging up the phone, leaving Satoru with a broken heart. But as much as you care for him– You can even say that you love him, but you can’t keep doing this. It hasn’t even been a month, but your life has been a living hell. 

You hear some loud laughter from Ali’s room, and you furrow your brows as you hear it. It’s cackling. It feels as if she knows what happened to you, and it’s causing her joy. 

You know that you should walk to your room, and ignore her. You’re apartment hunting, you know that you can’t live under the same roof for too much longer. Instead of seeing what she’s up to, you should lock yourself in your room and figure out a way of how to get out of here. 

But you can’t help but press your ear against the bedroom door to hear what she’s doing.

“I would’ve killed to see the look on that bitch’s face. Can you send me the video?” You hear, and you don’t have to listen to another word. You know she’s talking about you. “It’s only a matter of time before she breaks up with him.”

And those words send you over the edge. You clench your fists as your blood begins to boil. That’s all she wanted, for you to end things with Satoru, and you’re not going to let her have her way.

You love Satoru, and you’re not going to let her ruin things between the two of you. She might be miserable with her life, but you’re not going to let her drag you down with her.

You grab your phone and don’t hesitate before calling Satoru. You begin walking to your bedroom, getting ready to have a long heart-to-heart conversation with him. 

“Satoru…” You say when he picks up the phone, unsure of how to proceed. An apology is in order but should you tell him that you want to get back together first? Maybe you should ask him to meet up first, having this conversation over a phone call seems improper.

“You’re calling because you regret it.” He says before you can get another word out. He can read your mind so well, it’s ridiculous sometimes. 

“I do.” You can’t help but awkwardly chuckle. “I love you too, Satoru. I’m sorry.”

Ali quickly realizes that she isn’t untouchable when she messes with your car again– Not that you would do anything against her. She might be horrible to you, but you still treat her like the little girl that was once upon your best friend. Her error lies in messing around with a car that’s under Satoru’s name. 

“I can’t believe she did it again.” You comment, still in your pajamas as you look at the damage. You’re staying in Satoru’s apartment for a while, and you would’ve sworn that she wouldn’t do anything while you were staying with him. But now your car is completely destroyed.

“You sound unphased.” Satoru says, taking pictures of the damage. “You shouldn’t be used to this.”

“She’s going to chase me for the rest of my life. I’m convinced.” You answer. “By the way, can you drop me off–”

“I got you.” He cuts you off, and you kiss his cheek. You couldn’t be luckier. Until he opens his mouth to speak again, “But after we talk to the cops.”

“Satoru–”

“They’re already involved. I’ve been working with some people behind the scenes, and we’re building up a harassment case against her.” Satoru interrupts you, and you feel your heart stop. “It’s going to stop whether you like it or not. That woman won’t leave you alone no matter what.”

“Okay…” You sigh, giving him a subtle nod. You can’t stop him. Either way, you know he’s right. She won’t stop unless she faces some serious consequences. “For how long is she–”

“So far three years.” He reads your mind. “If she pulls something else, we can make it four.”

“That’s not too bad.” You answer, though you don’t believe it. You feel guilty for not stopping him, but he’s right. You know he’s right.

Ali has beaten off more than she can chew, and unluckily for her, Satoru won’t let her get away with it.

You couldn’t be happier a year after your friendship with Ali ends. You were so caught up in the past, that you failed to realize that Ali was a negative in your life. Even though you can’t help but miss the bond that you had once upon a time, you’re excelling without her.

Satoru made sure that Ali paid for her behavior. He got law enforcement involved and she was penalized with a year in jail, and with a hefty fine that ensures she stays off your back. When she found out, she begged that you’d help her but you refused. You listened to Satoru for once, and left her to deal with the consequences of her actions. 

Your social life couldn’t be better without her. You’ve gotten close to Shoko, and now consider her as your best friend– And your friendship is so much different than the one you had with Ali. You notice it’s much healthier than whatever you had going on with Ali. Shoko genuinely cares about you, and you feel appreciated by her side. 

Romantically, things couldn’t be better either. Satoru loves you like no other, and he lets it be known. He treats you like his queen, always spoiling you and letting you be right even when you’re so clearly wrong. 

Though there’s something wrong with him lately. He’s been acting odd around you, and you can’t help but feel nervous… As if you’ve done something to upset him. So it comes as a shocker when he invites you on a date out of the blue.

“Where are we going?” You question him as you look out the window. He’s singing along to his favorite song as he drives you to your destination. He completely ignores you, which makes you nervous. “Satoru.”

“I told you, it’s a surprise!” He exclaims, and his tone takes some weight off your shoulders. He sounds playful… So it can’t be too bad, right?

“Can’t you give me a hint?” You question, and Satoru shakes his head. He’s smirking, which annoys you. He has something up his sleeve and it’s written all over his face.

You finally get to your destination, and no matter how much you bug him for an answer, he refuses to give you a response. You furrow your brows when you realize you’re at the beach. It’s a little late for a beach day, so you’re questioning what you’re doing at the place.

“What are we doing here?” You ask him, but he refuses to give you an answer. Instead, he grabs your hand when you exit the car and drags you along. You’re not letting him get away so easily. “You’re so quiet today, what are you up to?”

Your eyes narrow as you see an odd scene at the beach. Are those… Candlelights? Rose petals? Oh, someone is getting proposed to, that’s good for them. It makes you wonder when Satoru will do the same— It’s not like you’re expecting it any time soon but seeing that makes you wonder.

Then it hits you. Satoru makes an abrupt stop and gets on one knee. Yes, someone is getting proposed to but it’s not a random stranger. Satoru is proposing to you. Your jaw drops, quickly followed by a gasp of pure disbelief.

“I love you so much—“ He begins his speech and you’re pinching yourself to check if this is reality. Two years ago you wouldn’t have imagined that Satoru would be proposing to you of all people. He’s in love with you. 

“Yes!” You exclaim, even when he isn’t close to being done to asking his question. “I’d love to marry you!”

Tears of joy well up in his eyes as he slides the very heavy rock on your finger. It fits just perfectly. Satoru stands up from the ground, kissing you ever so lovingly. After all, you are doing him the grand honor of becoming his wife— Allowing him to become your husband. 

He picks you up from the ground, spinning you around as if you were his prized possession. He tells you over and over again, “I love you, dear. So much.”

“Put me down, Satoru!” You chuckle, and he does as you ask of him. But he doesn’t let you go before filling your face with kisses first.

You would’ve never imagined that you’d end up here with him, but you did. And you couldn’t have asked for a better destiny.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,723 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad, from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. You want answers. 

“I want to know why you decided to leave, why you went on that mission and left me when you knew things were not right.” 

John shifts on his feet behind you, the wood floor creaking just slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, so long you almost think he’s walked away. 

“I was too trusting. I got caught up in the mindset of a soldier and chose to trust my superiors when I knew I shouldn’t have. I wanted to send you somewhere else, to stay with Kate, but things didn’t work fast enough to make that possible. I shouldn’t have just left you there, even with Johnny and Simon. It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. At least he knows he made a mistake. At least he thought up other plans, but that doesn’t excuse the fact he did nothing and just left you there so easily. 

Another question burns at the forefront of your mind. You think back to that conversation with Dr. Keller just a few days ago. You want to trust her, you know you can trust her. She’s given you no reason not to. She wouldn’t lie, even if the rest of your pack did. 

“You really didn’t leave me with Graves?” The words slip out before you can stop them, spilling forth from your lips, revealing part of those inner thoughts that have plagued you for the last few hours. 

“I would never have left you with him.” John says, the floorboards creaking as he takes a couple steps forward. “As soon as we found out we turned around and went to Kate’s safehouse. She was already looking for you. We did everything in our power to find you as quickly as we possibly could.” 

The tears start sliding down your cheeks as you sit there, taking in his words. They’re spoken with such conviction and match what Dr. Keller had told you. Some deep, dark part of your brain wants to think it’s all a lie that they’ve conjured to try and make you feel better about everything, to try and jumpstart the healing process. Yet, at the same time you want to believe they are telling the truth. 

Your other option is to trust Phil and what he said to you. For all you know, everything he said was a lie. Some sick justification to torture you as some kind of revenge towards your pack. Maybe it was all about revenge. 

Who can you trust more? Phil, or your alpha. 

Maybe if you had just held on a little bit longer. Maybe if you hadn’t believed Phil’s lie, you could have saved yourself the terror of letting your omega take over. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to take that risk and corrupt yourself with blood-stained hands. From what you can remember and have managed to weasel out of Dr. Keller, they were right behind you. A few more minutes and maybe none of it would have had to happen. 

Maybe you did do the right thing in the end. Phil might have ordered his men to kill you as soon as they arrived. Maybe they would have done it as soon as Simon and Johnny entered the room. Saving yourself might have been your only option. 

Those men would have killed you or worse. You did what you had to do. 

You’re shaking. The tears are cascading down your cheeks, warmed by the heat of the fire. You’re crying, your breaths nearly hyperventilating as you sob quietly. 

“Talk to me.” John says as he kneels down beside you. 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“She scares me, my omega.” Your inhale stutters. “She’s angry. She won’t settle. I’m scared I’m going to lose control and she’ll come out again.” 

“You’re not going to lose control.” John says. Despite the heat of the fire you’re not much warmer, a cold chill shooting through your veins. “If it were to happen, we’re right here. We’ll get you through it.” 

You stare into the flickering flames, your breaths slowly coming back down to normal. John sits there, as still as a tree. You don’t want him so close to you, yet you can’t deny how comforting his presence is. For the first time in a while you don’t feel quite so out of control.

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. 

You don’t remember falling asleep after your little talk last night. You’re not sure how that moment of vulnerability makes you feel either. There was a time when you wouldn’t have thought twice about going to your alpha with such concerns and tumultuous feelings. There was a time when you would have sought him out for the comfort and stability you need right now. 

Things are different, though. Things have changed. 

You run a hand over your face, thinking back to the groggy conversation with Simon this morning. You’re not quite sure it even happened, or if you dreamed it. There’s two blankets on you, however, and you distinctly remember feeling the second one being draped over you. 

It’s a touching gesture from the specter in your life. Once again he’s been reduced to a shadow, a figure lingering only because he has to. The distance that had once been so close to closing has widened into an impossibly wide canyon. You’re not sure it’ll ever fully close again. Too much has transpired in such a short amount of time between the two of you. He’ll never forgive himself, and you’ll never be brave enough to force it again. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face again. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of trauma and their decisions ache in your chest, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You’re half tempted to go back to sleep, but you’re too awake now, and the light streaming in the doorway is making it hard. It was done on purpose, left that way to prevent you from falling asleep again. 

You let out a huff as you maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. You try to blink the drowsiness away, no matter how much your brain is trying to chase the last lingering threads of sleep quickly receding. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers, repeating what he told you in the room. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, the lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for late fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny and Kyle down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

NEXT ->

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[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[darkbluekies]

In the hands of a madman 2024 ver

Doctor!yandere oc x reader

Summary: a doctor is very peculiar about his favorite patient, and senses a threat once they disobey him.

Warnings: yandere, poison, murder, cuff restraints

Word count: 2.4k

You gag.

“Yes, yes, I know”, he coos, grimacing and removes the wooden stick out of your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that thing as far down your throat as humanly possible? You thank heavens that it’s not one of the needles extracting blood from your arm, although you’re sure that’s what’s waiting tomorrow.

“Still nothing?” you ask cautiously. 

He meets your eyes and you know immediately. You sigh heavily. Your heart sinks to your stomach. 

Every three months, he’s doing all sorts of tests to see if you’re getting better — or what’s what he’s saying. Every three months, Dr Kry has to check every vital sign on you to make sure that his sickness isn’t getting out of his control. But you don’t like them. They hurt. Badly.

“Will I ever get to go home? I want to.” 

Dr Kry sighs and sits down on his rolling stool, coming over to your bed.

“I know you do, but you that’s not possible”, he says apologetically. “You know that too.”

“Yeah, because you keep reminding me”, you mutter. 

“That’s better than giving you false hope, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that drive you insane?”

It would, but you don’t say it out loud. Doesn’t need to.

“I want to go home!” you say again, louder this time. 

“Saying it louder won’t make you better or me change my mind”, Dr Kry says. 

You sigh and press your palms to your eyes, trying to press the tears back into your eyes before they escape. You’ve been here for too long by now. You’ve been isolated for so incredibly long. ALl you want is to go home. You know no one, talk to no one beside him. The proper, sophisticated man who’s stiffer than a stick. Dr Kry sighs and moves closer. 

“I know that you’re disappointed”, he says and puts his large hand on your shoulder. “But this is for the best. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

“I hate these fucking tests! They hurt.”

“I know.”

He glances towards the white air purifier on the shelf beside the bed. The poisoned air purifier. He’s always making sure it’s not too much, not too little. Just the exact amount to keep you where he wants you — weak and vulnerable, dependent on him. 

“I know it’s hard”, he says encouragingly. “I know that you’re in pain, but you’re doing so good. You can always call for me if you need me, okay? I’m available all day and night for you.”

You press forward a smile, but can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. Why did this happen to you? Where did you go wrong to end up here? How could a sore throat get you bed bound in a hospital room? If only you knew. 

“Let’s get you tucked in again”, Dr Kry says and helps you lie down in bed. “You shouldn’t be putting to much pressure on your body.”

He pushes up your pillows, having you lie in a 45-degree angle. It helps you breathe at night. He always tucks the blanket close to your body, as if you were a butterfly in a cocoon. He gives you a small smile before standing up. 

“Please don’t go”, you whisper. “I don’t want to be left here.”

The man looks at you, studies you carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He wipes your lonely tear with his finger. He looks at his wet finger, thinking. 

“I feel helpless”, you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever get well again.”

Little do you know that’s exactly what he wants. 

“It’s okay, Y/N”, he says. “I will take care of you. I will stay with you until you’re well again.”

He has to force back a smile. 

“I don’t want to do these anymore”, you say monotonously. 

“I know you don’t, but you have to”, Dr Kry says apologetically and moves closer to the bed on his rolling stool. “They’re important.”

“They hurt …”

“I know, but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a small, painful smile. 

“I’ll sit here until you fall asleep, don’t worry”, he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes slowly. He fades out. 

He takes blood tests the following day. Needles, pain.

“Now, you need to take a nap”, he says and tucks you in. 

The daily afternoon nap. You hate it, but he insists. While you sleep, he’s out taking care of other patients that are not you. He hates it, hates wasting his time and skill on people that aren’t you. Those patients are one time patients that are there for surgeries, consultations or checkups. No long term patients that have to stay in the hospital. Everyone gets to leave after he meets them. Everyone but you. You stay. 

You keep your eyes closed until Dr Kry leaves the room. Quickly, you sit up and get out of bed. After all these fucking tests, you’re deserving of something else than the tasteless cardboard Dr Kry gets you. Just one brownie. Something that has sugar. And maybe some coffee for caffeine too. 

Quietly, you sneak out into the corridor. There’s something about these sterile passageways that makes the hair on your back stand on its end. Is it the dehumanized area or the fact that you’re never allowed here? Is it nerves or excitement? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your steps and hurry towards the elevators before anyone sees you. They’ll tell him. Just as the doors are about to close, someone stops the doors. A boy dressed in a similar hospital gown as yourself forces his way into the elevator. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry”, he says sheepishly. “I am in a hurry.”

“What happened to you?” you ask and smile halfly. 

“I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle. The young man licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Have you met her?” he asks. “The therapist?”

“No”, you say. 

You haven’t met anyone but your stiff and proper doctor. 

“Don’t”, the young man advices you and leans his back against the wall. “She’s mental. I honestly think she should be the one getting interrogated — not me.” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Do you meet others?” you ask. 

“In the lounge. Have you been there?”

You shake your head and lower your eyes. 

“Did you just arrive?” the man asks. 

You shake your head again. 

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

The elevator stops and the doors open at your floor. 

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” the man asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. 

“I’m coming with you. Maybe you can help me blend in.”

“Okay.”

The boy seems frantic, but happy. Running on adrenaline and excitement. Together, you walk through the hospital to the cafeteria and realize that you don’t have any money. Your shoulders fall. Did you come here for nothing? 

“Aren’t you going to order something?” the young man asks. 

“I don’t know”, you reply quietly. 

Before you have the time to come up with a lie why you can’t order anything, you recognise something in the corner of your eye. A blonde man dressed in a white robe. You feel your blood run cold. 

“What do we have here?” Dr Kry asks and you have a hard time reading his tone or facial expressions. “What do you think you are doing out of bed?”

He walks over to you and grabs your shoulder. You flinch. His grip is … tight. Painful. 

“You’re supposed to rest”, Dr Kry says shortly.

He looks at the young man. His eyes seem to go right through him. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asks. 

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry gives him a cold gaze before grabbing your upper arm in a tight grip. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to pull you with him. His steps are quick, steady. Angry. 

“Doctor …”, you try.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry pushes you into the elevator and presses the button. He doesn't let go of your arm.

“Doctor, I’m sorry”, you say. 

He still doesn’t answer. You barely dare to look at him. There’s something about his face that scares you. It's stoic, unreadable. But he oozes anger. Like a dark cloud.

The elevator stops, the doors open. His tight grip remains as he drags you back into your room.

“Lay down”, he instructs shortly.

You do, too scared to disobey. Dr Kry walks past you, to the drawers by your bed. He rips out two leather bands that look like belts for dolls. Before you're aware of what he's doing, he's strapped one of your wrists to the bed railing.

“Wait, doctor-”, you blurt out.

“Be quiet.”

He locks your other wrist to the other railing. You tug at the restraints, and find them secure.

“Are they too tight?” Dr Kry asks, still with that short tone that sends icy needles down your spine.

“Doctor, what are you-?”

“Answer the question. Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He turns to his desk, ignoring you.

“Doctor, I'm sorry”, you say.

“You broke my trust”, he says without giving you any attention. “It's important, for your healing, that you do not deceive me. I need to be able to trust that you do as I say. How many times have you done this?”

“Only this time, I promise.”

He doesn't answer. You feel how your eyes fill with tears. Your body is in such a vulnerable state that your body betrays you. You didn't want to upset him, didn't want to put your own health at risk by doing this. 

“I'm sorry, doctor”, you sniffle. “I didn't mean to break your trust.”

He sighs and turns his head to look at you. His blue eyes soften and he rises from his chair, coming over to your bed. He can't stay mad at you, not when you're clearly dumb. You don't understand, he can't be mad at you for not understanding. He should — and is — mad at himself for not foreseeing these situations and making sure you don't do it.

“You know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?” he asks and wipes your tears with his hand.

“Yes”, you reply.

“In that case, I want you to never repeat this mistake. Mistakes are forgivable, but they should be minimized, do you understand that?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me?”

He has to force back a smile. You're so unbelievably cute.

“Yes, I do forgive you”, he says. 

“Can you take off the restraints?”

“No. I might forgive you, but I need you to know what happens once mistakes occur. This is the consequences that follow. If I can't trust you to be where I want you to be, I need to take precautions to make sure you are.”

You lower your gaze.

“Who was that, by the way?” he asks. “That young … man. Why did you speak to him?”

“I don't know, he took the same elevator as me.”

“I don't want you to speak with him again. If he's the one they're looking for, I don't want you getting influenced by his reckless ideas.”

“I don't get to speak to anyone, anyways.”

“And that's how it should be. We don't know why you're sick, and you shouldn't contaminate someone else.”

“What about you, then? You can get sick too.”

“I'm ready to take that risk.”

He's too nice, you think. All he wants is to take care of you and you put his selfless risks to hell when you decide to disobey him. How horrible of you.

“Now, you need to take that nap for real”, he says. “I will sit by my desk. If you need something you can just let me know.”

He walks back to his desk and sits down, starting to file some paperwork. You tug at the restraints. You're not going anywhere.

When you’ve fallen asleep, Dr Kry makes his way through the hospital. They’ve captured that young man and put him back into his room … and Dr Kry wants a talk with him. He opens the door quietly. The young lays in bed, sleeping. Dr Kry circles around him, taking a good look at him. Did you find him cute? Hot? Did you like talking to him? Did you think that he was better than him? Did you enjoy those ten minutes with him more than these months with Kry? Do you want to meet with him again? He glares at the sleeping man. Dr Kry walks over to the supply closet, an identical to the one in your room, and takes out one of the spare pillows. Silently, he walks over to the bed, lifts the pillow and presses it over the young man’s face. He widen his eyes, pulled out of his slumber. He screams against the pillow, his voice getting muffled in the fabric. 

“Normally, I’d make this easy for you”, Dr Kry grunts as the man starts to fight against him. “Out of pity, but you don’t deserve that mercy.”

He screams in confusion, fear. Dr Kry can make out words. What. No. Help. Stop.

“Just give in and give yourself that mercy”, Dr Kry continues. “If you continue to fight against me, you’ll be in more pain.”

The man cries. Dr Kry breaks out into a smile. 

“You’re going to die either way, you can choose to end it quicker.”

The young man doesn’t seem to get the memo. He continues to fight, cry, plead. He drinks it all in. The horror, the helplessness. The dear in headlight. He has seen the light in people’s eyes disappear multiple times during his job as a doctor. To see the moment someone becomes just a piece of flesh. He has never enjoyed it as much as now. The man stops moving. Dr Kry removes the pillow and takes a step back, looking at the lifeless body. He breathes out. Finally, he can calm down. 

And now, all he needs to do is to make sure he can not be traced back. 

He finds you sleeping soundly as he comes back to your room, wrists still locked to the sides of the bed. You make his heart ache. He sits down beside you, brushing his fingertips over your cheek. 

I control your life, my little one. You’re going to say with me and I’ll take every repercussion to make sure you don’t disappear. 

[starlessnightsblog]

7 minutes in heaven with ...Hyunjin?!

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18+ | smut | wc: 2.7k

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fuck, i shouldn’t of come.

you thought to yourself. you sat on the floor in a dimly lit room in a frat house getting ready to play a game of spin the bottle. your best friend had dragged you out of the dorms, for this? you’d rather be anywhere else right now, especially after making eye contact with him. Hwang Hyunjin.

you two didn’t like each other - that was putting it lightly. He was annoying, arrogant, and everyone worshipped him. you hated that, and he hated you because you didn’t, or at least that’s how it seemed.

after a few spins, the bottle landed on you and …him. your friend laughed, knowing the lore between the two of you, and this round the chosen were to play seven minutes in heaven. was this the demon lord’s doing? someone had to have had it out for you.

you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t wanna cause a scene, you wouldn’t, so you went willingly, Hyunjin leading the way.

after a few minutes, you were already sitting in a cramped closet, very cramped. you were sitting opposite of him, your knees almost touching, though you were trying your best to keep even that from happening. while he looked at you with a cold expression, “well?” he spoke.

you huffed, coming off bored. “i’m not doing anything with you.” disgust laced in your tone, “i’d rather swim with sharks.”

“please,” he scoffed, “it’s not like i want to be here with you either.”

“this is hell.” you sighed.

he smirked, “it’s just 7 minutes.”

“7 minutes too long.”

he leaned over to you, “stop whining. it's gonna pass very quickly.”

you shot him a glare.

“asshole.”

he chuckled at your insult, then proceeded to purposely click his knees to yours.

“calm down. It’s not my fault the bottle fell on you.”

you were clearly not amused with any of this. how he was so calm was beyond your comprehension. you looked up, a warm light hung above, doing little to nothing. he was fidgeting with his rings on his nimble fingers. the shadows casted shaping his perfectly sculpted features whilst loose strands of hair framed his face, his honey skin glistened and lush as ever. it was aggravating how perfect he was.

he must’ve felt you staring because he looked straight up at you. a sly grin appearing on his face.

“are you checking me out, princess?”

fuck. that’s exactly what you were doing.

“no.”

“seemed like it.” he slurred his words, he even sounded hot.

“just because everyone else finds you attractive, doesn’t mean i do.” a lie. “and don’t call me that.”

he tilt his head to the side, brows furrowed and holding his bottom lip between his teeth. he spoke again, his tone deep and low, inching closer on into your side of the closet. your back sank into the wall behind you, you had no where to go. like a mouse caught in the cat’s mouth.

“no need to lie to me. i can see right through you, princess.” he whispered.

your breath caught as he closed the distance between you even more, he was enticing, daunting, was this a test? he rendered you near speechless, your cheeks were burning up, and you hoped he couldn’t tell. you held your ground, wanting to be just as intimidating (failing). though his black eyes were pulling you in further, his expensive cologne clouding your thoughts. you liked all of it, and you couldn’t admit it, or more like, you were choosing not to.

“this is a game for you, im not stupid Hyunjin.” you whispered, your brain felt fuzzy, your eyes hung low, and were draped with lust induced curiosity. your tone not nearly as serious as you words. maybe you even batted your lashes, and stole a glance at his lips, not that.. that meant anything, or whatever.

he smirked once more when you whispered his name. he was enjoying the way you looked at him, your lashes casting shadows that met the blush on your cheeks. he’d gift you the world if you asked him to in this moment, that’s how awestruck he was in your presence. and the way you said his name, he usually only heard insults from you, he knew he was getting somewhere if that wasn’t the case now. he placed his hand on your knee, pushing them down and slowly dragged his hand along your inner thigh, seeing just how far you were gonna let him go.

his eyes were low, focused on his own movements, as you watched, your heart now pounding against your rib cage.

he spoke in a low, calming tone, “im not playing a game. you’re just obvious.”

you scoffed, “and you’re just delusional.”

you attempted to remove his hand with your own, but when your hand met his, something shifted. his hands were much larger than your own, your eyes lingered on them for a moment, they could swallow your own hands whole. you began to wonder how they would feel wrapped around your-

your smile slipped as you came to terms with your situation, locked in a closet with the campus it boy, mr.prince himself. anyone else would kill for this opportunity, not you though, right?

shit.

when he realized you weren’t gonna move his hand, his grip tightened and he edged even closer. he was now sitting between your legs.

he loved the way you couldn’t look away from his eyes now, the way your smile faded. he could see the wheels turning in your head and he held your gaze, but admiring all of you. “if i am, tell me to stop.”

you were able to come up for air for a moment.

“you just want me to fall into your trap.”

and if it was working? then what? but he knew the answer to that, jerk, you thought.

“you’re so use to just getting what you want… i’m not that easy.”

your words were hollow, yet they stung. he held the close proximity anyway, and you didn’t try to change that, rather, your body didn’t, no matter how much your brain fought against it. your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, they looked soft… were they?

he held back a smirk, he noticed your glances, swooned in silence. he knew deep down you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. his hand still rested on your thigh, moving it from time to time to make you feel more and more needy for him. he enjoyed that you weren’t as unaffected as you tried to act. “i know you aren’t. you’re the most difficult person i’ve ever met.”

a truth.

you weren’t begging for his attention like others did, he didn’t want you to. he liked the back and forth, he had to admit. though, he had long coveted for you, you despised him, yet here you two were, and at a mere coincidence. you had him in the palm of your hand and you were all but aware of it. he edged closer, risking it all until his lips were hovering dangerously close to yours.

“Hyunjin….” you whispered, a warning. he was winning, but you were too far gone to do anything about it.

Hyunjin’s breath caught as he heard you say his name in a soft voice. you were driving him insane. he wanted to lean in and kiss you, but he held himself back. he needed to tease you a bit more. “yeah, princess? can’t think of anything to say?” his lips hovered over yours as he spoke.

“you’re the one giving it up so easily.” you gave one last bite with your words, shaking your head while your tone and body gave in.

he could sense it all, how your body and tone completely changed. his body was nearly pressed against yours.

he chuckled against your neck and spoke, “just shut up.” he placed small kisses on your neck and collarbone. His hand went up higher on your thigh until it reached your waist, pulling you into him even more.

you held your breath as his lips hit your skin, your nails found their way into his hair, tugging softly. you whispered his name again, your tone needy and desperate. you mentally scolded yourself, what the fuck was that?

he could hear the desperation in your voice, you needed him and it was clear as a day, his name sounded heavenly out your mouth, he wanted to make you say it over and over again. it made him want to do more, to do so much more. he spoke against your skin in a soft, hungry voice. “princess…”

“kiss me already.” you spoke through gritted teeth.

Hyunjin pulled away from your neck slowly when you spoke out those words. he looked at you for a moment, observing how you looked with your eyes full of lust. he didn’t need to hear you beg twice. he crashed his lips against yours and captured them in a heated, hungry kiss. savoring the feeling, and the taste. you were so delicate and soft. he adored it. his tongue slipped in between your lips as his hands grabbed your waist and pulled you on his lap suddenly, his back hitting the wall.

you let out a soft whine into his mouth as he pulled you on top of him, his strength taking you by surprise.

he smirked at that, melting under your pretty little whimpers. as you straddled him, his hands were firmly on your hips, he began to grind you gently on his, in rhythm with the kiss.

and he held you close, like he would lose you at any second, he couldn’t get enough, both your chests pressed against each other, he could feel how hard it was slowly becoming to breathe.

he wore jeans and you could feel everything, the rough fabric easily getting you off already. this was so fucked, yet you were drowning in all of it. the way he held you, the way his hands were slipping under your shirt to squeeze your skin, how he kissed you like he was starving. you couldn’t help it. your hands cupped his face, deepening the already intense feeling between the two of you. you pressed yourself down against the fabric, growing needy for some type of release.

Hyunjin let out a moan quietly as he broke the kiss. he looked at you, breathing heavily, he spoke in a low, dark voice, “(y/n).” he started to run his hands down your waist and thighs, his touch getting more firm and dominant. his gaze was murderous.

he brought his lips to yours again, meeting for a moment but not connecting. you chased them, meeting his again. he kissed you with, if not more, hunger than the last. this one was more merciful, labored. melting every fiber of your being. neither of you could get enough. he pulled back to breath.

“we should stop…” you breathed.

he chuckled at your comment, he leaned in and placed gentle kisses on your shoulder as he responded. “oh really?” he continued giving you kisses up your neck, till he reached your jawline, he looked up at you and spoke, “still wanna stop?”

he was making this difficult, you couldn’t stay in here. someone was bound to catch you. but you really didn’t want it to end either.

“we’ll get caught pretty boy.” your nails traced up his neck.

he was well aware that someone could catch you, that you shouldn’t be doing this at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. he pulled away from your skin and spoke against your ear, “doors locked, we can be quiet?”

your hands snaked past his neck and down his back, underneath his shirt, he was so warm, you let your nails drag softly on his skin. “are you gonna make sure i stay quiet?” you whispered against his ear, leaving one gentle kiss just below it. you couldn’t believe what you were saying, but it was like word vomit, wether you meant it or not.

a shiver went down his spine as he felt your fingernails on his skin and your lips on his ear. he let out a small “fuck” and closed his eyes. he could feel the fire inside of him igniting more and more as your body was pressed against his, your lips on his skin. he didn’t let you speak once more and instead pushed his lips against yours in a voracious kiss. a moan escaped your lips.

Hyunjin grunted against your lips as you started to grind against him again, his hands that were resting on your hips were now fully grasping your ass, he took control. he was breathing heavily and he broke the kiss for a moment again, he spoke in a hot, low voice, sounding very desperate now, “… you’re driving me insane.”

“oh, so now you wanna stop?” you breathed out, you were almost out of breath from the heated kiss. your hands slid down his chest to his torso, and they landed on his belt. he watched you, studying your every move with an ardent gaze, he bit his lip, he couldn’t believe his eyes, all the times he thought of you, and now here you were sitting on his lap, teasing him. he took a deep breath, wanting this so badly, needing you so badly. he furrowed his brows, he took your hands in his, “are you sure you wanna do this?”

and suddenly, you stopped to think.

all of this was happening so fast, you didn’t even recognize this side of yourself. Hyunjin… the boy who was always such a jerk to you, was gripping your hips and moaning curses in your ear in a tiny closet at some frat house. maybe you shouldn’t do this, what were you thinking? he didn’t actually like you, this was probably another regular friday night for him. he probably wanted this to happen so he could brag about come monday. he’d tell everyone how easy it was, how you were the whore who gave it up to him. but when you looked into his eyes, sincerity was all you could sense. you felt like an idiot, you wouldn’t fall for it, fall for him. none of this was genuine. it’s not like you wanted anything more with him. let alone this.

you were telling yourself anything at this point. but every negative thought seemed like a false one. you were confused.

“i-“ you removed your hands, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. you removed yourself from his lap suddenly and sat back in your original position, missing his warmth already. “i should go-“

you attempted to stand up, and Hyunjin felt his heart sink as you moved away from him, he reached for you, finding your fingers. “hold up-”

you could only look at him, wanting to cry now.

he was quiet for a few moments as his thoughts were entangled together, not knowing what words to use and how to say it without seeming vulnerable. he wasn’t even sure what he was doing himself. he just knew that he wanted you. he looked up at you, his tone soft, “don’t go.”

typical, you thought.

“that’s it?” you scoffed, “i’m not doing this with you. you don’t even like me outside of here… i won’t be made to look like another whore that got added to your roster.”

you yanked your hand from his grasp and stood up, your hand resting on the door handle.

Hyunjin followed suit, towering over you. your words stung, your assumptions weren’t true, and he could say that, but you wouldn’t believe him. he wasn’t gonna defile you in a frat closet anyway, you deserved so much better.

“i don’t wanna do this here either. let me-“

you didn’t let him finish, “i don’t like you.”

your eyes were soft, your tone shattered. nothing he could say would change your mind now. you hated him, you hated him so much, and yet you were getting lost in his eyes again. they were soft, solicit, lust-filled, and crushed. your eyes trailed down to his lips, the ones just glued to yours mere seconds ago. why couldn’t you think straight? you felt pathetic.

Hyunjin inched closer, wanting nothing more than to touch you again, kiss you again. “i don’t want you like this. let’s get out of here.”

you were hesitant, “don’t-“

and then someone started banging on the door, you unlocked it and stormed out. leaving some very confused guys peering in, and Hyunjin behind.

- end: part 1 ????

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[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two | part three

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even prettier with the afternoon sun shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so that you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your…admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own chair. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go…I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like some bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh…sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[tender-rosiey]

Hey you lovely human :) Just dropped in to say I bumped into blog like yesterday and since then I ATE (almost) everything Gojo related (still have a couple left), like I genuinely am in LOVE with everything. If you are ever willing to take upon this idea, I was curious about how you see Gojo meeting his significant other and falling in love ? Would love to see the beginning of their relationship and how they ended up together. Thank you and since is already weekend here for me almost - i hope you have a gorgeous weekend!! ^^

creepy eyes — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: AHHH THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY OMG TYYYYY and i am so sorry that i took so long </3 ANYWAY this is how I imagine gojo first meeting his wife cause i believe that it has to be before gojo closed off and that she became a trusted and close friend of his

it’s just another afternoon at jujutsu high, the sun bathing the grounds in a soft glow, casting long shadows as students hurry from class to class.

you’re deep in thought, focused on training, when you suddenly collide with something solid—or rather, someone.

you stumble back a step, blinking up at the towering figure now standing before you. you glance up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of eyes—bright, intense, and painfully blue.

the boy is about to say something, but you beat him.

“my god, your eyes are creepy,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

there’s a beat of stunned silence.

the giant’s mouth drops open slightly, his eyebrows raise in sheer disbelief as if you’ve just insulted the most precious thing in the world to him.

“my eyes?!” he gasps, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “you think my eyes are creepy?”

you nod, grimacing at the loud sound, “yeah, they're unnerving. kind of like staring into a bottomless pit.”

satoru is scandalized. “my eyes are beautiful!” his voice pitches higher, as if stating a fact that should be universally accepted.

he tilts his head closer to you and taking his glasses off, daring you to look again. “take another look! appreciate them!”

you squint, unimpressed, and simply shrug, brushing past him, “I’ll pass.”

that’s the beginning.

days turn into weeks, and the more you try to forget about that initial encounter, the more satoru won’t let you. every time you cross paths, it’s like he has a personal mission to make you take back that one insult.

whether it’s during training, at lunch, or in the hallway, satoru somehow finds a way to bring it up.

“you still don’t think my eyes are nice?” he asks, exaggeratedly crestfallen, peering at you with that playful gleam.

“yeah, still creepy.”

“but why?” he exclaims, leaning against the doorframe or sitting next to you with a theatrical sigh. “do you not see the sparkle? the beauty? the endless charm?”

it becomes such a regular thing that even suguru can’t help but get involved. he appears at satoru’s side, casually rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics, though a smirk plays on his lips.

“you’re still on about that?” geto quips. “maybe just accept that she has good taste, satoru.”

“oh, shut up, suguru! she’s just blind to my perfection!” satoru retorts, crossing his arms as he watches you chat away with shoko.

and so it goes. satoru’s relentless teasing—half playful, half desperate—starts weaving into the fabric of your days.

every time you think he’ll finally let it go, he’s right there, flashing that expectant grin as if waiting for you to finally give in.

months pass. the seasons start to shift, but satoru's persistence doesn’t.

he keeps bugging you about it—less often than before, but every once in a while, he'll find an opportunity.

whether it's during class or during a mission, he brings it up with that same confident, teasing smile.

it’s a lazy afternoon when it happens.

you’re outside, lounging against a tree in the sun with a book in hand, trying to relax after a mission when satoru flops down beside you, elbow nudging yours.

his sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he grins at you. “still think they’re creepy?”

you don’t even look up from your book. “yup.”

he leans in, resting his chin on his hand, giving you that pout again. “come on, you’re just being mean at this point.”

you stifle a laugh, flipping a page. “am I?”

satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, “you’re impossible, you know that? these eyes are a national treasure.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips this time. it makes satoru blink, clearly caught off guard by the sound.

he tilts his head, eyes narrowing in curiosity as he leans closer to your face. “wait… was that a real laugh? are you finally admitting I’m funny?”

you roll your eyes, looking away from him as you smile. “don’t push your luck.”

he grins widens at the sight of your smile, and he is about to boast of his achievement when you glance at him. with amusement still tugging at your lips, you reach out and push his sunglasses up with a playful tap.

“fine, fine,” you relent, voice teasing as you give him a small grin,“I think your eyes are very pretty.”

for once, satoru’s the one caught off guard.

he blinks rapidly, a flash of surprise flickering across his face as he pulls himself away and tries process your words.

your smile doesn’t falter, but satoru’s eyebrows furrow, before he chirps, standing up, “well—it’s about time you admitted that!”

your eyes widen, as he gets loud and starts ranting about his beauty, “it is only natural that you succumb to my charms! ahaha! my eyes are only one part of it!”

confused but having nothing to say, you lean back against the bark. you don’t mention out loud that his ears are tinted pink, not that satoru would give you the chance to call him out.

but you both know that something has changed.

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