#something about it seemed so off it barely felt like stranger things

[nevernonline]

✧.* secret love story; hjs

synopsis: the city has a way of weaving lives together, even when it feels like it's tearing them apart. joshua, the son of a powerful and conservative politician, and Y/N, a passionate artist pursuing her dream, find their paths entwined in the most unexpected way. despite their connection, their worlds could not be further apart.

paring: joshua x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) , swearing (? lol ), some nsfw stuff but not in grand details.

word count: 17k

content: . non-idol idolings.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The streets were alive that evening, thrumming with energy as crowds poured into the city’s arts district. The gallery’s entrance was understated, almost hidden among a row of boutique stores and cafes. Inside, warm light illuminated canvases that stretched across stark white walls. Each piece was a portal into a world of raw emotion—anger, love, despair, and hope.  

Y/N stood near the back of the room, dressed simply but elegantly in a flowy black dress, her hands clasped nervously. Tonight was important; her first big showcase had attracted more guests than she expected, and among them were critics, buyers, and fellow artists. She felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed.  

Joshua had no intention of being there. He wasn’t the art-gallery type. The night had started with a stiff political dinner where his father delivered a speech on preserving “traditional values.” Desperate for an escape, he wandered the streets until the flicker of light and soft murmur of voices and sounds of champagne bottles opening from the gallery caught his attention.  

The moment Joshua stepped inside, he felt like he had entered a new world. The hum of conversation was softer here, the clinking of glasses muted against the depth of the paintings. One in particular stopped him in his tracks—a portrait of two figures barely touching, their faces turned away from one another, as if trying to reach across an invisible barrier.  

“That one’s called Longing,” came a voice behind him.  

Joshua turned to see Y/N standing there, a faint smile on her face. He noticed the paint smudges on her fingers before he registered her striking presence.  

“It’s sort of haunting,” he said, almost in a whisper, his eyes returning to the painting. “There’s so much emotion in it. Like they want something they can’t have.”  

Y/N studied him for a moment, intrigued. Most visitors offered polite compliments, but this stranger seemed to feel the weight of her work.  

“That’s exactly it,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about the space between people. How it can feel like a canyon, even when you’re standing right next to someone.”  

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the gallery seemed to fade.  

“Did you paint this?” Joshua asked.  

Y/N nodded. “I did.”  

“You’ve captured something… I didn’t think anyone else understood.” His voice was laced with an honesty that caught her off guard.  

As Y/N and Joshua wandered deeper into the gallery, their steps fell into an unspoken rhythm. The crowd ebbed and flowed around them, but it was as if they existed in their own pocket of space, where time slowed and words felt heavier.  

They stopped in front of a painting that was dominated by shades of crimson and deep blues, abstract brushstrokes that swirled and collided. The image was chaotic, almost violent, but there was a strange harmony in the madness.  

“This one’s intense,” Joshua murmured, tilting his head as he tried to decipher the emotions bleeding through the canvas.  

“Yeah. It’s called Collision,” Y/N said, folding her arms loosely. “It’s about how love and destruction can feel like the same thing sometimes.”  

Joshua’s eyes flicked to hers. “That’s a lot to admit.”  

Y/N shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Art is honesty, right? Even when it hurts.”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should have. “And did it hurt when you painted it?”  

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. It wasn’t a question most people would ask. She saw something in Joshua’s expression—a quiet understanding, as if he wasn’t just asking about the painting but about her.  

“It did,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “But sometimes you have to let life hurt. Otherwise, you never move past it.”  

Joshua opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. Instead, he turned back to the painting, his hands sliding into his pockets.  

“I get that,” he said after a moment. “I think most people spend their lives trying to avoid feeling too much. But you seem to embrace it.”  

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. There was something disarming about the way he saw her, like he wasn’t just a passerby admiring her art but someone who wanted to understand the soul behind it.  

They moved to the next piece, a softer, more intimate painting of two hands reaching for each other across a sea of golden light.  

“This one’s different,” Joshua said, stepping closer. “It feels hopeful.”  

Y/N smiled. “You’re good at this.”  

“At what?”  

“Seeing things that other people miss.”  

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m just looking for things I need to see.”  

They lingered in front of the painting, their shoulders almost brushing. The conversation shifted, becoming lighter as they talked about their favorite colors, the books they loved, and the places they dreamed of visiting. Y/N told him about the inspiration behind her pieces—how they were often born from fleeting moments of emotion or memories she couldn’t shake. Joshua, in turn, shared small glimpses of his life, though he carefully avoided details that would reveal who he really was.  

At one point, they reached a painting that was tucked into a quieter corner of the gallery. It was smaller than the others, almost an afterthought, but it drew Joshua’s attention immediately. The image was of a single, delicate flower growing through a crack in a concrete sidewalk.  

“This one’s yours too?” he asked, leaning in to study the fine details.  

Y/N nodded. “Resilience.”  

Joshua smiled faintly. “I like it. There’s something defiant about it. Like it refuses to let the world crush it.”  

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his observation. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”  

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery melted away. The connection between them was palpable, a quiet understanding that neither of them could explain.  

“You’ve got a gift,” Joshua said, his voice low.  

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, but she quickly deflected, unsure how to handle the intensity of his gaze. “Well, if this whole politics thing doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a future as an art critic.”  

Joshua laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”  

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, but Joshua stayed by her side, moving from one painting to the next. Y/N found herself laughing more easily than she had in weeks, her initial nerves replaced by a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected.  

By the time they reached the last piece, a large abstract mural filled with vibrant yellows and oranges, Y/N realized she didn’t want the night to end. But as she turned to Joshua, she noticed the way his smile faltered, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.  

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.  

Joshua nodded, but his eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes you meet someone, and it feels like everything makes sense for a little while.”  

Y/N’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing, letting the moment stretch between them.  

When they finally returned to the front of the gallery, Joshua paused at the door.  

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his expression earnest. “Your work is incredible. And so are you.”  

That night, as Y/N cleaned up the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just begun—something both exhilarating and dangerous. Meanwhile, Joshua walked aimlessly through the city streets, replaying their conversation in his mind, already yearning for the next time he might see her.  

The days that followed their first meeting felt like a blur to Y/N. Her days were filled with painting, organizing new art shows, and dealing with the steady flow of clients who wanted to buy her work. But at night, when the city quieted and she was alone with her thoughts, all she could think about was her encounter with Joshua.  

It wasn’t just his compliments or the way he seemed to understand her art so deeply. It was the unspoken connection between them—the way their conversations flowed, how easy it was to talk to him, even when they barely knew each other. She found herself replaying their last conversation in her head, especially the way he’d spoken about “making sense” in the brief moments they shared.  

On the third evening after their gallery encounter, Y/N found herself standing in front of the window of her studio, staring out at the glittering skyline. It was late, past midnight, and the city hummed softly beneath the pale moonlight. She had just finished a new piece, but her mind kept returning to that last look Joshua had given her—the subtle sadness in his eyes, as if he had more to say but couldn’t.  

Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed.  

It was a message from an unknown number.  

“I can’t stop thinking about your work. About you. Would you like to meet again? I know a quiet spot where we can talk more.” 

It took Y/N a moment to process it. The message was simple but deliberate. She didn’t even have to check the number; she already knew who it was. Joshua.  

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly typed a response:  

“I’d like that. But how’d you get my number”  

Just as quickly as she could put her phone down two quick messages pinged back. 

“I have my ways. Haha.” 

“Just kidding, I took one of your business cards.” 

Later that night, Y/N made her way through the city streets, the cool air brushing against her skin. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but something about the idea of seeing him again felt right. It was like they were both caught in the same pull, a magnetic force neither could fully resist.  

The place Joshua had mentioned was a small, dimly lit café tucked away on a side street—a hidden gem most people passed by without noticing. The sign outside read La Lune, a name that seemed to shimmer against the dark backdrop of the city.  

When Y/N stepped inside, the soft scent of freshly brewed coffee, homemade spirits and pastries enveloped her. The café had a cozy, intimate feel, with small round tables lit by flickering candles. There was only one other couple in the corner, deep in conversation, leaving the rest of the space open and quiet.  

Joshua was sitting near the window, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him—more relaxed, his usual guarded expression replaced by something warmer, more open. He looked up when she entered, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.  

“Hi,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.  

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, but she returned his smile, walking over to join him. “Hi,” she said, sitting down.  

“You look different tonight,” he commented, his gaze flickering over her. There was something in his eyes that made her feel like he was seeing not just her face but the person she was, the one she usually kept hidden behind layers of quiet confidence and artistic passion.  

“I could say the same about you,” Y/N replied, her voice low, almost shy. “There’s a kind of peace about you. Like you’re finally able to breathe. Maybe it’s also the jeans and the hoodie, a bit of both.”  

Joshua chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “Maybe I am.” He paused, looking down at his coffee, as if unsure of how to continue. “Y/n..”  

She looked at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice catching a little. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his nerves. This wasn’t easy, not by any means. “I don’t want to hide from you. I don’t want you to feel like this is just some secret thing.”

She tilted her head, her gaze curious but understanding. “Joshua, you’re not making sense.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. He took a deep breath. “It’s just, the thing is, my family, my life—everything is so controlled, so planned. It’s like I’m not even my own person sometimes.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes softening. She knew that feeling all too well, the sense of being trapped by expectations.

Joshua’s hand clenched into a fist before he let it go, trying to calm himself. “My father. He’s a politician. A big one. He’s running for a major office, and everything about my life is about appearances. About what fits the image he wants to project. The last thing he would ever approve of is… well, us.” He paused, unsure how to say it without it sounding like an excuse. “My father’s life is a brand. And I’m just a part of that brand.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she listened. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he wrestled with the burden of his family’s expectations. It was as though every word he said about his father was another weight on his shoulders.

“But you’re not your father,” Y/N said softly, almost to herself. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “You’re your own person, Joshua.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I know. But it’s hard to escape that. My dad… he doesn’t just want me to follow his path. He needs me to. Everything I do is calculated. Every relationship, every choice, every word. He has plans for me, for what he wants me to be.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice quieter now. “And that includes who I’m with.”

Y/N felt the depth of his confession like a weight on her own chest. She understood better now why he had been so reserved, why there had been that flicker of hesitation in his eyes when they first met. He wasn’t just trying to keep a secret about himself; he was trying to protect them both from a world that would never let them just be.

Joshua swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto hers. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m playing some kind of game with you. That this… what we have…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s complicated. But I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Y/N, for the first time since their first meeting, saw Joshua for who he truly was—someone who was desperately trying to hold on to a sliver of freedom in a world that demanded conformity. And yet, despite all of that, he had chosen to be with her.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not asking you to choose, Joshua. I’m not asking you to tear apart your life or go against your father. But I want to know the truth. If this is something we’re going to do, then I want us to be honest. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Joshua’s breath caught in his throat. He had never imagined someone could understand him like this—someone who saw the conflict within him and didn’t push him away.

“I want that too,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I just don’t know what it’ll mean for us. What it’ll cost.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, meeting his gaze. “But, what happens if we’re caught? What happens if the world finds out about us?”  

Joshua’s eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he answered. “I don’t know. But I do know that right now, at this moment, none of that matters. We’re here. Together.”  

And in that moment, as their gazes locked, the world outside seemed to fall away. The noise of the city, the looming pressures of their separate lives, all disappeared. There was only the soft light of the café, the shared silence between them, and the undeniable pull of something that was just beginning to blossom.  

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Let’s see where this goes.”  

Joshua’s smile was the answer, and in that smile, she saw the promise of something neither of them could yet fully comprehend—but something they both wanted to explore.  

They spent hours there, talking about everything and nothing. It wasn’t just the art anymore; it was their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. They didn’t have all the answers, but they were learning to trust each other, bit by bit.  

And when the café began to empty, they stood together, reluctantly, as if the moment would stretch on forever.   

As they parted outside the café, the night air was cool, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, a promise of what might come. Before parting Joshua bent down kissing her softly on her cheek before escaping around the corner to meet his driver leaving her again in silence. Bud somewhere deep inside, they both knew they had crossed an invisible line. There was no going back now.

Their third encounter wasn’t planned at all. It was late, nearing midnight, when Y/N was walking down the familiar streets near her studio. Her thoughts were still clouded with the conversation they'd shared, her heart torn between the feelings she was developing for Joshua and the practical realities of their situation. How much longer could they keep pretending that the world around them wasn’t watching?

As she passed by the park, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The message was from an unknown number again.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about our last conversation. Can we meet tonight? I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you. Just for a while.”

It was Joshua, and though the request was simple, there was an urgency to his words that tugged at her heart.

Without a second thought, she typed back: “I’m on my way. Where should I meet you?”

A moment later, he replied: “The rooftop of the building on 7th and Broadway. I’ll be waiting.”

Y/N arrived at the address in less than ten minutes. She took the elevator to the top floor, stepping out into the cool, crisp night air. The building was tall, overlooking the city skyline with the faint hum of traffic far below. Joshua was standing near the edge, his silhouette outlined by the lights of the city, but his focus was on the stars above.

"Joshua?" she called out softly.

He turned, his face lighting up as he saw her approach. He looked different tonight—more vulnerable, his eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been awake for hours, lost in thought.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming." He stepped aside, allowing her to join him by the ledge. The cool breeze tousled his hair as he looked out over the city, his jaw tight.

Y/N could sense something was weighing heavily on him. "What’s going on, Josh?" Her voice was calm, but her heart beat a little faster, sensing the tension in the air.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I’m complicating things more than they need to be, but I can’t keep pretending. I’ve spent my entire life following orders, fitting into a role that was decided for me before I could even understand what it meant to be free. And all of that changed when I met you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to face her. "I didn’t expect to care this much. I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me."

Y/N’s heart twisted as she listened to him, her chest aching with the weight of his words.

"Joshua," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I told you yesterday, I’m not asking you to choose between me and your family. I know it’s complicated. But I need you to be honest with me. Completely honest." She took a small step toward him, closing the distance. "What’s really going on?"

He looked at her, eyes searching hers for a moment, before his gaze fell. "My father… he’s pushing me to follow in his footsteps. To run for office. To become what he always wanted me to be—a political heir, someone who will represent his legacy. I’ve done everything for him, for years, without questioning it." He ran a shaky hand through his hair again, his frustration palpable. "And now that I’ve met you I can’t keep lying to myself. I don’t know how to balance the two, Y/N. My father’s expectations and what I feel when I’m with you. The life he’s created for me, and the life I want to build for myself."

Y/N felt the weight of his words, understanding the gravity of the decision that was looming over him. "So what does that mean for us?" Her voice cracked ever so slightly. She hated that question, but she had to ask it—because if this was something real, they couldn’t just ignore the obstacles.

Joshua looked at her, his expression one of both sorrow and determination. "It means that I’m torn, Y/N. It means that I can’t walk away from my family, no matter how much I want to. But it also means that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you."

For a long moment, the world felt like it stood still. The city lights shimmered below them, but the weight of their conversation filled the air between them. Y/N didn’t know what to say at first. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, but she didn’t know if it would be.

"You don’t have to choose right now," Y/N said finally, her voice steady but tender. "I won’t push you. But I need to know if you’re going to let me in. If you’re going to let this go somewhere."

Joshua reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. "I am. I want to. But I’m scared. If I choose this, I could lose everything. And I’m not sure I’m ready to lose it all."

Y/N squeezed his hand in return, looking up at the stars. "Then we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out. But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets."

Joshua’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and apprehension in them. "I promise. No more secrets."

The night on the rooftop was heavy with unspoken emotions. The city beneath them seemed to hold its breath, the lights from the streets below flickering like distant stars. Y/N and Joshua sat closely together, wrapped in the shared weight of their conversation. The air between them was thick, but despite the tension, there was an undeniable connection—something that was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

Joshua’s hand remained in hers, a silent gesture of reassurance. He had opened up about the impossible choice between his father’s expectations and what he wanted for himself. But as they sat there, surrounded by the vastness of the night sky, he could feel the pull of both worlds, tugging at him in different directions.

Y/N, sensing the internal battle raging within him, looked at him with a soft, steady gaze. Her heart ached for him, but she knew this wasn’t just about her and him—it was about the life he had been forced to live for so long, the cage built by his family’s demands. It was a cage she couldn’t just break down for him. He had to find his way out.

"Josh," she began, her voice quiet but unwavering, "I don’t expect everything to be easy. I know there are things in your life you’re still figuring out. And I won’t pretend that it’s not complicated. But…" She paused, squeezing his hand gently, "I’m okay with us being a secret for now. I’m okay with whatever pace you need to go at."

He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "Y/N, you don’t—"

"No," she interrupted softly, her voice firm but kind. "I know you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for me to be a part of all this crazy ass mess." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "But I’m okay with it. I understand the pressure you’re under, the weight of your family and everything they expect from you. I know you can’t just throw all of that away, not yet. And if that means we need to keep this between us, just for a while, I’m okay with that."

Joshua stood there, struck by the calmness in her voice. The way she spoke, with such grace and understanding, made him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. He had been so focused on what he might lose that he hadn’t considered what he could still gain. Y/N wasn’t pushing him. She wasn’t demanding him to choose between her and his family. She was simply giving him space to figure it out.

“I don’t want to drag you into something messy,” he said, his voice low. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who can be fully present with you. Not someone who has to hide, who can’t give you all of them.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes meeting him with such sincerity that it took his breath away. “I’m not asking for all of you right now. I’m asking for what you can give. And if that means a little distance, a little secrecy, I can handle that. I don’t need you to be perfect.. I just need you to be real. That’s all I want. And if it’s just us for now, at this moment, I’m okay with that.”

Her words were like a balm to his restless soul, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at him since they’d met. The weight of his father’s expectations, the pressure of his family’s desires, it had all been consuming. But here, with Y/N—this unexpected, complex, beautiful woman—he felt the possibility of something different. Something real.

Joshua’s throat tightened as he fought back the overwhelming rush of emotion. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N replied, her voice gentle yet firm. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve someone or something, Joshua. We all have our struggles, our burdens. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the good things that come into our lives. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect us to keep being honest with each other.”

The simplicity of her words struck him deep in his chest. He had been so afraid of losing everything—his family, his reputation, his future—that he hadn’t realized what was in front of him: someone who cared for him enough to give him time. Someone who wasn’t trying to force him into a corner but was willing to walk beside him, patiently, as he navigated the mess of his own life.

"You're willing to wait?" Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. But only if you’re being true to yourself. If you’re honest with me, with us. That’s the only condition. I can’t be a part of something where there’s no truth.”

Joshua took a deep breath, finally feeling the relief of not carrying this weight alone. He had spent so long living in the shadow of his family’s expectations, not daring to reach for anything of his own. But with Y/N, he could feel the space to breathe. To be himself. Even if it had to be in secret for now.

"Then I promise you, no more secrets," he said, his voice steady and determined. "I can’t promise when or how, but I’ll figure this out. I’ll do it for me… and for you."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “That’s all I need from you. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together.”

For the first time since they had met, Joshua felt a spark of hope in his chest. The future was uncertain, yes, but with Y/N beside him—even if only in the quiet moments they shared in secret—he felt like he could face whatever came next.

The night stretched on, the soft wind blowing through their hair as they stood side by side on the rooftop, their hearts racing in tandem with the unspoken bond they were forming. There was no easy answer, no perfect solution to their complicated lives, but in that moment, under the stars, they both knew they were no longer alone.

The days following their rooftop conversation were a mixture of clarity and confusion. Joshua had promised to be true to himself and to her, and Y/N had given him the space to navigate his complicated life. The truth of their situation was clear—there were forces at play beyond their control, pulling them in different directions. But their bond was undeniable.

The world around them continued to churn, but in the small moments they shared, they found a sanctuary from the noise. Every secret phone call and text, every late night conversation, every touch held more meaning than any overt declaration. But as the days passed, Y/N began to feel the weight of their secret growing heavier, even if she hadn’t voiced it to him.

It was a Tuesday evening when Joshua reached out again. He hadn’t been as present the past few days, consumed by meetings with his father and the increasing pressure from his family. Y/N knew better than to demand answers right away. She had learned to let him come to her in his own time. But tonight, she felt a familiar pull—an invitation to meet, one that didn’t need to be spoken.

They agreed to meet at a quiet spot on the edge of town. The kind of place where no one would recognize them, and for a few stolen hours, they could pretend like the world wasn’t watching.

When Y/N walked in, she spotted him immediately. He was sitting at the back, his posture tense as usual, though his gaze softened when he saw her approach. As she slid into the seat opposite him, he reached out and took her hand, placing a kiss on her palm, his touch warm but reluctant, he feared she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m glad you came,” Joshua said quietly, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I needed to see you. Badly"

Y/N smiled back, though there was something in her chest that felt tight. "Of course. How’s everything going with your father?" she asked, trying to gauge where he was emotionally, where they stood.

Joshua’s smile faltered, and for the first time in days, he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “It's really not great. The pressure’s getting worse. He’s set his sights on me running for office next year. I can't escape it, Y/N. Every conversation, every meeting, it all comes back to what he fucking wants for me, not what I want for myself."

Y/N’s heart sank. She knew how much he wanted to carve out his own path, to escape the shadow of his family’s empire. She had heard the desperation in his voice on the rooftop—he was battling not just his father’s expectations, but his own sense of who he was and what he was becoming.

"I can’t make that decision for you," she said, her voice steady. "But I do know this—you don’t have to figure it all out alone. I’m here, Joshua. I told you before that  want you to be honest with me, but I also want to help you, however I can."

Joshua squeezed her hand, his eyes holding hers with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know what you see in me, Y/N," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. You deserve someone who’s free to give you everything. But I can’t walk away from you. I can’t let you go."

The raw honesty in his words made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had never expected an easy journey, not with the weight of his world pressing on them both, but hearing his confession—his fears, his doubts—made her feel both helpless and resolved. She was willing to wait, to let him find his way, but it was hard, harder than she had anticipated. She wanted him to choose her, but she knew it wasn’t that simple.

"I’m not asking for all of you right now," she said softly. "I can handle that. But I can’t be invisible forever, Joshua. I need to know that when this all comes to a head, you’re choosing us."

Joshua’s eyes darkened as he heard the unspoken fear in her voice. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I feel like I’m suffocating in this life, in this expectation. And every time I try to make a choice for myself, for us, it feels like there’s something I’ll lose.” His hand, still holding hers, trembled slightly.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm. "I don’t expect you to give up everything. But I need to know that you’re willing to take the risk, Joshua. That when the time comes, you won’t let fear hold you back from what could be right in front of you."

He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, before he spoke again, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please people, trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. But when I’m with you, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone I could be proud of. But then reality hits, and I realize how impossible it all seems."

Y/N’s heart ached. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the pull between his desire for freedom and the loyalty to a life that had been carved out for him long before he even understood the weight of it.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Joshua,” she said gently.

Joshua’s eyes searched hers, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. "Are you sure you can handle this? I’m not asking you to wait forever. I’m just asking for time."

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing over his hand, the small, tender gesture a stark contrast to the heaviness of the conversation. She could feel his fingers trembling, the silent weight of his uncertainty pressing down on them both. It was one of those moments where words felt both inadequate and necessary, where honesty, however painful, was the only thing that could bridge the distance between them.

"I’m not asking for forever, either," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze with an openness that seemed to both reassure and break her at the same time. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions right now. All I want is for you to be true to yourself. And when the time comes—when you figure out what you really want—I’ll be ready for whatever decision you make. I just need you to be honest with me.” 

Joshua’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words settling into his chest. He wanted to speak, to reassure her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but she pressed on, her tone still gentle, but her words cutting through the air with an edge of pain he hadn’t expected.

“But if it’s not me, let me down gently.” She paused, her lips pressing together as if the thought itself hurt too much to fully voice. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued, her hand still held tightly in his. “I don’t want any drama. I don’t want to fight or beg. Avoid me, ignore me, don’t contact me. Cut it off—no words needed. I can handle the silence. I just need to know that when you’re ready, when you’ve made up your mind, that you’ll walk away without dragging it out. No false hope. No lingering, no ‘maybe. Just... a clean break.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, the enormity of what she was saying sinking in. She wasn’t asking for him to promise her forever—just honesty. And in that moment, she realized how much she had come to depend on him, how much she had opened her heart to him, even if he hadn’t yet decided what to do with it. 

Joshua felt his chest tighten as he listened, his heart twisting painfully. He had never heard her speak like this before—not with so much quiet strength, but also so much vulnerability. Her willingness to step back, to give him the space he needed to make his choices, was both a gift and a heart-wrenching challenge. She was preparing herself for the worst—*just in case*—and it cut him deeper than he expected. She wasn’t demanding anything of him. She wasn’t forcing him into a decision. She was just asking for his truth. And even though it broke her, she was willing to accept the reality of it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” Joshua finally said, his voice cracking with the weight of the promise he wasn’t sure he could make. “I’ve never wanted to be the kind of man who causes pain especially after how my father treated me, but I don’t know how to give you the certainty you’re asking for. Not yet. Not until I’ve figured out what this all means.”

She squeezed his hand, a soft, understanding smile playing at her lips, though her heart ached at the uncertainty in his voice. “I know that. I know you're not trying to hurt me. And I’m not asking you to make it easy. I’m asking you to be honest. When you know, when you’re sure, I just need you to do it with respect, Joshua. To respect me enough to not leave me wondering, to not drag things out for both of us. That’s all I ask.”

There was a long pause, a silence that was heavy with the weight of their unspoken emotions. Joshua could feel the sincerity of her words, the depth of her understanding, but it only added to the guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t made his decision yet—he wasn’t ready to. And the thought of cutting her out of his life, of hurting her, was something he couldn’t bear to think about.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing you. But I’m also scared that if I take this too fast, I’ll hurt you in a way I can’t undo. I don’t know what’s right, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s smile softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored his. She understood the weight of his fear—the fear of making the wrong choice, the fear of hurting her. But she also knew that sometimes, not making a choice was the worst thing of all. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “But you need to know that whatever decision you make, I’ll be okay. It will hurt, but I’ll be okay. And I’ll respect whatever choice you make. The way you make your decision, what I just said, let me down easy. That’s all I need from you.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt like an unspoken agreement. Y/N had laid her heart on the line—no strings attached, no demands beyond honesty. And Joshua, despite his own fear, felt a deep sense of gratitude for the space she was giving him, for the patience, even when it hurt.

As they sat there, their hands still entwined on the table between them, there was no grand declaration. There were no promises. But there was understanding. 

Y/N was giving him the time he needed, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to stay in the dark forever. She had been clear: when the time came, she would let go. And as painful as it was, Joshua knew that she deserved that honesty. 

“I won’t drag it out,” Joshua said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. “I promise. When I know, I’ll tell you. You deserve nothing less.”

Y/N nodded, her heart both lightened and heavy at once. “That’s all I can ask for.”

Joshua smiled, not wanting their secret rendezvous to end, “Can we go somewhere private? Just us tonight? No more parents and stress?” 

Y/N’s smile deepened at the thought of giving them both an escape, a place to simply be. As much as they both craved answers, tonight wasn’t about decisions or heavy conversations—it was about being in the moment. Her heart ached for Joshua, for the burden he carried, but she also knew that moments like this—moments where they could simply exist together without outside pressures—were rare. She wasn’t sure how much longer they would have before life caught up to them again. But tonight, they were going to make it count.

“I have just the place,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet certain, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. 

Joshua’s heart lifted at her words. The thought of being with her, completely alone, away from the prying eyes and expectations, filled him with relief. 

Y/N stood up, reaching for her coat, the motion almost fluid. "It’s a little out of the way, but that’s the point," she explained, a teasing glint in her voice. "No distractions. Just us."

As they walked toward her car, the city seemed quieter than usual. The night was crisp, but there was an undeniable warmth in the way they moved together, side by side, as if the world beyond them could wait for just a few hours.

Joshua was still processing her words from earlier. The way she had calmly laid out her heart, vulnerable yet resolute, asking for nothing but honesty. He couldn’t help but admire her strength and grace, and yet it made him ache with the knowledge that, despite everything, he was still caught between two worlds.

But for tonight, that didn’t matter. Tonight was about creating a moment that was theirs, free from the weight of it all.

The drive took them through winding roads, the city’s lights fading as they ventured further out. Y/N didn’t say much along the way—she didn’t need to. She could tell Joshua was deep in thought his hand rested on her thigh as she pressed the gas pedal, and she was content to let him reflect. 

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded cottage nestled at the edge of a wooded area. The house was small, but cozy, a soft glow spilling from the windows, suggesting warmth inside. The scent of wood and fresh air greeted them as Y/N led him to the door, pulling out a key from her pocket.

Joshua looked around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The cottage stood alone in the middle of a forested area, the trees surrounding them like old, protective sentinels. It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

“Is this your place?” Joshua asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity. 

Y/N nodded, opening the door. "It’s my little sanctuary. I come here to clear my head, to escape when things get too overwhelming. Get inspired, all the good shit.  I thought it might be nice for us to have somewhere to just be. No judgment."

As they stepped inside, the warmth wrapped around them. There was something calming about the space—dim lighting, a fire crackling softly in the hearth, and simple, comfortable furniture. The living room smelled of lavender and wood smoke, the air clean and fresh. A large window in the corner framed a peaceful view of the forest, its dark trees swaying gently in the breeze. 

Y/N made her way to the kitchen area and quickly began preparing a small spread—cheese, crackers, some fruit, and a bottle of wine she’d bought earlier. “I thought we could just relax. Have something to eat, talk if we feel like it, or not. No pressure.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gesture. There was something about the simplicity of the moment—no fancy dinner or grand gestures—just the two of them, in this quiet, serene space. He felt his shoulders relax for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He moved to her side as she set the table, gently brushing her hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate. "This is perfect, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for this."

She smiled at him, her eyes meeting him with a look of understanding and tenderness. "Anything for you. I also have some pajamas and extra stuff just in case, you know, you want to stay.”

As they settled into the small, cozy space with their food and drink, they spoke less, letting the comfort of being together speak for itself. The fire crackled in the background, and the only sounds were the occasional clink of a wine glass or the rustling of leaves outside. It was a soft kind of peace—a feeling neither of them had realized they were missing so deeply.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the couch by the fire. Y/N leaned her head against Joshua’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body beside hers, another opened bottle of wine resting on the coffee table. She could feel the tension slowly leave him, the constant hum of responsibility fading into the background. 

Joshua draped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his voice low as he spoke. "You know, for a moment, I almost feel like everything’s going to be okay."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’m not sure where all of this is heading, but I don’t feel as lost as I did before. Being here with you in this house which by the way I cannot believe you were holding out on me. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Her heart swelled, knowing how much those words meant to him. "You deserve to breathe, Josh. To find your way.. For tonight, for this moment, I’m happy just being here. Find some sanctuary in my sanctuary you know. The reason I didn’t show you yet is just because I wasn’t sure you’d want to come. I don’t know."

Joshua looked down at her, his eyes soft and full of unspoken gratitude. "Of course I’d want to come, I love being in nature, I don’t get much of it anymore. I don’t know how to thank you for this. For everything."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. You’re here, with me. That’s more than enough."

And in that simple, perfect moment, they found something that transcended all the confusion, all the questions that loomed over them. It wasn’t answers they needed tonight—it was each other. They didn’t need to speak about the future or dwell on what came next. Tonight, there was just them—existing, breathing, and finding comfort in the shared silence.

The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the fire crackled quietly in the corner. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, but inside the cottage, it felt like time had slowed. Y/N and Joshua sat on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no rush, no need to speak. The mere presence of each other felt like enough. 

Y/N’s breath evened out as she relaxed further into his side, her fingers absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. The simplicity of the moment, their quiet togetherness, felt like a reprieve from the complexities of their lives. She was learning the art of just being with him—no expectations, no demands. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and warm, and it calmed her in a way nothing else could.

Joshua, for his part, had his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as he allowed the quiet to fill the spaces where his mind had been racing just hours before. There was something about the softness of Y/N’s presence, the fact that she didn’t need anything from him but his company, that allowed him to drop the walls he often kept up. Her proximity, her stillness beside him, felt like an anchor—a place where he could feel like his old self. And for once, he didn’t feel the constant weight of his obligations pulling him in a thousand directions.

The firelight flickered across the room, casting shadows that danced on the walls, and there was an undeniable chemistry between them—a quiet, simmering tension that had been building ever since their first meeting. It wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, like the slow, inevitable pull of gravity. Neither of them spoke about it, but it was there, in the way their hands brushed together, in the way their breath seemed to sync as they sat together, their bodies unconsciously leaning closer, drawn by an invisible thread.

Joshua shifted slightly, turning his head to glance at her. His lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes were darker than usual, full of something unspoken—something that pulsed between them like a quiet storm. Y/N caught his gaze, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear. 

Her fingers, still resting on his chest, curled into his shirt, her touch light but deliberate. She could feel the subtle tension in him, the way his breath caught slightly when her hand brushed over the soft skin at his collarbone. There was a pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, but neither of them wanted to rush it. The silence between them grew thicker, more intimate, but it was safe.

Y/N felt the heat rising between them, but she stayed where she was, her head nestled against him, eyes closed, letting the moment stretch out. She didn’t want to overthink it. This wasn’t about the perfect timing or making a move—it was just about being in the moment with him, together, without needing anything else. 

But then, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, Joshua’s hand moved, just a subtle shift, and before Y/N could even register it fully, his fingers gently brushed against her jaw, coaxing her to look up at him. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through her, and she lifted her eyes to meet him, finding the depth of something she hadn’t quite understood before—something that both scared and comforted her all at once.

His thumb lightly traced the line of her lower lip, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth, as though he was trying to read her, trying to gauge whether the moment was right. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. There was no question now—they had crossed some unspoken boundary. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a heartbeat, the world outside was irrelevant. It was just the two of them, here, in this space.

“Y/N,” he murmured her name like a prayer, his voice low and raspy, filled with a need that neither of them could deny. The sound of her name on his lips felt like a promise, but it also held the weight of everything unspoken between them.

She lifted her hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. Her gaze softened as she studied his face, seeing the conflict there, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own. ‘Is this what we want?’ The question hung in the air, but neither of them dared to voice it. Instead, Y/N leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space between them, her breath mingling with his. 

Joshua’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he felt the shift between them, the pull that neither of them could ignore. He exhaled slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, he found Y/N’s lips inches from his. 

At that moment, everything else seemed to blur. There was no more thinking, no more hesitation. It wasn’t about the future, or the decisions they hadn’t yet made—it was about now. It was about feeling this connection, this undeniable chemistry, this quiet, intimate understanding between them.

He closed the distance between them then, his lips meeting hers in a soft, slow kiss—one that spoke of everything they hadn’t said, all the emotions they had buried deep inside. It was a kiss that was both tender and intense, full of quiet longing and unspoken promises. It was a kiss that asked for nothing more than the moment, the comfort, the closeness of shared space.

Y/N’s hand slid up to his neck, pulling him in closer, her body instinctively leaning into his as the kiss deepened. The heat between them grew, but it was still gentle—unhurried. It was a kiss that let them feel each other, without rushing toward anything. At that moment, they didn’t need words. They didn’t need answers.

Joshua’s hand slid from her face to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck. Y/N responded in kind, her body now in his lap, hand resting against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Yet, there was still a softness to it, a care, a respect for the vulnerability they were both sharing.

As they finally pulled away, breathless, their foreheads touched lightly, their breaths coming in soft gasps. The silence between them was no longer empty—it was full, rich with connection, understanding, and something deeper that neither of them had been ready to name.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, his voice low, his forehead still resting against hers. His hands rested gently on her waist, as if waiting for her to pull away or to say something that would break the tension.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered. 

Joshua’s chest tightened at her words, the weight of the unspoken between them finally easing. They didn’t need to know what came next. They didn’t need to define it. All that mattered was that, in this quiet moment, they had found something real—something beautiful and fragile, but something worth holding on to, even if only for tonight.

“I don’t want to rush it,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something tender. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “But I’m not going to lie, I don’t have enough strength right now to pull away from you.”

His words, so simple yet heavy with meaning, made her heart flutter. She nodded slowly, her fingers moving to trace the line of his jaw, her touch delicate, as if he were something fragile she didn’t want to break. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. 

The unspoken invitation hung in the air between them, thick with anticipation. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just looked at each other, as if silently questioning whether this moment was real, whether they could allow themselves to embrace it fully.

Joshua closed the distance between them then, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency, more purpose. The kiss was different now—not just tender, but hungry, as though the silence between them had been filled with all the words neither of them had said. There was an ache in it, a quiet, aching need to be closer, to erase the distance that had existed between them for far too long.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the kiss deepened. She responded with equal intensity, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, now slid to her back, pulling her even closer. The space between them evaporated as he cradled her against him, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both intimate and comforting.

Her pulse quickened as she felt the weight of him against her, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. The kiss grew more frantic, both of them caught in the whirlwind of emotions they had carefully held at bay. There were no more words, just the sensation of their lips moving together, the heat building between them.

Joshua’s hand slid down to her waist, then to the small of her back, gently urging her closer as he deepened the kiss even further. He could feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way her body seemed to melt against his. Every inch of him wanted to be closer, to lose himself in the feeling of her. And yet, there was a part of him still holding back, still unsure, still afraid of what would happen once this moment ended.

But at that moment, Y/N seemed to read his hesitation. She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Her gaze was steady, but there was a question in her eyes—a silent invitation to continue, to let go of the fears they both carried.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice breathless but sure. “You don’t have to hold back. Not tonight.”

Joshua’s breath caught at her words, the weight of them sinking in. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes—the trust she was offering him, the understanding that whatever came next, they would navigate it together. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just the two of them, finding comfort in each other.

With a quiet exhale, Joshua nodded, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he leaned in once more, this time more slowly, more deliberately. He kissed her with a gentleness that was new, but that spoke volumes. He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was simply present, lost in the moment, in her.

Her hands slid to the collar of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as she tugged it from where it had come untucked, urging him to shed the layers between them. Joshua let her, his own hands moving to gently lift her shirt just enough to feel the soft curve of her back, the warmth of her skin. Neither of them said anything as the kiss broke, but their eyes met again—soft, full of desire, yet still respectful, still understanding.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly helped her out of her shirt, his hands moving with deliberate care, making sure every move was in sync with hers. Next unclasping the simple black bra she had placed under. They both needed this—needed to shed the layers that had kept them apart, to let their vulnerability, their need for one another, unfold in the safety of the quiet room.

Joshua pulled her closer again, feeling her body against his. There was no rush now, no need for words. The room was filled only with the sound of their breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in time with one another.

As their lips met once more, this time, it wasn’t just the heat of the kiss, the desire that had built between them—it was the deep, unspoken understanding that whatever came next, they were in it together. No barriers. No secrets.

Just the two of them, finally letting go. 

The following morning, Y/N woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she just lay there, her eyes tracing the outline of Joshua’s figure beside her, the rise and fall of his chest a calming rhythm. She could feel his warmth, his steady presence beside her, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself forget about everything that still hung between them—his family, his obligations, the secret they both kept.

But it was all still there, quietly waiting in the shadows. Closer than either one of them knew.

Joshua stirred beside her, his hand instinctively reaching out to pull her closer, his fingers grazing over the curve of her back. He didn’t speak at first, just letting the warmth of the moment settle between them. 

Joshua’s phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sudden interruption of their calm was a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy they had just shared. He reached for the phone, not thinking much of it at first, just expecting a message from his family or a reminder of the day’s busy schedule. But as he unlocked the screen, his heart dropped.

An email notification blinked up at him from his inbox, the sender name familiar—yet completely unexpected.

Subject: Exclusive: The Life of Joshua Hong and his Secret Love (The Untold Story)From: journalist@cityscenenews.com

The words caught him off guard. His pulse quickened as he clicked open the email, fear prickling along his spine. The article was already live, complete with images—images that left no room for doubt. It was a professional expose, a journalist’s careful investigation into his hidden relationship with Y/N, revealing everything from the quiet, secret dates to the intimate moments they had shared in public spaces.

The headline alone felt like a betrayal, and the further he read, the worse it got. The article wasn’t just a casual mention. It was a detailed account of their time together, with quotes from “anonymous sources” and observations from people who had seen them around town, careful not to reveal their identities but piecing together a narrative that felt all too real.

Excerpt from the article:

"Joshua Hong, heir to Benet Enterprises, has been quietly involved with an undisclosed woman for several months now. Sources close to the couple say that their relationship has been marked by secrecy, with the couple often seen slipping in and out of exclusive venues. While the relationship appears to be purely romantic, the question remains: Will Hong continue to keep his personal life hidden, or is this the beginning of a much larger scandal?"

The article went on to speculate about the hidden layers of his family life, the pressure from his father to conform to a certain image, and the ramifications this secret relationship could have on both their futures.

Joshua froze, his mind reeling as his eyes flickered over the content. The carefully guarded life he had worked so hard to protect now felt like it was slipping through his fingers, exposed for the world to see. And worst of all, Y/N was wrapped up in this too, her privacy shattered by the sharp edge of a journalist’s pen.

He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, fading back into sleep beside him, unaware of what was unfolding. She looked so peaceful, her hair splayed out across his chest, her face soft and free of worry.

But that peace was short-lived.

Joshua’s phone buzzed again, this time a call coming in. He saw the name on the screen and felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Dad.

He inhaled sharply, still holding the phone, trying to steady his nerves. He didn’t want to wake Y/N—not like this. But he knew that the reality of their situation couldn’t stay hidden for long. His father had no doubt already read the article. The pressure of his family’s expectations would come crashing down soon enough.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently nudging her awake. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still groggy from sleep, but when she saw his expression, the concern in his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice soft but alert, her hand reaching for him as she sat up.

He handed her the phone without a word, watching as her expression changed from confusion to shock as she read the headline.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. The silence stretched between them for a moment, both of them absorbing the weight of what had just been thrust into their lives.

“I.. What the fuck?” Y/N said, her voice quiet, filled with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. She shook her head, still processing what was unfolding. “How did this happen? We were so careful…”

Joshua didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how the journalist had pieced it all together—maybe someone had seen them together in the park or overheard a conversation at the gallery. Or perhaps someone closer to his world had leaked the information, knowing that the his family was a story worth telling.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua said, his voice tight with frustration. “I never wanted you to be dragged into this. I thought we could keep it private, at least for a little while longer.”

Y/N’s hand found his again, gripping it with quiet strength. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s just... This is bigger than we thought.”

Joshua sighed heavily, looking down at the article again, but this time he saw it from a different angle. They could try to fight it, deny it, but the story was already out there. The public would talk, his father would demand answers, and the world would judge. There was no turning back.

“I need to talk to my dad,” he said quietly, standing up from the bed, his thoughts racing.

Y/N watched him with concern, but she didn’t try to stop him. She knew this was something he had to face. But she also knew that whatever happened next, things between them would never be the same. They had been living in a fragile world, hiding behind walls of secrecy. Now those walls were crumbling, and there was no escaping the fallout.

“I’ll be here,” Y/N said softly, watching him leave the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The air was thick with tension as Joshua stood at the front of his father’s study, staring out the large window at the sprawling estate below. He had been here countless times before, but today it felt different—his father’s looming presence, the weight of his legacy hanging in the air, and the article still echoing in his mind.

The door opened behind him, and his father entered, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Well, it looks like you fucked up, Joshua. It was only a matter of time, really, I knew I couldn’t keep you away from disobeying me for long,” his father said, his tone devoid of surprise. “I didn’t expect it to come this way, but I suppose it was inevitable.”

Joshua turned slowly, meeting his father’s gaze. “I didn’t want it to come out like this. You know how important it is to me that our family stays out of the spotlight.”

His father raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. “The world doesn’t care what you want, Joshua. They care about my name. You can’t play both sides of this game. You have to choose.”

Joshua’s stomach tightened. “I’m not asking for your approval. I’m not asking for anything. This is about me—and I’m not letting anyone control that anymore. Not even you.”

His father’s expression hardened. “You don’t understand the consequences of your actions. You think you can fucking have it all—a private life and the family business—but the truth is, Joshua, you can’t.”

Joshua stood tall, meeting his father’s gaze with the kind of determination he had never shown before. “I’m done living in your shadow. I’m done being what you want me to be.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of Joshua’s words hanging in the air.

Then his father spoke, his voice softer but still laced with authority. “You’ll learn soon enough, son. Life isn’t as simple as you think it is.”

Joshua stood face to face with his father, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room felt colder than usual, the vast space echoing with silence and the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.Joshua could sense the storm brewing, and it was a storm that had been building for years, slowly but surely.

The article was just the catalyst. This moment was inevitable.

“You’ve made a  big fucking fool of yourself,” His dad’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. “The entire world now knows about your indiscretions. About the basic woman you’ve been hiding.” He emphasized the word woman, as though it was a crime just to care about someone outside of the image he had meticulously crafted for his son. “Do you think this is acceptable, Joshua? To air our family’s dirty laundry for the world to see?”

Joshua didn’t flinch. He’d expected his father’s anger. It was the only thing his father ever seemed capable of. Still, something within him hardened. This wasn’t the first time his father had made him feel small, but it would be the last.

“I never asked for any of this, Dad,” Joshua finally said, his voice firm but measured. There was no more backing down. “I never wanted this kind of life. You never gave me a choice. You’ve made it clear that the only thing that matters is your reputation, not my happiness.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room thickened. “You think you have the luxury to choose what makes you happy? You’re the heir to my entire fortune, Joshua. This family, this company—this political legacy—is bigger than you or any of your personal whims. I’ve spent my entire life building this empire. And you—” Arthur’s voice grew venomous, “you’re jeopardizing it for a fleeting romance with someone who doesn’t give a damn about the cost of this life.”

Joshua felt the anger rising in him, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. He took a deep breath, but there was no holding back anymore.

“No. I’m not jeopardizing anything. You are,” he shot back, his voice rising now. “You’ve spent my fucking whole life telling me that the only thing that matters is business—status, money, power. And for what? So I can live a life that’s not even mine? So I can wake up every morning, knowing that I’m not allowed to make a choice for myself?” His voice cracked, frustration and emotion seeping through. “I’ve had enough.”

The elder of the two took a step toward him, his expression hardening into a mask of fury. “You think you can choose happiness over responsibility? You think you can turn your back on everything I’ve built, just for some bitch? You will regret this, Joshua. You can’t just walk away from this life. The consequences of your actions will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

Joshua took a step forward to meet him, his chest tight with the weight of his words, but his eyes clear with resolve. “Bitch? Very mature. No, Dad. What will destroy everything is continuing down this path where nothing matters except power and control. I’ve tried to live up to your expectations, but all I’ve done is lose myself. And now I’m losing her too.”

Joshua’s dad’s eyes flickered with a flash of something—maybe disbelief, or perhaps a moment of realization. “You don’t understand. The world doesn’t give you the option to choose. People will use her to get to you. You think she’s different, but they’ll tear her apart, Joshua. She’s not the kind of woman you bring into our world.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, and the weight of his father’s words hit harder than expected. He knew his father wasn’t wrong in some ways—the world they lived in was brutal. But what he hadn’t realized until now was just how suffocating it all was. His father was trying to control him, trying to dictate not just his career, but his personal life as well.

“Maybe she isn’t the problem, Dad. Maybe it’s this life, maybe it’s you,” Joshua snapped, voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re so busy telling me how to live, telling me what’s best for me, but you’ve never once stopped to ask me what I want. I want something real, something that isn’t dictated by your empire. I want a future where I make the decisions for myself—where I’m not just living in your shadow, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Arthur’s face turned pale, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “You’re a fool, Joshua,” he spat, the words coming out like venom. “You’ll ruin everything. You’ll be fucking nothing without this family. Without me.”

Joshua could feel the weight of his father's words, but they no longer carried the same power they once did. He wasn’t the boy who had to apologize for his every move anymore. He wasn’t the man who had to silence his own desires for the sake of someone else’s expectations. Not anymore.

“No, sir,” Joshua’s voice was steady now, stronger than it had ever been. “I’m already something, with or without you. And I’m done letting you define who that is.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the air thick with the tension of a battle that had been simmering for years. Joshua felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man who had been his father. He’d spent so long trying to please him, trying to be the son he thought he was supposed to be, but now it was clear: he couldn’t do it anymore.

He wasn’t going to let his father’s grip on his life define him any longer.

Turning on his heel, Joshua made his way to the door. He had made his choice. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was the only way forward. He stopped just before the door, his hand on the knob.

“I’m done living for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m in love with her so either you’ll have to accept that or stop fucking inserting yourself in my life.”

Without another word, he opened the door and left, not looking back.

Joshua’s heart raced as he slammed the door behind him, leaving his father’s cold, seething gaze in the past. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now. His mind was a blur of anger, confusion, and relief, but through it all, one thought kept him moving forward.

Y/N.

He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped out of that house, but it felt like the first breath of fresh air he’d had in years. The weight of his father's influence was something Joshua had carried for far too long, and now, for the first time in his life, he could breathe without that looming pressure suffocating him.

He made his way to his car, his steps quick but purposeful. With the engine running he sent her a text asking her where she was and just to let her know he’s on his way back to her, the place he belongs. She didn’t say much back, just sending a pin to her location. 

The drive to Y/N’s apartment felt like the longest of his life, the distance between them physically small but emotionally vast. With each turn of the wheels, each block closer, his pulse quickened, his thoughts consumed by her. He needed to tell her everything—the truth, his choice, what had just happened. There were no more secrets to keep.

As he parked in front of her building, the air outside felt charged with tension. He stepped out of the car, his hands shaking, but there was no turning back now. He couldn't run anymore. He’d faced his father, now it was time to face her.

He pressed the buzzer at the gate and waited for the familiar sound of her voice to come through the intercom.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft, raspy, as if she had been crying and it took everything in him not to break at the sound of it. She had no idea what had just transpired, no idea of the storm brewing inside him. But he knew this was where he needed to be.

“It’s me, Joshua,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The gate buzzed open, and he made his way up to her apartment. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his resolve grew with every inch closer he got. As he reached her door, his hand hovered over the knob for a moment before he knocked softly.

The door opened to reveal Y/N standing there, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the night before, her eyes soft with concern slightly red from her tears, as she took in his disheveled appearance. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his hands, noticing the way he gripped the doorframe, like he needed something solid to keep him from falling apart.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle yet knowing. She could see something was off, something had changed. And she didn’t need him to explain it yet. She just stepped aside, allowing him entry without pressing for more.

Joshua stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his mind still racing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak immediately. The words were lodged in his throat, heavy and sharp, but there was no turning back. He had to tell her.

“I went to see him,” Joshua finally said, his voice a little unsteady. “My father.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern, her fingers reaching out to gently touch his arm. She didn’t need to ask what had happened—she already knew it couldn’t have gone well. But she didn’t rush him; she simply waited, giving him the space to find the words.

“I stood up to him,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in my fucking life, I stood up to him. I told him that I was done—done trying to be the son he wanted me to be. Done living under his control.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. She could see the weight of his words, feel the depth of the struggle he’d been carrying inside him for so long. She wanted to say something, to comfort him, but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was this vulnerable.

“I told him that I was in love with you,” Joshua continued, his eyes finding hers, his expression raw and open. “I told him that if he couldn’t accept that, then he needed to stay out of my life. I’m not living for him anymore. I’m living for me—and for us.”

The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, her breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. She had expected the conversation to go in a hundred different directions, but never this one. She had no idea what to say, how to respond to the sheer intensity of what he was telling her.

Joshua stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face, as if reassuring himself that she was real. “I want you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little strained. “I want this—us—no matter the cost. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not anymore. I’m not going to let anything stand in the way of what we have.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. The emotion that had built up between them, the weight of their shared secrets, the tension of waiting for something to finally give—it all came crashing down in that instant. She leaned into his touch, her hand reaching up to rest over his, holding him close.

“Joshua…” She couldn’t say anything else at first, too overwhelmed by everything he had just revealed. But then, the words came. “I’m so proud of you. This takes more strength than anything I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” Her voice was thick with emotion, trembling with the weight of her feelings.

Joshua’s eyes softened as he wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I was so afraid of losing everything that I kept hiding. I didn’t know how to be honest, even with myself.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love. “But now… I can’t keep pretending that this—we—don’t matter. You matter, Y/N. And I’m ready to face whatever comes next, with you by my side.”

Y/N stepped back for a moment, looking up at him with a soft smile. “So what happens now?”

Joshua took a deep breath, his chest still tight with the remnants of the confrontation he had left behind, but something inside him felt lighter. “Now, we take this one day at a time. We live the life we want, not the one anyone else expects us to live. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us. We can go on trips, go bowling, good restaurants, all of it.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unspoken hope, and nodded. “Finally.”

And in that moment, everything felt like it was falling into place—like they were finally, truly, on the same side. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be challenges, both personal and external, but together, they were ready to face them. Together, they could finally have the life they’d always wanted, the life they deserved.

A few weeks had passed since that night—since Joshua had stood up to his father, told him the truth, and chosen Y/N. Their relationship, once clouded by secrecy and the weight of Joshua’s family legacy, had blossomed into something more genuine. They were finally able to breathe without the constant fear of being caught, of their love being hidden away. Joshua’s decision had been made, and for the first time, he felt free.

He had stayed away from his father, giving them both time to cool down, to let the emotions settle. Joshua had no illusions that his father would easily accept the change. Still, he couldn’t ignore the small part of him that held hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would come around.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the knock came at the door. Y/N had just finished a late lunch, reading a book on the couch when she heard it. It was a knock that didn’t sound like any of their usual visitors—sharp, deliberate, as though someone had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t expecting to see him.

Mr. Hong stood in the doorway, his posture stiff, his face as impassive as it always was. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding even in this simple setting. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She had only ever heard about him—his control over Joshua, his icy demeanor, his relentless pursuit of perfection. And here he was, standing in her doorway as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

She hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice steady but cautious. “Mr. Hong.”

The man looked down at her, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “May I come in?” he asked, his tone far more measured than she had expected.

Y/N stood aside, unsure of how to react but not wanting to be rude. “Of course.”

She led him into the living room, where they both took seats on opposite ends of the space. The air was thick with the weight of his presence. Y/N felt uneasy, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that burned inside her. What could he possibly want? Why was he here, after everything that had happened?

His father cleared his throat before speaking, his voice softer than she had anticipated. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, unsure whether she had heard him right. “Apologize?” she echoed.

“Yes,” Mr. Hong said, his gaze unwavering as he looked her in the eyes. “For everything I put Joshua through. For all the years of pressure and the things I said that drove him away.”

She frowned, unsure how to process his words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He looked down for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts, before meeting her eyes again. “I thought I was doing what was best for him, for the family. I was wrong. I tried to control everything, everyone, and in the end, I nearly lost my son.” He paused, as though trying to comprehend the depth of what he was admitting. “When he left, when he told me he was choosing you over me… I realized something.” 

Y/N said nothing, allowing him the space to speak.

He exhaled slowly. “I realized that I had been the one keeping him in the dark. I’d been so focused on legacy, on appearances, on control, that I didn’t see what I was doing to him. He was never happy. Not truly happy. And that’s on me.” His voice broke slightly, a crack in the carefully constructed armor that had defined him for so long. “I’m… I’m sorry for that. For everything.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She had never imagined a moment like this. She had heard about the man who had shaped Joshua’s life, the man who had made him feel small, inadequate, and forever beneath the weight of expectations. And now, here he was, apologizing—not just for his actions toward her, but for how he had hurt Joshua.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft, careful. “But you should really talk to him about all of this. He’s the one you hurt most.”

His father nodded, his eyes momentarily distant. “I know. I will. I need to.” He looked back at her, his expression more vulnerable than she had ever expected to see. “But I wanted to start with you. You’ve been the one to make him see that there’s more to life than what I’ve shown him. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but I can see that you’ve given him something I never could: the courage to be himself.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the rawness of his words. She had no doubt that Joshua’s father was trying—genuinely trying. But the scars of his actions weren’t easily erased. Still, she could see the man in front of her wasn’t just the villain in Joshua’s story anymore. He was someone who had been lost too, someone who was now confronting the reality of his mistakes.

“I don’t know what Joshua will say when he hears this,” she said, her voice tentative. “But I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that you understand.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in their interaction, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I hope so.”

Later that evening, after Mr. Hong had left, Y/N sat quietly, waiting for Joshua. She hadn’t told him about the visit yet, unsure of how he would react. Part of her knew that the conversation with his father—though a long time coming—might be more complicated than they both realized. 

When Joshua finally arrived, looking tired but determined, Y/N didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him as soon as he stepped through the door, needing the comfort of his presence. 

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling back to look up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, his expression wary, but he didn’t say anything as she guided him to the couch. 

“Your dad came by today,” she said, watching his reaction closely. 

Joshua froze, his face hardening. “What did he want?”

“He came to apologize,” Y/N said carefully, gauging his reaction. 

Joshua’s face was a mixture of disbelief and something else—reluctance, maybe? It was clear that he hadn’t expected this.

“Are you serious?” His voice was low, the emotion in it impossible to miss. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

Y/N nodded. “I understand. But I think you should hear him out. He seemed genuine.”

Joshua leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts clearly conflicted. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. After everything he put me through…”

“I know,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “But you’re not the same person you were before. You don’t have to accept anything right away, but maybe... just maybe, you can give him a chance to make things right.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, his eyes staring into the distance as he processed everything. Finally, he turned back to her, his gaze softer. “Maybe.”

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “When you're ready. And I’ll be here.”

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you. For everything.”

And in that moment, even with the uncertainty hanging in the air, he knew he wasn’t facing it alone. Whatever came next, he and Y/N would figure it out—together.

A few weeks had passed since His fathers unexpected visit to Y/N’s apartment. Joshua had spent that time in quiet contemplation, torn between the man his father had forced him to be and the man he was trying to become. The choice was clear now. He was ready to face his father, not as the son who had been molded by expectations, but as the man he had become—someone who had chosen his own path, his own love, and his own life.

He had talked it through with Y/N, who had been nothing but supportive, patient, and understanding. She knew the road to reconciliation with his father wouldn’t be easy. She had seen the scars of his childhood, the way his father’s love had always felt conditional, based on his achievements and his conformity to a perfect image. But she also knew Joshua needed to do this for himself, not for his father, and not for anyone else. 

And so, the day came when Joshua, heart pounding in his chest, decided it was time. 

Joshua stood in front of Y/N’s apartment, his knuckles lightly tapping the door before he opened it. She was sitting on the couch, the familiar soft light of the afternoon streaming through the windows. He could see the faint worry in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“I think it’s time,” he said simply, his voice steady but with an underlying current of nerves.

Y/N smiled, standing up and walking toward him. She could see it in his eyes, the determination but also the vulnerability. She nodded, her heart swelling with pride. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. “But if you are, I’ll be right there with you.”

Joshua took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready. I need to do this. Not just for me, but for us.”

The drive to the Hong estate felt longer than it should have, each mile adding to Joshua’s uncertainty. Y/N sat next to him, her presence grounding him. Every now and then, she would reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding him that this wasn’t something he had to face alone.

When they finally pulled up to the grand gates of the home, Joshua felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. He had never been this nervous in his life—not even on the first date with Y/N. But this wasn’t just about meeting someone new; this was about stepping into a world that had always made him feel small, inadequate, like he could never measure up.

Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, and she didn’t say anything, just held his hand tighter as they made their way up the driveway. They both knew this wasn’t just a visit; it was a defining moment. The confrontation with his father had to happen, but this moment, right now, was the one that would decide if things could truly change between them.

They walked through the front door of the house, which felt strangely empty despite the grandness of the foyer. Everything in this house was cold, too pristine, too perfectly arranged. It was a place where emotions had always been kept at a distance, and Joshua had spent years trying to meet his father’s impossible standards.

Joshua’s father was sitting in the living room, an armchair that he always seemed to claim as his own. His expression was unreadable as he stood to greet them, but there was a visible tension in his posture. This wasn’t just the son he had known; this was a different Joshua—the Joshua who had learned to stand up for himself, the Joshua who had chosen a different life. 

Y/N stood by Joshua’s side, her presence a quiet strength, something that made the room feel a little less suffocating.

“Joshua,” he said, his voice tight but respectful. “You’ve come.”

Joshua nodded, his heart racing. “Yes. I came to talk.”

His eyes flickered to Y/N before returning to his son. “Hello, y/n.” His voice was even, but there was an unfamiliar softness to it. “I didn’t expect her to want to join us.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression calm but firm. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she could sense that this moment was as much about her as it was about Joshua. She understood that this was the first step toward something real—for them, as a family.

Joshua cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I wanted to be clear with you, Father. I’m not the person you always wanted me to be. I’ve tried, but I’ve realized I can’t be that person anymore. I’m in love with Y/N, and she’s part of my life now. I need you to understand that.”

The elders jaw tightened at the mention of Y/N’s name, but he said nothing for a long moment. His gaze softened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Joshua. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I wanted you to have the life I never had, the life I thought you deserved. But I can see now that I’ve been blind.”

Joshua felt a flicker of something—a small spark of hope, perhaps. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself. His father’s apology wasn’t going to fix everything in one moment.

His father took a step closer, his eyes searching Joshua’s. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried to control you, to force you into something that wasn’t you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/N watched the exchange carefully, her hand still firmly in Joshua’s. She knew this was a big step for him, and it wasn’t about forgiving or forgetting. It was about opening the door to something new, to a different kind of relationship with his father, one built on respect instead of fear.

“Thank you,” Joshua said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

There was a long pause before his dad spoke again. “I don’t expect things to change overnight. But I want to try, Joshua. I want to try to understand who you are now. Who you’ve become. And if you want her in your life, if she’s a part of your future, then… I’ll try to accept that too.”

Joshua didn’t know if his father’s words were enough to undo the years of strain between them, but they were a start. A step toward healing.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her presence a constant reassurance. “Thank you,” she said softly, offering a warm, genuine smile. 

There was a long silence as the three of them stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in. It wasn’t perfect. There were still so many things unsaid, so much to be worked through. But for the first time in his life, Joshua felt a flicker of something he hadn’t thought was possible—hope. Maybe things between him and his father could be different, maybe they could find a way forward. 

As they left the Hong estate later that evening, hand in hand, Joshua took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“I didn’t expect him to say that,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of disbelief and cautious optimism. 

Y/N smiled softly, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I don’t think he expected it either. But it’s a start.”

Joshua looked down at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thank you for coming with me. For everything.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Always, babe. I’m right here, no matter what.”

The weeks that followed the meeting with his father were filled with uncertainty, but also a quiet sense of relief. Joshua and Y/N had continued to grow closer, their bond stronger than ever. There were still conversations to be had, still moments of tension between him and his father, but Joshua could finally breathe, unburdened by the weight of his past.

His dad had made an effort—slowly, carefully—to rebuild his relationship with Joshua. They started talking more, and although their relationship wasn’t perfect, it was real. Joshua had learned that it wasn’t about erasing the past, but about creating a new path forward—one where he could be true to himself, without needing to seek approval from the person who had once held all the power over him.

One Saturday evening, just shy of a few months after that pivotal day, Joshua and Y/N found themselves in a small, cozy spot by the river. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues over the water as they sat in a quiet corner, far from the noise of the world.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Joshua said, his voice light with amusement. He had a warm smile on his face, one that was genuine, carefree—the smile of a man who had finally found his place.

Y/N laughed softly, taking a sip of her tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... just us. No hiding. No pretending. It feels... good.”

She smiled, the warmth in her chest matching the feeling in her heart. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They had spent so much time in secret—dodging his family’s scrutiny, keeping their love hidden from the world—but now, things were different. They didn’t have to sneak around. They could hold hands in public, share quiet moments, and talk openly about their future. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was theirs.

Joshua reached across the table, his hand finding hers. He looked at her, his gaze soft and full of affection. “You’ve made me believe in more than just surviving, Y/N. I thought for so long that I had to play by someone else’s rules... that I had to prove something to my father, to everyone. But with you, I’ve learned that I can just be. And that’s enough.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with love. “I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, Joshua. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me.”

Joshua’s eyes shone with emotion, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself fully embrace the love they had—love that wasn’t about expectations or conditions, but about simply being there for one another. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For never giving up on me. For standing by me when I wasn’t sure who I was.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened, and she shook her head. “I didn’t give up on you. I believed in you, Shua. Always.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the café surrounding them. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. The world felt like it was slowing down, just for them.

Suddenly, Joshua pulled something from his pocket—something small, wrapped carefully in velvet. Y/N looked at him, curious, as he slid it across the table toward her.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.

Joshua smiled softly, the same warmth in his eyes that she had come to love. “Just a little something for you.”

She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate diamond engagement ring. The center stone sparkled brightly, a soft halo surrounding it, elegant and timeless—a reflection of everything they had been through, and everything they would face together in the future.

“What the.. Is this?” She said, her voice soft, filled with awe.

“I thought it was time,” Joshua said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not asking you to wait forever anymore, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—no more hiding, no more uncertainty. I want you by my side, always.”

Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her chest, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the ring. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady but full of love. “You’ve been my strength, my guide, my heart. I want this. I want you.”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joshua gently took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. He looked at her with such intensity, his eyes soft with love and promise. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever known how to say.”

She smiled through the tears, her heart overflowing. “I love you too. I always have.”

And with that, they sat in the warmth of each other’s company, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together—unapologetically, without fear, and with hearts that had finally found their home in each other.

Months later, the Hong estate had changed. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but there was progress. Joshua had finally learned how to set boundaries with his father, and though there were still disagreements, there was a newfound respect between them. Joshua had come to terms with the fact that his father’s approval would never be unconditional, but he had also come to understand that he didn’t need it to be happy.

He was no longer defined by his father’s expectations or by the pressure of a legacy he had never chosen. He was his own man, with his own dreams—and he had Y/N by his side. They were no longer a secret. They were a couple, standing proudly in the light of the life they had chosen for themselves.

And when the time came for their wedding day, the simple, intimate ceremony was filled with love—not just from the two of them, but from their families and friends who had supported them along the way. It wasn’t about grand gestures or the approval of others; it was about their love, which had been forged in secret but had blossomed into something pure and real.

As they stood together at the altar, Joshua holding her hand, Y/N smiled up at him, knowing that this was only the beginning of their life together.

They had faced the darkness. They had fought for each other. And now, they were stepping into a future full of love, trust, and hope.

[roigami]

(Really rushed y’all… really rushed) The first time you saw Satoru, it hit you like a wave. You couldn’t quite put it into words at the time, but there was something about him that made your heart skip a beat. He was stunning in a way you hadn’t expected—like a burst of sunlight breaking through a clouded sky. His hair was messy, fluffed up in that effortless way, as though he had just rolled out of bed but still looked better than anyone else. His smile, lazy and self-assured, was both inviting and exasperating all at once. And the way he carried himself—like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t owe respect to anyone, especially those who were supposed to command it—was so far removed from your own nature. Everything about him was an unspoken challenge, a stark contrast to your quiet, controlled existence.

And maybe that’s what drew you in.

It was as if he lived in a world you couldn’t even touch. Your world was about duty, about tradition, about what was expected of you. Love wasn’t something you sought—it was something arranged, planned, calculated, like everything else. You didn’t want to have these feelings for him. You didn’t know how to handle it. Crushes were something you didn’t get. They were for others, people who had the luxury of indulging in their emotions, not someone like you.

Every time you tried to hold his gaze, you found it impossible. His eyes made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain, until you found yourself smiling without meaning to. That made you panic even more, because smiling felt like weakness—something you couldn’t afford to show. So, you did the only thing that felt safe: you faked a frown. It was your armor, the one you knew how to wear, even if it didn’t quite match the fluttering in your chest.

You hated it. You hated feeling this way. You couldn’t tell anyone; you had no one to tell. Not your friends, not your family. Who could understand? Who could possibly get it when your world was already written out for you, and love wasn’t supposed to be part of it?

And yet, every time he walked by, your heart betrayed you. Every time he smiled, so effortlessly, so carelessly, you felt your walls crack, just a little bit more.

——————

Gojo couldn’t quite figure you out. He had never met anyone quite like you, someone who existed in the periphery of his life, who didn’t seem to fit in but still lingered in places where he couldn’t ignore you. The way you carried yourself—quiet, composed, distant—always caught his attention. It wasn’t like you were shy; no, you had this quiet strength, this undeniable presence that stood out even in a room full of people. You spoke with respect, even when it wasn’t deserved, and your words were always measured, never sharp. And yet… there was something about you that made it impossible for him to place.

Around him, you were frowning. It wasn’t that you seemed angry, but your expression was always steeped in something heavy— You never smiled. Never laughed in the way his friends did, never seemed to lighten up like the others. It wasn’t even as if you were a stranger to him. You’d tagged along on missions, hung out with his friends, and somehow fit in without really being in. You were like a shadow, constantly present but never quite seen. You only spoke when spoken to, offering no more than the bare minimum, always on the sidelines, always observing.

And that bothered him. It got under his skin more than he cared to admit. Gojo was used to people being drawn to him, engaging with him, enjoying his presence. But you? You made it clear you didn’t need him, didn’t want him, or anyone else for that matter. It ticked him off, this indifference of yours.

But Gojo wasn’t someone to let things slide, not when it came to his ego, not when it came to understanding people. He started to wonder: Was it just a mask? Nobody, not even someone as enigmatic as you, would walk around with a frown on their face all the time. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something else behind that expression, something deeper. And if it wasn’t a mask, if this was truly who you were, then maybe you were just miserable on purpose. Maybe you were someone who sought to suffer, to shut out the world for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Or maybe… just maybe… it was him you didn’t like. The thought stung more than it should have, but it kept gnawing at him. He remembered the way your frown deepened every time your eyes met, as if you were unable to hide the disdain you felt for him.

He couldn’t help but dwell on it. But… maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t dislike at all. Maybe it was something far more complicated. Maybe you liked him. That thought, for some inexplicable reason, dug at him. The idea of you being silently affected by him, of you possibly harboring feelings for someone like him—an egotistical jerk—bothered him in ways he didn’t care to explore. And that upset him more than he wanted to admit. So, naturally, he decided to talk to Geto about it.

Geto, ever the voice of reason, listened to him with that patient, knowing smile that irritated Gojo more than he cared to admit. When Gojo had shared his suspicions—half joking, half serious—Geto’s response was enough to make his blood run cold. “Maybe it’s the opposite,” Geto had said, his voice almost teasing. “Maybe you like her.”

Gojo had scoffed, immediately dismissing the idea. That’s complete bullshit. He barely knew you. Sure, you were attractive, but looks weren’t enough for him to call it “like.” It wasn’t just about physical attraction. It wasn’t even about the shallow interactions that might have suggested something more. No, it was about who you were, and he couldn’t figure that out. The quiet, withdrawn nature you exuded made it hard for him to place any of this.

But curiosity gnawed at him, more and more each time he saw you, each time you spoke those few words. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, to the way you seemed so completely unaffected by him, yet at the same time, always so close, always so present in the spaces he inhabited. And deep down, he wondered—maybe, just maybe, that was the most intriguing thing about you.

His ego, ever his guide, whispered that he couldn’t like you. Not in this situation, not now. He told himself that, over and over. That’s what his pride demanded. That’s what his ego insisted. But even then, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to you—something that called to him, even if he refused to admit it.

—————

“Just ask her if she hates you.”

“Do you hate me?” Satoru asked suddenly, his voice slicing through the comfortable silence. You froze mid-step.

“What?” you managed to say, confused by both his tone and his question.

Satoru turned to face you fully, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. “It’s weird,” he began, eyes narrowing slightly, “because every time I’m near you, your frown deepens by, like, a millimeter. Do you know how insulting that is for someone of my charm and good looks?”

His deadpan delivery made your head spin. Were you frowning at him? Did your face have a vendetta you weren’t aware of?

You felt a twinge of panic rise in your chest. It wasn’t that you hated him—quite the opposite, actually. But apparently, you were giving him the worst signals in the history of mankind. If there was an award for unintentional mixed signals, you’d win gold every time.

While Satoru stood there, waiting for your response, he didn’t seem inclined to stop talking. “Seriously, you’re always looking at me like I’ve done something horribly wrong. I mean, I’m amazing, so it can’t possibly be my fault, right? Maybe it’s you? Are you allergic to people who are this good-looking? Or maybe—”

You tuned him out for a second, mentally slapping yourself. You waited until he finally ran out of breath, his hands gesturing wildly as if proving some unseen point, and then calmly said, “I don’t hate you.”

Your words landed with a thud, and for a moment, there was blessed silence. Satoru blinked at you, his head tilting like a curious puppy. “You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.” He squinted, suspicious. “Are you sure? Because the frowning thing really had me convinced. Like, I was about to write a thesis on how much you secretly despise me.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure.”

His eyes lit up like someone had just handed him his favorite dessert. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?!” he exclaimed, his grin so wide it could’ve powered a small city. “You had me worried for no reason!”

Before you could respond, he spun on his heel and started skipping away from you down the street. Yes, skipping. He was practically glowing, and you swore you saw actual sparkles radiating off him like some sort of anime protagonist.

————

You guessed that’s when it all started. When he really started to speak and see you more.

The sun beats down relentlessly, its heat pressing into your skin like a heavy hand. You walk along the street, feeling each step drag beneath the oppressive warmth. But then—thankfully—you spot a vending machine. A savior. You eagerly shove money into the slot and press the button, waiting for your drink to fall with a sigh of relief.

And then, a voice cuts through the quiet hum of the afternoon, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re really quiet.”

You flinch slightly, turning to face the voice you already know well. Gojo Satoru stands there, looking as effortless as ever. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, and his usual confident, amused expression is plastered across his face.

You bow, a reflex, and immediately hear the soft sigh he lets out. His gaze is already rolling, and you can practically feel his exasperation “Can you get me a drink too? This heat is killing me!” He says dramatically, fanning himself, though there’s no sign of sweat. Maybe he’s just blessed with not feeling the heat the same way.

You shrug and reach into your pocket, pulling out another coin. “What drink?” you ask, your gaze cool as you meet his. He pauses for a moment, as if trying to decide, before muttering, “I guess, any.”

With a slight tilt of your head, you grab the drinks from the machine, handing him one without much thought. The lychee flavor.

“Hm?” He looks at the drink in his hand, an eyebrow raised. “How’d you know this was my favorite?” His teasing tone is there, but his glasses slip down his nose, and you catch the playful gleam in his eyes.

Your words quiet but clear. “Whenever the group hangs out, I always see you ordering lychee. And you always stare at lychee-flavored drinks when we try to order something else like Sprite.” Your voice is as steady as ever, unaffected by the fact that you’ve just revealed something Gojo didn’t know.

For a split second, he freezes, his lips parting slightly in surprise. And then, the most charming smile spreads across his face. It’s bright, almost blinding.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckles softly to himself, turning his back to you as he takes a sip of the drink. You watch him, your head tilted in quiet curiosity. Is drinking that private to him? But then you notice the faint redness creeping along the tip of his ear. It must be the heat, you reason, but somehow, it’s endearing.

“Goodbye,” you say softly, preparing to leave, but as you start to walk away, you feel him behind you, just a little too close.

You stop, turning your head. “Why are you still following me?” You can’t help the small bite in your tone. Isn’t he bored yet? All you are doing was walking.

He catches up, leans in slightly, and you feel his presence beside you like an unspoken weight. “Because I’m not sick of you yet,” he says, his voice low and warm. There’s something soft in his tone, something genuine—maybe he’s not entirely teasing, after all.

Your steps slow, heart beating a little faster, as the distance between you both closes, and for the first time, you let the silence between you feel like something more than just an awkward pause. Something familiar. Something you might just want to keep.

————

The group meandered down the lively street, their laughter and casual chatter mingling with the bustling sounds of vendors calling out and the sizzle of food being cooked on open grills. The scent of roasted chestnuts and skewered meat wafted through the crisp evening air, but your attention was elsewhere.

You were trailing behind the others with Satoru, who seemed unusually content staying close by your side. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his usual carefree demeanor was only slightly overshadowed by the way he kept glancing at you.

When your gaze caught on a bright, retro-looking machine, curiosity flickered in your eyes. It was old-fashioned, boxy, and decorated with neon lights.

Satoru noticed your intrigue immediately. “Oh! It’s a Photo Booth!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Before you could even process what he said, he grabbed your hand, his warm fingers wrapping around yours, and tugged you toward the machine. The group called out after you, confused about your sudden departure, but Satoru didn’t even turn around.

“We’ll catch up!” he hollered over his shoulder before turning back to you with a mischievous grin.

The booth was cramped and a little dusty, but Satoru paid no mind as he dug out some coins and inserted them into the slot. He held the curtain open for you, and you ducked inside hesitantly, feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation.

“Let’s just snap a few pictures,” Satoru said, crouching slightly to get a better look at the buttons on the machine. “How does this thing work again…?” He frowned in concentration, poking a few random buttons until the countdown suddenly began.

“Three… Two…”

The numbers flashing on the screen triggered a burst of panic in both of you. You scrambled to get into position, barely managing to sit up straight and look at the camera as it clicked. The result was… less than flattering.

Satoru groaned loudly, looking at the preview. “Ugh, we look so stiff. Let’s be more… comfortable,” he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye with a teasing smile.

He hesitated for a second, then moved his arm as if to drape it around your shoulders. But before he could, the camera flashed again, catching him mid-action.

“Shit!” he whispered, his hand retreating quickly as though burned.

“Two more!” you muttered, glancing nervously at the screen.

Satoru didn’t waste time. This time, he grabbed your shoulders firmly and grinned brightly at the camera. His confidence was infectious, and you couldn’t help but manage a small, tentative smile just as the next flash went off.

“Alright, one more,” he said, shifting gears entirely. He threw up a peace sign at the last second, his expression effortlessly goofy. You instinctively copied him, feeling the tension ease. The final flash went off, and the booth chimed to signal the end of the session.

Satoru leaned over to retrieve the printed photos from the slot, and as soon as he saw them, he burst into laughter.

“They caught me looking so ridiculous in the second one!” he said between laughs, showing you the strip. “And look at you—you’re so awkward!”

He handed you a copy of the photos, still chuckling to himself. You stared at them, cheeks burning slightly at how unpolished you looked in the first two shots.

“…I’ll do better next time,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. Satoru immediately stopped laughing. “Oh? Next time?” he asked, his tone playfully curious.

You froze, realizing what you’d just said. “yeah, next time.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his teasing eyes sparkling. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice low and amused.

Before you could respond, he turned back to the others, waving the photos in the air as he called out to Suguru and Shoko. “Hey! Look at these masterpieces! We’re basically models!”

As he walked ahead, your eyes drifted down to the photo strip in your hand. Despite the awkward poses and mismatched expressions, there was something undeniably warm about them.

Next time didn’t sound so bad after all.

————

You both entered a small store, the warmth inside immediately thawing your frozen limbs. Satoru, of course, had made a beeline for the snacks, grabbing armfuls of chips and sweets while you followed, shaking your head. At the register, you pulled out your wallet to pay for his haul.

“Really? You’re paying for me?” he teased, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“I’m feeling generous,” you replied as the cashier handed over the change.

Back outside, the air hit you like a wall, the cold sharper now as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, snuggling into its soft fabric as your breaths came out in puffs of white.

The silence between you was comfortable, the crunch of your boots against the snow the only sound until thick flakes began to fall from the sky. It started softly, a gentle flurry that quickly turned into heavy snowfall, the world around you blanketed in white.

“You cold?” Satoru asked, tilting his head as he looked at you. His blue eyes sparkled, even in the dim light.

You nodded, unable to properly respond as the cold numbed your lips and cheeks. He stopped walking, and before you could question him, he stepped closer, pulling his hands from his pockets.

Suddenly, his hands were on your cheeks, and you flinched at the unexpected warmth. He had heating pads tucked beneath his gloves, the heat seeping into your frozen skin.

“Warm up,” he said with a lopsided grin, his voice soft despite the teasing undertone.

You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth soak in. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of falling snow.

“Not a problem,” he replied, his grin growing wider. His hands lingered a moment longer before dropping back to his sides. He seemed pleased with himself, his expression bright despite the freezing air.

By the time you reached the meeting point, Shoko and Suguru were already there, waiting under the awning of a convenience store. Shoko was lazily sucking on a lollipop, while Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“What took you two so long?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up.

Before you could explain, Satoru grabbed your arm, leaning against you dramatically as a mischievous smile spread across his face.

“On a date, kind of!” he chirped, his tone entirely too casual.

“What?!” Shoko nearly choked, her lollipop falling from her mouth as her wide eyes darted between the two of you.

You immediately shook your head, stepping away from Satoru’s grasp. “We were just running errands,” you said quickly, your voice firm as you glared at him.

“Oh, okay,” Shoko replied, visibly relaxing. She bent down to retrieve her fallen candy, though her smirk told you she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Good. If Satoru got a lover before me, I’d actually die.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru shot back, crossing his arms in mock offense.

“It means you’re insufferable,” Shoko quipped, sticking her tongue out at him before popping the lollipop back in her mouth. Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “You really know how to stir things up, huh, Satoru?”

———

The stars were faint tonight, their shimmer dulled by the glow of city lights. The group had decided to spend their evening lounging at a nearby park, the cool breeze and faint rustle of leaves creating a sense of calm. But for Satoru, it was anything but peaceful. He sat slightly apart from the others, slouched on a bench with his sunglasses perched low on his nose. His usually vibrant energy felt dimmed, weighed down by the unresolved mess of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He sighed heavily, his fingers idly tapping against the bench as he stared into the distance. The chatter and occasional bursts of laughter from his friends blurred into white noise. He zoned out, his mind wandering aimlessly, until he felt someone settle beside him.

He assumed it was Suguru or Shoko, their usual presence comforting in its familiarity. Without looking, he started to speak, his voice low and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “…I’ve been hella bummed out lately,” he admitted, rubbing his temples as he took off his sunglasses. His fingers lingered on the frames, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I think—”

His words faltered when he turned. Your gaze was steady, unflinching, but there was a softness in your expression that made his chest tighten. Satoru blinked, his usual confidence temporarily erased as his jaw slackened. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“Oh, hey,” he finally managed, his voice lacking its usual cocky edge.

You didn’t respond immediately, your focus entirely on him. Your eyes lingered on his face, studying him with an intensity that made his palms sweat. Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but cutting through the quiet.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Satoru froze, his mind scrambling to process what you’d just said. The breeze carried a few strands of your hair across your face, framing you in a way that felt almost cinematic, like a scene pulled straight from a dream.

“Yeah, uh… a signature trait of the Gojo clan,” he replied, a weak attempt to regain his composure. His usual pride crept into his tone, but his heart was beating too fast for him to fully pull off the nonchalance.

You nodded, a small, thoughtful movement. “I know,” you said simply, your voice calm as you turned your gaze forward, leaving him to process the weight of your observation.

Satoru, however, couldn’t look away. His eyes lingered on your side profile—the gentle curve of your cheek, the way your hair danced against your skin in the breeze. The streetlights cast a faint glow over you, and for a moment, he thought you looked ethereal, like something he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved to sit beside.

“Sorry,” he spoke again, breaking the silence. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic gesture of nervousness. “I must be bumming you out, huh?”

“You aren’t,” you replied, your voice quiet but resolute.

It was a simple statement, but it hit him harder than anything else that night. His heart fluttered, his chest tightening as though he’d heard the most beautiful melody in the world. How could two words, said so plainly, hold so much power?

Satoru fell silent, his usual quips and bravado forgotten as he looked at you. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo felt seen—not as the strongest sorcerer, but simply as Satoru.

————

Amanai’s mission

————

The mission was grueling, a constant haze of tension as you protected Riko, the Star Plasma Vessel. It left you drained—physically, mentally. But for now, there was a fleeting moment of quiet. The halls of the building you were staying in were dim, shrouded in the soft, bluish glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. The darkness outside seemed vast, like it could swallow you whole. You yawned, padding silently through the corridor, your destination the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help you sleep.

But as you neared the dimly lit room, you noticed you weren’t alone. A tall figure, familiar even in the faint light, stood by the counter. Gojo Satoru. He wasn’t exactly someone you expected to see here at this hour. His white jacket was gone, leaving him in a simple black shirt, his usually perfect hair a little disheveled. For a second, you debated slipping away unnoticed, your feet shifting carefully on the wooden floor.

“You walk loud,” his voice rang out suddenly, startling you. He turned around, his piercing gaze meeting yours, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

Caught, you gave him a small bow. “What are you doing up so late?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to mask your own unease.

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, though his posture betrayed a weariness he rarely showed. “Not tired,” he replied simply.

You frowned slightly at his vague answer, your concern flickering to life despite yourself. “I have sleeping pills,” you offered, stepping closer.

“They don’t work on me,” he said with a dismissive wave, though his voice lacked its usual playful edge. There was something off about him tonight. He seemed… different. His usual overconfidence and cockiness had dulled, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

You sighed softly, unsure of how to approach him in this rare, unguarded state. Comfort wasn’t exactly your forte, but before you could overthink it, his voice cut through the silence again.

“Can you stay?” he asked, almost too softly for you to believe it was him.

You blinked, turning to face him fully. “What?”

“Company would be nice,” he repeated, his tone light but sincere. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep. Just… stay.”

Something in the way he said it tugged at you. With a small nod, you crossed the room and sat down on the couch near the corner, one seat away from him. You didn’t want to crowd him, but you also didn’t want to leave him alone. The silence stretched between you for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he shifted. Slowly, deliberately, he slid closer, shortening the space between you.

“I’m just watching over,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can’t get distracted. Anyone could show up.”

His words made sense, but the exhaustion lining his features made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t name. “You need rest too,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I can watch over for a while.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice steadier now. “I can deal with it. I’m the strongest, after all.” There it was—his trademark ego, though it felt more like a mask than a truth tonight.

You deadpanned at him, unimpressed. “You’re weirdly stubborn, you know. Just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone.”

He turned his head slightly, his pale lashes lowering as he studied the floor. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” you countered, your voice quieter now. “I’m here.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and they hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended.

His head tilted toward you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, he chuckled softly, the sound more subdued than usual, almost self-deprecating.

Before you could react, he leaned into you, resting his head lightly against your shoulder. The gesture was so uncharacteristic, so vulnerable, that it rendered you momentarily speechless. His hair was soft against your neck, and you realized with a start that his infinity was off.

“Satoru?” you whispered, the surprise evident in your voice.

“Just until the clock strikes five,” he murmured, his voice low, almost drowsy.

You wanted to protest, to ask him what was weighing on him so heavily that even Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, sought solace like this. But you stayed quiet, letting the moment settle between you. Despite his words, you knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was too steady, too measured. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to share it.

So, you stayed. The minutes ticked by in silence, the faint hum of the clock the only sound in the room. His presence, though unexpected, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, grounding, a quiet reminder that even the strongest among you weren’t invincible.

“I’m tired,” Satoru muttered, his voice unusually quiet. He leaned against the counter, his usually perfect posture slightly slouched. It was such a simple statement, yet it felt heavy, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders for once.

You studied him carefully, your brows furrowing. “I have sleeping pills,” you said, your tone steady as you tried to offer a solution.

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t work,” he replied, dismissing the idea with a lazy wave of his hand.

“They’re specifically made for sorcerers,” you added, your voice soft but insistent.

His head tilted, the faintest glimmer of curiosity crossing his face. “They really made that?” he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt… peaceful. The usual tension between you had dissipated, leaving behind a quiet stillness that neither of you rushed to fill.

After a moment, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, breaking the calm. “Sometimes I feel like you hate me,” he said, his tone light but tinged with something else, something harder to place.

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes widening. “What?”

He pouted, his lips curving downward in an almost playful expression. “You won’t even try to push the answer out of me,” he muttered, his gaze shifting away from yours as if he were embarrassed.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. “I just didn’t want to be a bother,” you admitted quietly.

His gaze returned to you, sharper now. “So… do you hate me?”

The question hit you like a physical blow, your heart skipping a beat. Hate him? The thought was absurd. If anything, your feelings leaned far in the opposite direction. But how could you admit that to him now, here, when his usually impenetrable confidence was already fraying at the edges?

“Well, I don’t,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Honestly, despite your ego and occasional… disrespect, you still care about people. Don’t think I missed the way you saw Riko’s sad expression and decided to add another day to this vacation. Even if you’re the strongest, we’re friends, aren’t we? To me, you’re just Gojo Satoru.”

His expression softened, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say something. But you kept going, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Your heart is pure, Satoru. I don’t hate you. In fact, I think that you’re—”

The sentence died in your throat as your eyes locked with his. His expression was completely unguarded, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something raw, something vulnerable. He looked at you as though you’d said the most earth-shattering thing he’d ever heard.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged, as though the slightest movement might shatter whatever fragile thread was holding it together.

Finally, Satoru let out a soft chuckle, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m not getting ahead of myself, am I?” he asked, his tone lighter now, though there was a trace of nervousness behind it.

You shook your head slowly, and that small gesture was all he needed.

He leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as though giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, as though he were afraid to break you. But then the kiss deepened, his hand gently cupping your jaw while his thumb brushed against your skin. He tasted faintly of sugar, and the warmth of him against you sent your heart racing.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken confession. The teasing, the stolen glances, the quiet moments where his guard slipped—it all made sense now.

————

“Satoru,” you started, concern lacing your voice. His eyes flicked to yours briefly, soft yet unwavering. Before you could finish your thought, chaos erupted.

The attack came out of nowhere, swift and violent. Your instincts kicked in as you reached out, shouting, “Satoru!” But he was already moving, stepping in front of you like a wall. He raised his hand, palm out, as if to shield you from more than just the physical threat.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice calm, almost infuriatingly so, as he glanced at you. His usual playful arrogance was replaced by something far more serious. “Get Amanai to Master Tengen’s place. Immediately.”

You hesitated, your heart thundering in your chest. The thought of leaving him here, alone, against—it made your stomach churn. “Satoru, I—”

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes, impossibly blue and still alight with that maddening spark, locked onto yours. “He has to be stopped by the strongest, and… I’m the only one who can do it.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “You always think it’s your job to shoulder everything alone—”

“Because it is,” he said, cutting you off again. This time, his voice softened, as if he was letting you in on a secret. “It’s what I was made for.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but your voice cracked when you finally spoke. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faintest flicker of something—gratitude? relief?—flashed across his face. “If that’s what you want,” he said, his smile quirking up at the edges in that way only Satoru Gojo could manage, even in the face of danger. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last look, your gaze lingering, trying to memorize every detail—the tilt of his head, eyes swirled around his silhouette, the resolute strength that seemed so unshakable.

————

That’s where it all went wrong.

The last clear memory you had was the bitter cold biting at your skin and Satoru’s voice ringing in your ears—calm, steady, and so sure of himself. “Get Amanai to safety. I’ll handle this.” Then chaos. A sharp pain searing through your skull. And then—nothing.

When you woke, the world felt… dimmer. You blinked, groggy and disoriented, only to realize you could only see out of one eye. Panic clawed at your throat as you sat up, heart pounding, reaching up to your face only to feel the bandages covering the gaping absence where your left eye had once been.

You had questions. So many questions. But the answers never came.

Satoru was the first person you thought of. Surely, he would explain what happened, right? But every time you asked, he brushed it off with an infuriating shrug and a nonchalant, “What’s done is done. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

It pissed you off.

You were his friend, weren’t you? You had fought beside him, trusted him with your life. And yet, now it felt like there was this invisible wall between you—one you couldn’t break through, no matter how hard you tried.

Geto wasn’t much better. He was quieter than usual, his sharp edges dulled by something you couldn’t quite place. His frame seemed thinner, his eyes darker. He avoided your gaze during the rare moments you saw him, always in passing. You tried to connect, to figure out what was wrong, but he slipped through your grasp like smoke.

And as for Shoko—she was the glue holding everyone together, but even she seemed stretched too thin. Her humor became brittle, her smiles forced. The four of you, once inseparable, were now like scattered fragments of a mirror, each reflecting a distorted version of what you used to be.

It all came to a head when Geto finally snapped.

The news hit you like a freight train. The murders, the defection, his complete rejection of everything he once stood for—it was almost too much to process. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

But Satoru? He knew. He must have known.

You saw it in the way his posture slumped ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his usual bravado felt more like a mask than ever before. For once, Satoru Gojo—the strongest—looked fragile.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he shut you down every time. “It’s not your problem,” he’d say, his voice clipped and distant. And maybe he was right—maybe it wasn’t your problem. But it was his.

And that made it yours too.

The bond between all of you, once unbreakable, had splintered beyond repair. Missions and eye check-ups consumed your time, leaving you no room to breathe, let alone process everything that had happened. You felt like you were drowning, and no one—not even the people you cared about most—could throw you a lifeline.

The days blurred together, and you found yourself wondering if things had ever truly been as good as you remembered. Or if you’d just been too naive to see the cracks forming from the very beginning.

If only you had stayed with Satoru during the attack.

The thought haunted you, replaying in your mind like a broken record. You had trusted him, as you always did, to be the strongest—to handle everything alone. But what if you hadn’t? What if you had stood by his side, fought with him, and shared the burden instead of leaving him to carry it all? Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he would be different.

But Satoru never let you find out.

He shut you out, retreating into himself like a shell snapped shut. Every attempt you made to reach him was met with indifference—an impenetrable wall of silence. His once vibrant personality, the one that lit up every room, now seemed dimmed, guarded, and distant.

You told yourself it wasn’t your fault, that he was grieving in his own way—over Suguru, over Amanai, over everything that had gone wrong. But guilt sank its claws deep into your mind, whispering relentlessly. You should have stayed. You should have fought harder to help him.

You drowned in that guilt.

And while you struggled, Satoru disappeared into his work. He buried himself in missions, dedicating every ounce of his being to the world of sorcery, leaving no space for anything—or anyone—else. When you tried to talk to him, you were met with clipped tones and hurried goodbyes.

Until one day, there were no goodbyes at all.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

It was as if he had vanished entirely from your life. And just like that, 12 years slipped through your fingers, passing as swiftly as a winter breeze. Time dulled the pain but never truly healed it. Your first love didn’t work out, but you were glad he was the first man you fell in love with.

You had left Jujutsu High not long after Suguru’s betrayal, unable to stomach the memories and the lingering fractures of your once unbreakable bond. The world outside sorcery offered no solace, but it was quieter. You tried to move on, tried to forget, but the echoes of those days followed you like shadows.

Years passed. The simplicity of a normal life wasn’t sustainable. Low pay and rising expenses forced your hand, and eventually, you returned to Jujutsu High. The halls felt colder than you remembered, the laughter of younger sorcerers ringing hollow in your ears.

It was strange being back, stepping into a world that once felt like home but now felt alien. Satoru’s name was on everyone’s lips, his legend only growing in the years you’d been away. But to you, he wasn’t a legend. He was the man who had once smiled at you like you were his whole world, only to shut you out when you needed him most.

And now, here you were—older, wiser, but no less haunted by the ghost of him. Would he still be the same Satoru you had known? Or had time changed him just as it had changed you?

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

————

A deep, involuntary sigh escaped your lips, the frustration of being caught between duty and your own growing hesitations bubbling to the surface. It had become routine: kill, eliminate, destroy. But this time felt different. It was always different when there were no clear lines to cross, no simple black and white.

Stepping out for a moment to breathe, you wandered into the open air. The sky was turning a shade of purple, its glow reflecting the storm inside your mind. The dusk painted the world in a hue of melancholy beauty, and for a moment, you simply watched, trying to ground yourself in the sight of it.

“It’s pretty.”

The voice cut through the air like a soft breeze, familiar yet foreign. You turned swiftly, your eyes locking onto him before your mind had even fully processed the sound. Your heart skipped in that fleeting moment, and your breath caught. There he was. Satoru.

It was as if time had shifted. He stood before you, older now, his blindfold hiding whatever secrets lay behind his eyes. Gone was the reckless, cocky persona, replaced with something quieter, more thoughtful. The aura around him was different, subdued in a way that didn’t match the memory of his youthful arrogance. And yet, he still exuded power, a quiet storm that seemed to whisper of years gone by.

You stood there, frozen, unable to look away. You’d barely noticed the way he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. But you noticed it now. The change, the growth. It was like staring at a ghost of the person you once knew, yet not knowing if you could still reach them.

“I’m telling you, the old man is just stupid.” His voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying urgency in it. The underlying plea. He didn’t need to say it outright—you knew exactly what he was asking. He wasn’t telling you to defy orders. He was asking you not to carry out the mission. Not to destroy the kid.

Your mind reeled. The old man’s orders were clear. You couldn’t just ignore them.

But then, the storm inside you churned. You met Satoru’s eyes—no, not just eyes, but his very soul seemed to be laid bare. It was as if he were pleading for you to see him for who he was now. The same person who once seemed invincible, but now seemed fragile, vulnerable in a way that felt so far removed from the confident, untouchable figure he once was.

“Gojo,” you whispered, your voice calm but steady despite the turmoil. “I can’t disobey orders.” There it was, the wall you’d built to protect yourself. The truth you couldn’t escape from.

His expression softened, his steps drawing nearer. The weight of his presence was undeniable as his hand lightly rested on your shoulder, the warmth seeping through your skin, through your defenses. “I know you,” he murmured, voice lower than before, with a sincerity that almost broke you. “You’re better than this.” His words were a quiet plea, a confession of sorts, as if he was hoping you would remember who you were before the world had scarred you.

And then, his voice, tinged with vulnerability, cracked through the air like a fragile promise. “I guess I’m not worthy, but I’ll ask this one last thing of you.”

You could feel it. That raw, unspoken emotion between the two of you, a fracture that never quite healed. It lingered in the spaces between your words, in the silence that stretched between your breaths. This wasn’t just a mission anymore. This wasn’t just about a cursed kid. It was about you, and him, and everything that had ever been left unsaid.

“… I guess you finally learned how to not deal with the burden yourself,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. The words felt like a release, the truth that you had been holding back for so long. There was a shift in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake, but his low chuckle met you nonetheless.

As he turned and walked away, leaving the space between you cold and vast once again, you stood frozen, your heart heavy with what could have been and what never was. It wasn’t just the kid you had to decide about. It was everything. The past. The present. The tangled threads between you and Gojo Satoru.

And just like that, he was a stranger again.

————

You walked into your office, the familiar scent of paper and ink hanging in the air. The desk was cluttered with scattered papers, the endless work that always seemed to pile up. You glanced over the mess, letting your gaze linger on the various stacks, files, and forgotten notes. It was a typical day—nothing out of the ordinary. Yet something felt different.

As you moved further into the room, your eyes were drawn a bright yellow lily, placed on a stack of papers. Its petals were wide, almost regal, their golden hue catching the light from the window, casting a soft glow over the surrounding chaos.

You paused, the sudden appearance of the flower stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. You leaned closer, inhaling the subtle fragrance that filled the air—a sweet, almost intoxicating scent that seemed out of place in the otherwise sterile, work-heavy atmosphere.

You pursed your lips “geez, I wonder who this is from.”

————

Too lazy to write this but just imagine you got into a deadly fight before the Sukuna vs gojo and boom into a coma.

————

You slowly began to wake from the depths of slumber, your mind groggy but slowly regaining consciousness. The familiar warmth of the bed you were lying, you blinked, trying to adjust your senses to your surroundings. Something was off. The room you found yourself in was so strikingly familiar. An old, worn room, the kind that held fragments of your past—your student days at Jujutsu High. The walls were lined with memories you had long buried.

With a sudden jolt of recognition, you flung yourself out of bed, your heart racing as the weight of nostalgia crashed down upon you. You rushed to the mirror, practically stumbling in your haste, your breath quickening in anticipation. As your eyes landed on the reflection before you, the reality settled in with a shock. It was you—young, untouched by time, and whole in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

There was no trace of the fatigue and scars that had marred you over time. Your eyes, now shimmered with a hopeful innocence, almost as though you had forgotten how to carry the weight of your own choices. Your skin was smooth, without the burdens of experience. You leaned closer, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the surface of the mirror. The reflection of your younger self stared back at you, still so full of promise, so unaware of the pain and regret that would soon mark the years ahead.

Your heart swelled with an aching kind of longing, yet the joy was quickly tainted by a creeping bitterness. Your hands fell to your sides, and you couldn’t stop the rush of memories that hit you like a wave. Was this a gift or a curse? A dream too detailed to be one, a mirror into the past so perfect and raw that it hurt to look. The weight of what you had lost pressed down on you with suffocating force. You had so much ahead of you then, so many chances. You could have chosen differently—could have stayed with Gojo, could have acted faster, been quicker. If only…

A sharp pang of regret twisted your gut as you stared down at the floor, your body tense with frustration. You could feel your chest tightening, your breath shallow. What if you had been there when Gojo needed you most? If you had made the right choices, where would you be now? The bitterness of your thoughts threatened to choke you. The future, the path that was now set before you, had been shaped by your own faults. If only you had chosen differently.

And then, as if in response to your spiraling thoughts, the sharp ring of your phone cut through the silence, jarring you back to the present. Startled, you fumbled to unlock it, the screen flashing to life. A message from Gojo.

—

(Cn: idk what messages looked like back then. Pls don’t come after me.)

—

With a shaky breath, you pushed the overwhelming emotions aside. There was no time for dwelling in sorrow. You had a choice now—an unexpected chance to relive a moment from the past. You shook off the melancholy, forcing your mind to focus on the here and now. You stood up from your reflection, pulling yourself together as best you could. Your gaze swept across the room, the walls adorned with photos, clothes, and memorabilia—each one a reminder of who you once were. The nostalgia hit you hard, but you couldn’t let it pull you under. You were here for a reason, even if you didn’t understand it fully yet.

You hurriedly gathered your things, slipping into your clothes as memories of laughter and camaraderie flooded your mind. The clothing you once wore felt oddly familiar, almost too fitting for a time that felt so distant. Your heart quickened as you finished preparing, the excitement of the amusement park trip creeping into your thoughts. A taxi ride later, and you arrived at the park, your breath catching in your throat. You stared at the entrance, the sounds of distant rides and laughter filling the air. A lump formed in your throat as you approached the gates, your heart hammering with both anticipation and fear.

Would you burst into tears as soon as you saw them? Would they be the same people you once knew, full of warmth and life, or would this dream only amplify the aching void that existed without them? You couldn’t be sure, but the possibility of seeing them—of reliving even just a sliver of those happier times—was too much to deny. Steeling yourself, you stepped forward, your breath shallow, each step a struggle between hope and the reality you knew you would eventually have to face.

The air was thick with excitement, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space, but it wasn’t the noise that caught your attention—it was a voice, sharp and familiar, cutting through the crowd like a beacon.

“Over here!” The voice called out, and you turned instinctively toward it, heart racing, only to find Suguru, standing with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Suguru… The bastard who betrayed Jujutsu society, who killed thousands without hesitation, the man who tried to take your life and the lives of your students. The one you couldn’t save.

For a moment, the memories rushed back—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the silent screams of everyone who had fallen to his hands. He looked so different now. He stood there, as young as he had been in your past, yet there was a softness in his expression you hadn’t remembered. This Suguru was not the man who had tried to destroy everything you held dear, nor the person who had walked away from everything for a cause that seemed too foreign to understand. No, this Suguru seemed almost… like the version you once knew—the friend you never thought you’d lose.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I’m sorry for not noticing how you felt sooner…” The words formed on your lips, but they stayed silent, trapped beneath a weight you couldn’t shake.

You stepped forward, caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and just as you were about to close the distance, to reach out as if nothing had changed, another familiar face emerged from behind him. Shoko. She popped her head over Suguru’s shoulder, grinning playfully, and as always, sucking on a lollipop.

“I’m here too!” she said, her voice full of warmth. She was trying to hide it, but you could tell she was still battling her smoking habit—just another small, bittersweet reminder of the time you’d lost, the years that had passed in between. She looked the same, but different. It was almost as if nothing had changed, yet everything had.

A sharp pang of sorrow gripped your chest as you smiled back, the tears you’d been holding back now threatening to spill. But there was no time to reflect on that. The noise of the crowd, the joy that should have felt comforting, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

“Hey!”

The voice sliced through the air, too familiar, too personal. Satoru’s voice. You froze, a cold shiver running down your spine. The man who had once been your closest friend, your confidant, the one you had been so painfully distant from. He was the one who always stood by you, who never let go, even when you shut him out. The one you had betrayed in the worst way.

No… You didn’t have the right to even think about him like that anymore. You were the reason everything had gone wrong. You were the reason he had been forced into isolation, into being the man who wore a mask for the world—a mask you had helped build, one that only showed the strongest version of himself. He had once been like you—open, raw, vulnerable—but through your decisions, he had become as closed off as you had been. You were the mirror that reflected the worst of him.

And now, standing there, watching him, all you could think of was how you had failed him. The guilt twisted inside you, suffocating you with every breath you took. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to make everything right again. But all you could do was stand there, watching him as he approached, a warmth in his expression that didn’t match the ice in your heart.

“Heyyy?? You were totally zoned out!” His voice broke through the fog in your mind. His hand waved gently in front of your face, a gesture that should have been teasing but only made you want to collapse in on yourself.

“…Hey.” The word escaped you in a barely audible whisper, and your gaze fell to the ground, ashamed, unable to meet his eyes. You could feel his gaze on you, though, and you wanted to scream in apology. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you.

You couldn’t even look at him—Satoru, the man who always gave you that goofy, carefree smile, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even now, despite your coldness, despite the way you had distanced yourself from him, he was smiling at you. His smile was so bright, so effortless, that it made your chest tighten with an unbearable ache. He had always been there for you, and now, you couldn’t even be there for him.

The guilt that swirled within you grew heavier, suffocating you as you forced yourself to look at him. His smile remained, but there was something softer about it now—something that made your heart break even more. You wanted to tell him everything, apologize for every wrong you had done. But instead, you just looked away.

Satoru didn’t seem bothered by your lack of response, his hand falling back to his side as he shrugged it off, turning toward the entrance of the amusement park. “Guess we should go inside, huh?” His voice held the same lightness as always, despite the heaviness in your chest.

Suguru and Shoko followed behind, the four of you walking together like nothing had changed, but everything had. You trailed behind them, your heart in your throat, the weight of your past mistakes pressing down on you with every step you took. You wanted to collapse, to apologize, to make up for everything, but you knew you couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. But for now, you just had to walk beside them, pretending as though this fragile dream wasn’t unraveling in your hands.

—

“Let’s get some plushies!” Shoko exclaimed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up as she darted toward one of the claw machines. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out a few coins and popped them into the slot. “Watch and learn,” she declared, gripping the joystick with determination.

The machine whirred softly as the claw descended, brushing against the edge of a plush panda before slipping away empty-handed. Shoko let out a frustrated groan but quickly tried again. And again. And again. Twenty attempts later, she was clutching her head, biting her lollipop like it had personally offended her.

“What the fuck?! This isn’t fair at all!” she yelled, stomping her foot in frustration. Her usually calm demeanor had evaporated, replaced by the fiery temper of someone truly defeated by a claw machine.

Suguru, leaning casually against the machine next to her, chuckled under his breath. “Move over, rookie. Leave it to the masters.” He flicked his hair over his shoulder with mock arrogance, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, please,” Shoko scoffed, stepping aside begrudgingly. “Let’s see you do better, Mr. Master.”

Suguru slid a few coins into the slot, cracking his knuckles as if gearing up for a monumental task. “This is about precision,” he said, his voice dripping with faux seriousness. “Focus. Strategy.”

The claw descended, snagged the plush bunny by its ear, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like he might succeed. Then, the bunny slipped through the claw’s grip, tumbling back into the pile below.

Suguru stared at the machine in stunned silence. “What?”

Shoko burst out laughing, pointing at him. “Master, huh? You’re no better than me!”

“Alright, amateurs, step aside,” Satoru interjected, pushing past them with his signature cocky grin. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He cracked his neck for dramatic effect, drawing the attention of a few passersby.

“You’re just going to fail like the rest of us,” Shoko muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Bet you five bucks I won’t,” Satoru shot back, sliding his coins into the machine.

The claw descended under his control, shakily grabbing hold of a bright yellow duck. For a moment, it seemed like he had succeeded. But as the claw ascended, the duck slipped free, tumbling back down just like before.

“WHAT?!” Satoru exclaimed, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “This thing is rigged!”

Suguru snorted. “You were saying something about being a pro?”

“Shut up,” Satoru snapped, popping in another coin.

Before long, the three of them were caught in an endless loop of failure, shoving each other out of the way to claim the joystick for another turn.

“You’re hogging it, Satoru!” Shoko yelled, trying to pry his hand off the controls.

“I’m the only one who came close!” Satoru argued, his voice rising in indignation.

“By ‘close,’ do you mean failing slightly less spectacularly?” Suguru quipped, earning himself a half-hearted shove from Satoru.

Their bickering grew louder, each of them trying and failing to best the cursed claw machine. Their laughter and animated arguing filled the arcade, drawing stares from strangers.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Like little kids, they were utterly absorbed in their futile mission, completely unconcerned with how ridiculous they looked. It was almost embarrassing how they were acting up in public.

But then again, their childish giggles and fiery bursts of frustration brought a bittersweet warmth to your chest. These moments, fleeting and full of life, reminded you of why you loved being with them. It wasn’t about the plushies or the competition. It was about this—this messy, chaotic joy that only they could bring.

—

The three of them had finally scored plushies after what felt like an eternity. Suguru held up his monkey with quiet satisfaction, its stitched-on smile mirroring his own subtle grin. Shoko smirked as she turned her smoking egg plushie over in her hands, clearly amused by the absurdity of it. And then there was Satoru, smugly twirling a gray plush rock between his fingers like it was the most priceless treasure in existence.

You couldn’t help but notice how everything about these three—their chosen plushies, their demeanors—felt like echoes, reverberations of something deeper. Memories bubbled to the surface, threatening to drown you. Was it coincidence? Or was the past merely a map of the future yet to unfold? You stared down at the ground, lost in the maze of your thoughts, lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, snapping you back to reality. His gaze was sharp yet playful, the trademark gleam in his eyes. “Where’s your plushie?”

What? This never happened … but dreams aren’t specifically supposed to be accurate…

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck. He didn’t wait for you to respond anyway.

“I got this,” he announced with that unshakable confidence of his, already making his way to the claw machine. “Watch and learn the ways of the strongest.”

You watched as he squared up to the machine, his shoulders rolling back like he was about to take on some ancient curse. His eyes locked onto the prize with laser focus, a pink bear nestled just within reach. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and his fingers worked the joystick with expert precision. He hit the button. The claw descended, brushed against the plushie—and missed.

Satoru froze. His expression didn’t falter, but you could sense the simmering disbelief as he fed another coin into the slot.

Again, the claw moved. Again, it missed.

It became almost comical as the cycle repeated. Five times. Ten times. By the fifteenth attempt, Suguru had slumped against the machine, barely holding back laughter, while Shoko lit an imaginary cigarette in mock frustration. Satoru’s face, meanwhile, remained fixed in a look of determined fury, the joystick now an extension of his will.

“Come on,” he muttered, brows furrowing as he lined up the claw for the twentieth attempt. The plushie wobbled but slipped free. He let out a loud groan of frustration, clutching his head dramatically. “Gah! What’s wrong with this thing?! All my money’s gone!” He patted his pockets in disbelief, as if a miracle coin might magically appear.

But you weren’t paying attention anymore. Somewhere in the midst of Satoru’s theatrical tantrum, the world shifted. The lights of the arcade flickered, the noises dulled, and the air thickened with an unnatural heaviness. You blinked, and suddenly, you were surrounded by shadows. A voice, deafening yet indistinct, cut through the silence.

“Change the future.”

It wasn’t a plea—it was a demand, suffocating in its intensity. The words echoed in your mind, but the speaker remained faceless, nameless.

“You think this is a dream, hm?” the voice said, softening just slightly.

You gasped, a sharp intake of breath that pulled you back to reality. Satoru’s face was inches from yours now, his crystalline eyes scanning your expression with uncharacteristic worry. “Hey… [Name]? You okay?”

You blinked at him, still shaken, his words barely registering.

Before you could spiral further, Satoru straightened up and gave a little cough, trying to regain his usual swagger. “Anyway,” he began, pulling something from behind his back, “my money’s gone, but I got you a present.” He held out a plushie—a butterfly, its wings soft and delicate, its stitched antennae slightly crooked.

“Sorry if it’s not what you wanted,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—”

“Thanks,” you interrupted, the word tumbling out before he could finish. You reached for the plushie, your fingers brushing his for a moment. It wasn’t the butterfly itself that struck you—it was the gesture, the effort behind it.

Satoru’s grin returned, a little lopsided but no less radiant. “Of course,” he said simply.

You clutched the plushie tightly, its soft wings grounding you as your thoughts crystallized. You didn’t know what the voice meant, or who it belonged to. But as you looked at Satoru—his unshakable confidence, his occasional vulnerability—you felt the weight of your decision settle in your chest.

—

The sky turned a deep shade of indigo, stars just beginning to peek through the encroaching darkness. Neon lights from the food stands illuminated your surroundings in bursts of color, their glow reflecting off the shiny wrappers and paper trays strewn across the ground. The lively chatter of the crowd buzzed in your ears, but you barely noticed. Your gaze was fixed on the backs of your friends—Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru—who were engaged in their usual playful bickering. You’d been zoning out all day, a heavy cloud of unease clinging to your thoughts.

“We went everywhere,” Suguru groaned, his shoulders slumping dramatically. “My pockets are empty. Absolutely cleaned out.”

“Same here,” Shoko agreed, lazily flipping through her wallet as if hoping to find some forgotten cash hidden in its folds. “Not even a coin.”

“Speak for yourselves!” Satoru chimed in, his tone both smug and exasperated. “I said we should’ve skipped that overpriced cotton candy, but nooo—‘it’s a carnival, Satoru,’ ‘you’re too uptight, Satoru.’ Now look at us.”

Their banter drew a soft chuckle from you, but the sound barely reached your lips. You were too preoccupied with the lingering thought that had been eating away at you all day.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality. His crystalline blue eyes locked onto yours, a playful tilt to his lips. “You got any money for the roller coaster?”

You blinked, startled, before nodding quickly. “yeah, hang on.” You rummaged through your bag, finally pulling out a few crumpled bills and handing them over. Before you could process what was happening, Satoru casually announced, “I’ll be with [Name].”

That stopped you in your tracks. You stared at him, momentarily stunned, as Shoko and Suguru exchanged glances. There was a split second of silence before the two of them burst into barely contained snickers.

“Thanks for the donation, [Name],” Shoko teased, snatching the money from your hand before you could react.

“Yeah, much appreciated,” Suguru added with a grin.

Before you could protest, they were already walking off toward the line, laughing together like they’d just won the lottery. You turned back to Satoru, your heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest. Alone. With him. On a roller coaster. The thought filled you with unease, and not because of the ride itself. Guilt for the future you knew was coming pressed down on you like a weight, making it hard to breathe.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice was softer now, his teasing edge gone. You hadn’t realized your eyes were glued to the ground until he stepped closer, his hand snaking around yours. His touch was warm, grounding, and it made your breath hitch.

“Let’s get going,” he said, his smile brighter than the carnival lights around you.

You managed a weak nod, letting him pull you toward the line. It wasn’t long, thankfully, but the time it took to move forward felt eternal. Each step closer to the ride amplified the lump in your throat. How could you face him? How could you sit beside him, knowing what you knew?

—

You finally reached the roller coaster, the hum of the machinery and the chatter of excited riders filling the air. As the two of you stepped into the car, Satoru slid into his seat first, his trademark grin in place. He patted the spot next to him with an almost hopeful air, the blue of his eyes sparkling with expectation.

But you hesitated. That tiny flicker of warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten, and you turned away, pretending not to notice. Instead, you slipped into the seat directly across from him. You could almost feel the confusion radiating from him as his smile faltered, his brows knitting together ever so slightly.

“I wonder if Suguru and Shoko are having fun,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, his gaze drifting toward the window. His tone was casual, but there was something else—something unspoken. He didn’t look at you.

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. The tension between you was almost suffocating, an awkward silence that settled like a weight on your chest.

Guilt clawed at you, burrowing deep into your thoughts. It overshadowed everything else, refusing to let go. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t face him with the same ease as before. How could you, knowing what the future held for him? The burden he would bear. The loneliness. Every single struggle he faced, he carried on his own. And you—you hadn’t been there for him. Not when it mattered. Not like he had been for you, time and time again.

The knowledge of your failure stung like an open wound. You hated yourself for it, hated the ache that came with the realization. But even as the guilt threatened to consume you, a flicker of hope sparked deep within.

Maybe… just maybe, I can change it.

That fragile thought lingered for only a moment before reality came crashing down, crushing it into dust. Changing the future would mean rewriting everything—every memory, every bond. The people you had met, the connections you had formed—they would all disappear, erased from existence. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a tiny, selfish part of you refused to let them go.

Your thoughts tangled in knots, and when your eyes finally found Satoru’s, something inside you stilled. His gaze was steady, searching, as though he could see through the barriers you had put up. His expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

And in that moment, you admitted the truth to yourself.

You would be okay with losing everything if it meant he could smile without that weight pressing down on him.

“Is something wrong?” Satoru asked softly, tilting his head like a curious child. His crystalline blue eyes studied you, their usual mischief replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. His confused expression only made your chest tighten further. You quickly shook your head, the tension in your shoulders refusing to release.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you replied, but your voice wavered ever so slightly. The silence between you stretched once again, fragile and heavy, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. You glanced down at your trembling hands, your lips quivering as unspoken words clawed their way up your throat.

“Satoru,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper.

His attention snapped back to you in an instant, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?” he asked, his voice as steady as ever, though his posture straightened. He was worried now.

“Thanks.” The word slipped out before you could second-guess yourself, and his reaction caught you off guard. He blinked, his mouth parting slightly as if he hadn’t heard you right. For a moment, he looked almost… stunned.

Then that familiar grin crept onto his face, lighting up his features like a dawn breaking through the dark. “For what?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity. His hand moved to the back of his neck, scratching it almost sheepishly.

“You know… for everything,” you said, your gaze firmly fixed on the ground. You couldn’t meet his eyes, not when you felt this raw. “All the times you helped me, all the times you stood by me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed through. “I never really said it before, and I should have. I should’ve said it a long time ago.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable, and you bit your lip, already second-guessing yourself. Of course, it’s not enough. It’s such a small thing to say after everything he’s done. He probably thinks I’m ungrateful. You braced yourself for some teasing remark, some cutting joke to lighten the tension.

But it never came.

Instead, you felt a warmth spread through your hand. His. At some point, he’d moved to sit beside you, so close you could feel the faint heat radiating from him. His hand rested gently atop yours, grounding you, steadying the storm inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. “You know, [Name], you’ve made me happier than you’ll ever know.”

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped to his. The sincerity in his smile was almost too much to bear. “Satoru…” you whispered, but he pressed on.

“I mean it,” he continued, his hand squeezing yours. “You’ve been there for me, even when you didn’t realize it. You’ve helped me through so much—more than I’ve ever let on.” He paused, his smile faltering just slightly as his eyes dropped to the space between you. “I want to be with you. The real you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. “And I’ve been trying to hard to find you.”

You swallowed, your voice barely audible. “But I’m right here.”

But he shook his head slowly, almost sadly, his gaze flickering away. “Yeah, but…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t finish the sentence. Then, as if the weight of it all became too much, he leaned forward, his arms wrapping around yours. His head found your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. In the distance, you heard the faint crackle of fireworks, their vibrant light illuminating the night.

“Satoru?” you asked softly, your own voice trembling now.

“Just… just until the ride’s over,” he murmured, his words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the fireworks.

You let him stay there, the closeness both comforting and terrifying. Did you disappoint him? Did your answer fall short? Your thoughts were a whirlwind, but then you felt his vulnerability, the way his weight leaned into you as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself upright anymore. His infinity was off, something you hadn’t experienced in the future. Slowly, tentatively, you reached for his arm, pulling it from your lap and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Satoru,” you said again, firmer this time. He turned his face slightly, his eyes meeting yours, questioning. “Hey… seriously,” he began, a small, almost nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Am I getting ahead of myself here?”

Your heart ached at the sight of him like this—so unsure, so unguarded. You smiled gently, and that was the answer. Your eyes softening as you leaned in closer.

His breath hitched, and before either of you could overthink it, the distance between you disappeared. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as though testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. The world around you dissolved, the fireworks bursting louder and brighter as if celebrating this fragile, precious moment.

When you two finally pulled away, Satoru’s smile was a bittersweet thing, the curve of his lips that only made the pain in his eyes more apparent. They were red-rimmed, exhausted, as if he’d been crying for a long time without letting anyone see. He leaned in, his breath shaky, his voice a quiet whisper —

“Whatever happens,” he said, his tone something vulnerable. “Don’t blame yourself.”

His hands found your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly. The world tilted as you were shoved back, stumbling helplessly, your heart racing with the terror of knowing the finality of it all. Desperation flooded your veins as you reached out, fingers stretching, aching to grasp him, to stop him from slipping away.

“Satoru!” Your voice cracked, torn between the need to hold on and the brutal reality that was unfolding before you.

And then, the ground gave way beneath your feet. The world around you shifted, falling—sinking—until it felt like nothing but darkness wrapped around you. Trying to catch anything to stop the fall, but there was nothing to grab. Only the fading echo of his name in your chest.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, your body drenched in sweat, the cool hospital sheets tangled around you as your heart thudded in your chest. The monitor beeped rhythmically beside you, you reached up instinctively, your fingers pressing against your throbbing temples as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you, twisting around your thoughts.

Your eyes drifted to a TV screen next to you. Live streaming a horrid thing to wake up to.

Tears started to spill from your eyes, hot and relentless, as they tracked down your cheeks. They fell in a rush, like a sudden waterfall, unstoppable and full of grief. The sobs tore through you—broken, desperate, full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say. You could feel the weight of it all in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you, sinking deeper into your soul.

The dream—the dream—had been a desperate, aching hope. A desire for something that could never be. You had wished for it, longed for it, but deep down, you knew. You knew that no amount of yearning could change the cruel, inevitable truth of what had happened. The future was set, and the pain of that truth was something you would have to carry forever.

I’m so sorry, Satoru.

————

This was so rushed and that’s why half the parts make no sense. The parts are extremely fast paced so I’m super sorry , and there would be more angst and yearning if I was more locked in… a lot of Clerith inspired scenes in there but anyways !!

#lazytown😜😜

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you”

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

taglist!

@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance

[japplejottomjeans]

its been long enough to say i didnt like season 4

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧 || 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

【Synopsis】 : a new book shop had opened on the block, and a certain marfia leader was interested in the sweet little owner.

『Word count』 : 9.01k

-> Genre: Mafia. Smut. Romance.

Pairing: Perv!MobBoss!Yunho! X Librarian!Reader

[Warnings] : Pervy Yunho. Like I mean this man is so horny for the reader it's crazy. Really shameless flirting and a lot of flustered most likely cringe moments but it's fine… I promise. Mention of criminal activity. Yunho is a classy criminal, what can I say. Swearing. Tension. Inappropriate thoughts. Strangers to Lovers?? Domestic play. These two already act like an old married couple, confirmed. Making out, oral(f). Fingering. Edging. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex.

Author note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING YAYA!! I hope you enjoy this little treat. This is plot heavy. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I had such bad word vomit. May or may not end up writing another part, we’ll see ahh. Ah, i love you ♡ @skteezcursed ♡

Also this is not beta read so please be mindful of any mistakes ♡

Networks: @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

Masterlist | Navigation

“I’m just saying why can’t you get one of the field boys to do it. You got a meeting in thirty, and I don’t see how explaining to them you were ‘out for an errand’ will solve your tardiness.” The driver scoffed yet again as he took the next right towards the new shop that had just opened a few weeks ago in town. A little book shop. There hadn’t been a proper book shop in this part of the city in years, and Yunho was immediately interested in it.

“Like I said, I want to see this place for myself. I don’t need one of those knuckleheads barging in like they own the place. And none of those bozos will ever say a word. I could be a day late, and they’ll all pretend they were just early.” Yunho rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his whiskey. He felt tired just thinking about that meeting. The one he’s been putting off for months. “Stop here.”

San sighed in defeat before taking a spot on the busy road. No one seemed to bat an eye as a black Chevy Suburban rolled up, but then again, most people on this side of town knew exactly who the car belonged to. “Meet me back here in twenty. Go grab us a coffee or something.”

“Wait but, Sir. You can't just—” Yunho slammed the door to the car. “Leave…”

-

The little bell on the top of the door rang cutely as Yunho entered the quiet establishment. There was barely anyone in here, if not no one at all. Perfect. He thought, given he wanted to be able to meet you in peace. And there you were, casually placing books in their rightful places on the shelves. You are wearing a cute sundress with an apron over it. There’s a little sun pattern all over the fabric, making it match with the pastel yellow ribbon in your hair. You were the most beautiful thing Yunho had ever laid eyes on. And the first time he noticed you were in the cafe, a few shops down. You bought a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. He still remembers the smile on your face when you took that first sip, getting a little foam moustache as a result.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss your sweet face then and there. So naturally, he looked you up. Finding out you had opened up this vintage-urban store. You had moved from outta town, but no one knew where, and your family and history was a mystery. Even to him and his beast detectives. You were no one. And that made you even more interesting. “Come on..just..g-go.”

You were on your tip toes trying to reach the top shelf to put a book back but you being forgetful, left the stool in the back closet and you had decided it was too much of an effort to go back and get it now. You jumping was what you resorted to. You looked like a rabbit in Yunho’s eyes. A sweet little rabbit that’s breast bounced perfectly with every hop. The scrunch in your nose and little tongue poking made him wonder what your face would look like if when you were fucked just right.

His feet moved swiftly until he was flush behind up. You felt his broad chest before you heard him as he softly grabbed the book from your delicate fingers and placed it where it needed to be on the shelf. But what ultimately caught your attention was his smooth voice. “Looked like you needed some help, doll.”

Oh right then and there you felt your life was about to change very dramatically and oh, how it did excite you. “T-thanks.”

“Anytime.” His deep voice spilled in your ears like butter, and his cologne danced around you making the outside world cease to exist. He was walking sex on legs, something out of a dark romance novel and you knew exactly who he was. “So, have you got any book suggestions?”

Your smile grew when he asked the question but Yunho was cringing inside. That was really the best he could do. He’s been watching you for weeks and that was all he could mutter up. You on the other hand, chirped, plodding off deeper into the store. Yunho followed as he watched you scanning the shelves, your fingers tracing the spines of multiple books as you passed them, your mouth quivering out the titles of each one. “Here we go!” You grabbed a black book off the shelf. It had a red misty design all around it with bold white lettering in the centre. It looks magical, like you. “This is one of my favourites. But be warned, it’s a lot of info dumping at the start. But the ending is worth it.”

“Thanks doll. What is it about?” Yunho’s smile makes your heart shake, your fingers grazing his as you hand him the book. Your throat became dry, unable to think of the right words to describe the novel…”Oh it's fantasy…”

You snapped out of your brain as you see the man scanning the blurb on the back, his smile growing into a sly smirk as he read some of the words, Romantic, erudite and suspenseful. You put your jittering hands in the pockets of your apron as you tried your best not to blush. “Y-yeah.. yes. I. It's really good. It’s got witches and vampires, all sorts of creatures.”

Your little ramble caused Yunho to smile ear to ear. The way your face slowly lit up the more you spoke about it, the dramatic movements of your hands as you used them to further express your emotion. He had come to the conclusion you were the cutest thing on the planet. And he would do anything to protect that. “Well I’ll definitely give it a read, sunshine.”

Your like deepened the shade of pink upon hearing the cute nickname that slipped from the tall man. You felt like your legs were slowly turning to jelly at the thought not only was he hot as all fuck, but he was in fact a reader, like you. “T-Tell me what you think when you finish it.”

“I shall.” His remark was quick, the smirk making your heart race. When was he this close to you? Was he always this close to the point you can smell his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath. You gulped, watching his eyes scan from your eyes to your lips, before letting his own by swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I needed to speak with you about something as well.”

His deep authorial voice rattled in your mind, suddenly shaking you from your fantasy, making you remind yourself who exactly was standing in front of you. You nodded with a small ‘of course’ before walking towards the front counter. Yunho followed you as he spoke, “I’m assuming you know who I am…” his throat felt dry at his own words.

“Everybody knows who you are, Mr Jeong.” Your words seemed flattened, almost worried. In truth you were scared, but the murmurs that circled when you first entered the city was not something you took lightly. The cruelness people spoke off. The ruthless man known as the Viper. Mr Jeong Yunho. Too young to be a mafia lord, yet here he stood, powerful, feared and wealthy. “I suppose you were here originally for business then...”

Yunho watched as you took out the logs of the shop, no longer making eye contact with him. Of course you knew who he was, why was he so stupid in thinking he could pretend for one single moment to be someone else. To be a normal guy that could sway the sweet sunflower that owns the book shop. A fantasy, he thought, one that won't come true. “I protect these shops on this street. And I was wondering if you would be interested in getting into the same agreement.” he bit his tongue, trying his best to be professional.

“And what do I have to do to get this sort of treatment…” Your hands were shaking more than you’d like them too, not wishing to look into his cold eyes. But his eyes weren't cold, in fact they were swimming in conflict. He didn’t need anything from you, just like the other shops. No, he protected people that needed it and in return he asked for their favour. Nothing more nothing less. But he didn’t want a favour from you. No he just wanted…

“A smile.” Yunho said sternly.

“W-what?” You finally looked up at him to see a soft smirk on his shaded pink features and then he replied again..

“I want you to smile.”

-

You couldn’t help but yearn for Yunho every time you opened your shop. Waiting for him to walk in through those doors like he did almost two weeks ago now. you still remember the butterflies in your tummy as he said his goodbye…

“Like that.” Your smile grew bigger as he stepped closer to the counter. “It suits you so much.” He picked up your hand gently before placing the softest kiss on your knuckles. You swore your heart stopped at that moment. “I’ll be seeing you, sunshine.”

And with that he left, leaving your blood rushing to your ears and a hefty tip on your counter.

“Hey, so do I sort the biographies by title or by author.” The young worker so reluctantly hired comes rushing in from the store room, his shirt on the wrong way and his laces barely tied… his mother had practically begged you to give him work since he was almost twenty-three and still without job experience. And now you can see why no one wanted to hire the poor thing. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Uh yeah. By author and make sure they are put in the end row by the nonfiction section, please.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you watched him stumble away to the back of the shop, his laces making him side step.

And then you heard a crash. Followed by a quick, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” You felt like you needed to ask.

The young boy rounded the shelf, looking back at you with a face as bright of a pink as the poor flowers he was holding. He had broken another vase... perfect.

“Just put it in the back.” You scratched your chin sighing as he repeated over and over ‘I’m sorry’ while cleaning up the what you’d count as the fourth vase filled with flowers. You shook your head, looking back at the receipt logbook again, going over all the money you’d have made since opening. It was surprising, to say the least, the amount of people that have purchased or borrowed books in such little time made you giddy. You felt a sense of accomplishment at the idea people were reading. The sound of the doorbell chimed, shifting your attention to a possible new customer. “Hello, how can I help…”

“Hey Sunshine.” Yunho’s face beamed with happiness upon seeing you. His casual wear catches you off guard. He almost looked normal and not some big bad mob boss who could get away with your murder. “I’ve read your book.”

“Y-yunho.” You perked, closing the logs before quickly rounding the front desk until you were almost inches from him. Close enough to smell his gorgeous cologne. “That didn’t take you long…”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, reminding himself he had spent hours reading the book when he should have been working. But who was going to yell at him for it anyway? No, he needed to finish the book quickly so he could have something to talk about. “No, I fell in love with it on page one. And besides, the quicker I read it. The quicker I could come back here and ask you for another.”

Your face blushed as he took a step closer. You gulp at the proximity, practically feeling his body heat. His on hand leaning on the counter behind you, closing the distance. "D-do, you have any in mind..."

Yunho watched your eyes flutter close, taking in his aura. He couldn't help but smirk at how much he affected you. Infecting your perfect little innocent act, because from what he read in that novel, he knew you were the sunshine he depicted you as, no, there was a dark streak inside you, and he wanted desperately to draw it out. "I was curious if you got something more spicy. Hmm."

"S-spicy!?" You gasp, opening your eyes to gaze into Yunho deep ones, his pupils blown out, almost consuming all the chocolate in his eyes. His smile only grew, placing his other hand on the other side of your body, now trapping you between his large body and the counter.

"Oh, I know you've got ideas, baby. That book wasn't as innocent as you remember, hm." The tilt in his head made you dizzy. His face inches from yours. If you wanted, you would only need to move an inch to close the gap. To finally feel those lips you'd been dreaming about for the past couple of weeks.

"I could give you some suggestions..." You whispered your breath, mixing with his. Yunho bit his bottom lip, inching closer and closer until his lips graze yours and just enough to—

"I think I lost the log book again in the...." The young boy, frozen, almost dropping some of the books that he held tightly in his hand. Yunho sighs, reluctantly pulling away slowly. You looked down at your feet, feeling like your heart was going to jump right out of your chest. "S-sorry."

"It's okay, George. Just.. Did you leave it on the desk in the back again?" You answered the poor boys' question, making his face light up with cringe. He muttered to himself before scurrying off towards the back room. You look back at the man still caging you against the counter, but his gaze was elsewhere. On the young boy, in fact. Yunho could explain it, but he knows that kid. He's seen him somewhere. His face is so familiar yet lost. "Are you okay?"

Your little murmur caught the mob boss's attention, turning his attention to you once again. He cleared his throat before standing up straight, almost making himself bigger than normal. His gaze still flickered to where the back room was. His gut told him something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. "Yeah, don't worry, sunshine." He finally looked back at you, gifting you one of his award winning smiles, "I'm good."

"Well. I should be getting back to work." You felt a slight twinge of embarrassment circle in your tummy. Getting caught in the arms of a man like Yunho but being caught almost kissing him. That was a scandal and a half. Argh, you can practically hear all the old bettys in the street gossiping already. You go to turn away from him, but his hand grips your upper arm, swinging you into his chest. His free hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Let me take you out." He smirked.

"A date?" You questioned.

"Yes. I like you, sunshine. If that wasn't obvious enough." He could see your ears start to turn pink as you tried to look everywhere else. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears, feeling an overwhelming sense of every emotion under the sun. He leaned closer until his lips grazed your ear, whispering, "Think about it. I'll come back Friday afternoon before you close, and you can tell me your answer."

He lightly kissed your cheek before letting you go, walking out another thought. You just stood there, shocked, thrilled and absolutely terrified.

"You can't go."

"What?" You knitted your brow as you turned to George standing in one of the aisles. He jumped, changing his expression from a plan and cold expression to one of bewilderment.

"Uh, what I mean is you shouldn't. He's not a good man." You can see his grip on the books tighten as he grits his teeth. Your expression stayed the same as you turned your back to him, opening the logbook to where you were before.

"I know who he is." Your words were cold, blunt, almost shocking the young man. He was taken aback, to say the least, but then again, he expected your response. In fact, he hoped for it.

-

Through the following days, you found yourself staring at the clock, waiting, begging for the day to end. You wished desperately for it to be Friday every time you woke up. It was finally Thursday when your craving died a little. An old lady had come in to return a few books, and she had said a fine looking man had asked her to give you a piece of paper. A letter. To say your heart nearly jumped through your throat would have been an understatement. "Hey, George. I need to do some paperwork, watch the store."

"You've never let me work the regis—." You didn't even let the poor boy finish his statement as you sped off towards the back room. Your shaky fingers locked the door as quickly as possible before you practically jumped into the swivel chair. ‘Open it’ you told yourself ‘it has to be from Yunho’. Your smile only grew bigger at the voice singing in your head. You open the paper and see it's written in the most beautiful hand writing you've ever seen. It read;

To my sunshine,

Even though our interactions have been brief, I have to confess that crossing paths in your bookshop was not the first time I've noticed your beautiful presence. I first saw you in the cafe, three shops down. The way you were lost in your book while sipping on your hot chocolate made me want to dive into your mind and see its wonders. Curious what could be lying within… You’ve been on my mind ever since. I have found I am unable to sleep at night without the thought of you. Call me old-fashioned with this letter, but I needed to get this off my chest without blabbering like a fool in front of you. I can't wait for our date tomorrow that I know you’ll say yes to. But until then. A gift…

You look at the bottom of the page and note there is a phone number. If the confession of love wasn't enough, him giving you his number was certainly going to kill you. You had already planned to say yes to his date but now an idea sparked in your mind. In truth, you have found feelings towards Yunho, like you had been made for one another. No amount of time, whether little or long it was, you know your feeling would stay the same. So you wanted to take the reins for once, even if deep down you knew you wouldn't be able to hold them for long.

Sunshine// I got your letter. I want you here out the front by 6 pm, wear something casual.

You left no room for argument as you shut your phone off and held your head high. George’s expression of unpleasantness couldnt… wouldnt, stop you from the growing butterflies in your gut. You were finally going to be happy, and Yunho was the one going to give it to you.

-

You swore it wasn’t this cold yesterday afternoon, the keys almost sticking to your ice cold fingers. You checked the locks to the doors one final time before letting out a sigh of relief and nerves, ready to call it a night. “Well hello, Sunshine.”

You turned with a smile, seeing the man of the hour. He was wearing a less-fancy dress suit. No tie, or cuff links. You couldn't help but giggle. “I said casual wear Yun…”

“What do you mean love? This is casual.” He chuckled, taking two large steps to you, closing the gap. His hand snuck around your waist, squeezing the flesh on your hips. “Where are we off to tonight?”

“A surprise. So you’ll just have to trust me.” You giggle, your palm resting on his chest. You could feel his heart racing a million miles, yet he looked so composed. But then again in his field of ‘work’ he needed to show almost no signs of emotion.

“I’d trust you with my life.” Yunho had never used those words so lightly, but it was the truth. He couldn't explain it but he could easily lay his life down for you. You could crush it if you wished and he wouldn't say a thing. You blushed at his confession, reaching on your tiptoes you kiss the rugged man's cheek, before pulling away towards the street.

“I loved your letter by the way.” And with that you turned to start walking, letting Yunho trail after you like a love sick puppy.

“Just this way…” Yunho followed you curiously as you weaved through the streets. There were no restaurants or diners around in this area he knew of and given he owned half the city he should be aware of almost everything. So where on earth were you taking him? You turned your head over your shoulders spotting the confusion on his face, you couldn't help but giggle at his wide boba-like eyes. You outstretched your hand, waiting for him to take it. Yunho swore he felt his heart stop when he locked his fingers with yours. Yunho has never put this much trust in a person before and yet he has found himself being led by you through the front door of an apartment complex and up three flights of stairs before coming to a stop at a door that read 117. “I..”

All the words you had prepared to say had suddenly flown out the window as you slotted the key into the lock. Yunho’s smirk grew as he watched your brain scramble, finding enjoyment in watching you squirm. “And here I thought you had an innocent date planned. But my cheeky little sunshine just wanted me all to herself, hmm?”

“N-no!!” you whipped your head to his direction, leaning against the door with blush riddled on your cheeks. “I-i just wanted to make you a home cooked meal. I-i prefer cooking over going out.” You dipped your head to the ground feeling a little ashamed of your introvertedness. Bringing such a dangerous man home wasn't exactly the thought that crossed your brain when you thought of this evening. In truth you were only thinking about treating him to your cooking, something you took pride in. “I’m not very good with other people.”

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting your face up so he could look at you in the eyes. There was no judgement in his soft gaze, heck even his killer smirk was now only a small simple smile. “As long as I'm with you, we could be doing anything, besides…” He leaned down to give the side of your face a kiss before whispering, “I’m not one for crowds either.”

You gulped, nodding slightly as you turned back to open the door. Yunho’s gaze shifted from yours as soon as he heard the creek of the wood, finally getting a peek inside your little place you call home. Your place was riddled with a vintage, cottagey-like aesthetic. It was like Yunho had stumbled into a fairies hut that was hidden away in the woods.the smell of your salt lamp was strong but not as strong as the calming lavender. He felt like the air around him was giving him the warmest hug. Everything was soft, cute, and dainty… just like you. You lead him deeper into the apartment, letting him take the lead once you get to an archway. It led into the lounge room he found, spotting the emerald couch and various bookshelves encasing a tv cabinet. “Uh..I… make yourself at home, i just got to put away some things and i’ll start to prepare dinner.”

You scurried off before he had the chance to protest, not that he would have that is. He was almost scared to take a seat, his black on black attire completely stuck out to the surroundings. Slicked back hair, expensive accessories, shoes worth more than most of your furniture… He was so out of place. Taking a seat he felt himself sink into the cushions. He was being bombarded by plushies falling onto him as he shifted to get comfortable. Everything smelled like you, sweet, sugary, a hint of freshly baked goods and old books. He couldn’t help him, leaning down he brought his face to a blanket you use regularly when lounging on the couch. He took a deep inhale. ‘God help me’ he'd think to himself as his fingers tangled in the soft fabric, feeling his hips twitch at the thought of your scent round him. Paint him as a pervert, he didn't care, all he cared about in this moment was the feeling of you. Craving, begging to see if he could have you as more.

A loud clunk caught his attention, making him snap out of the haze clogging his mind. He’s never sat up quicker, swiftly moving towards the kitchen to only find you with a pot on the ground and the lid firmly in your hand as if you were using it as a shield. “Whoops…” was all you could mutter, feeling like your nerves had been shot from the loud noise. Yunho scooped up the pot, trying to see if you were okay only to see your face completely red. The same red as the tomatoes on the counter. “I can't stop my hands shaking,”

You tried to laugh it off lightly at how nervous you were with such a man like Yunho being in your house. You were starting to regret bringing him here and wishing you just sucked it up and took him to a restaurant instead. Yunho's free hand placed itself on your upper arm, gently rubbing up and down on your soft skin before giving the flesh a squeeze. He hadn't even realised you were dressed in something different, another sundress, but this one was black with lace accents on the hems. the ribbon holding up your hair matched it accordingly. “Hey It's okay. Just take a deep breath, baby.”

Him calling you all these pet names weren't helping but you obeyed him as best as you could nonetheless. “I just feel a little silly bringing you here. You know since we barely know one another and I don't want you to get the wrong impression…”

“And what kind of impression would you be giving me, hmm?” He didn't mean to come off as teasing but his deep tone caused him to always sound alluring.

“I..uh. That I wanted to just get you to my place to sleep with you. Cause that's not the reason i just really dont l-like—” you stopped rambling as soon as your eyes met Yunho’s. His dark blown out gaze causes your words to get caught in your throat.Yunho had put the pot down a while ago, his spine straight as he stepped closer. You instinctively took a step back and then another before your hips made contact with the counter. Yunho placed a foot on either side of yours and his hands on the marble behind you. You were caged.

"And what if that was the reason? Would it be so bad?" It was like his voice got deeper, more sultry as he took a deep grumbling breath, taking in the scent of your perfume and shampoo.

"I j-just don't want to ruin anything we could have." You whispered, your eyes fluttering close. But Yunho simply stared holes into your flesh, like he could see straight to your soul. This cute little thing in front of him wants more than a hookup? Wants to actually get to know him? He doesn't know if he had just won the jackpot, or this was, in fact, a cruel dream he hadn't woken up to yet.

"Trust me, darling. Nothing you can do will ruin anything between us..." he leaned down to your ear, "Even if it's sex."

You choked when you heard him groan that unruly word. Your hand clapping over your mouth to hide your gasp. Never in your life have you been put into a situation quite sultry as this one. The men you’ve dated were only stereotypical, self-centered or mama’s boys. Worse if they were all three. But Yunho was different. He is no gentleman but yet, if you asked for the moon he would do anything to give it to you. He is not a nice man but if someone were to hurt the old lady that runs the little shoe shop down the street he would not be afraid to kill the fucker who did her wrong. He is not a lover but he’d be damned if he didnt wife you up the moment he could. Yunho was different and that's why you had quickly fallen for the man even if those around you did not approve. “W-what if I were to ask for more tonight. Not just dinner…”

Yunho’s heart stopped, he was sure of it. His body moving closer his lips inches from your own, “I would give anything your pretty little heart desires… all you gotta say is, please.”

You opened your eyes to see his dark ones locked on you. Moving your hand slowly, you snaked them gently around his neck, feeling his soft locks tangle between your fingers. “Please…” His lips locked onto yours, stealing the yelp from your throat. His hands that were gripping firmly on the counter now tugged at your hips, bringing you flushed against him. You could feel his body heat pool where you needed him most. You’ve never been kissed like this before. The softness with pure desperation lingering. It was as if your nerves exploded with little fireworks across your spine as you shiver under him. “Y-yu..y..” He was quick to swallow your cries, using his leg to spread your thighs more so he could easily slip between them.

“If we keep going, We aren't having dinner.” Yunho groaned against your tongue, pulling away with a tug on your bottom lip. He could hear a slight ring in his blushed ears, feeling his whole body shaking, craving to keep going. But he needed you to take the lead. Tell him what you wanted… for now.

“My bedroom is the first door on the left.” Your smile seemed to be contagious as Yunho couldn't help but give you a cheeky little smirk in return. He wasted no time in taking a hold of your lips again, but this time he took a step back, letting you both shuffle ungracefully towards the hallway. You huffed as you almost tripped, giving up with the kiss. You grabbed a hold of his hand that was still tightly against your hip, intertwining your fingers withs his. You both stood there for a moment. Nothing but battered breath and racing heart beats could be heard. It was like the world had ceased to exist around this very moment. His hazy gaze travelled from where you were both connected, up your soft arms, until he reached your lips. They were swollen, puffy and pink. Beautiful… Yunho thought. Everything about you was simply beautiful.

You gave him a soft smile, one he has never seen ever pointed in his direction, and with your hands tightly interlocked, you lead him slowly into your bedroom. A shy grin decorated your features. Something that Yunho's dark stare didn't linger from, as if he needed to map out every curve and twist to keep it perfectly accurate in his mind for years to come. From the intense gaze, you look away and towards your bed.

As soon as you opened the door, Yunho was met with the sweetest scent. It was so much stronger than the one that painted your apartment. Strawberries, vanilla, and brown sugar. The room wasn't much different from the rest of your place. It was neat, tidy. But there were blankets and plushies galore on your bed. Like a little nest to keep you safe from the outside world. The bedding was a forest green that matched the similar greens on your desk that sat in the corner. You, of course, had a bookshelf in here, too, filled with a number of different kinds of novels. Yunho reminded himself to bring up the one you recommended to him when you first met.

"Cute..." Was all he spoke, making your red face become even more hotter. You turned back to him, seeing his gaze glued to you, eyeing you with a devilish smirk. "...Just like you.”

Yunho lowered himself to place his lips on yours in another heated kiss. His hands wandered lower and lower, making your own fly to grab his shoulders. He backs you up slowly, step by step. Your hazy mind was too focused on the deepening kiss to notice any movement. It wasn't until you were suddenly startled by the edge of the bed hitting your thighs that you pulled away from the man in front of you. Yunho didn't hesitate to push you back gently. The little yelp that escaped your throat would have sounded pathetic if in a different scenario, but Yunho couldn't help but groan in response to the sound. Before you could protest anything, Yunho quickly stifled any noise as he followed you to capture your lips once more in a fierce kiss.

Teeth clashed against each other, and tongues danced like there was no tomorrow. It was like Yunho couldn't get enough of you. He needed to taste you in every way possible. The whimper that slipped from him as his mouth ventures lower to your jaw, biting and lapping at your skin. Then the same is done to your neck, your collarbone, all the way to the part of your breasts that was exposed by your sundress. You gasp, tipping your head back onto the plushies behind you while your hands loosen from the fabric on his shoulders.

Yunho suddenly stopped, his dark gaze looking up at your flushed expression. You're as red as a tomato with glossed over eyes, and God is it a delicious look on you.

"Such a pretty little thing." He groans, his voice all but a hushed whisper, slowly snaking his hands to your knees, playing with the lacy hem of your dress. "May I, Sunshine?" You nodded while biting your lip, a little too enthusiastically, shifting a little side to side. You tried to ease some of the ache between your legs.

“Use your words, Darling,” He grins, his touch unmoving.

“Please Yunho,” you finally squeak out. He shifts his body lower until he is snuggly between your legs. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes while his tongue coaks a thin layer of spit on his lips was enough to make you wet. You shiver as his large hands run from your knee, up your thigh, under your dress before returning back to your knee, tantalisingly. As if marvelling at what was before him. What you were gifting him. He does it again, this time letting his finger tips linger a little bit longer on your inner thigh before pulling away completely, leaving a thrilling chill to run down your spin. “I need you…”

His ghosting hand places itself back on the soft parts of your thighs, squeezing as he heard those three words slip from your pretty mouth. “You need me, sunshine? Need me to take the ache away? Tell me what you need, baby.”

“I want you to taste me…” You felt shy whispering such filth but Yunho on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow at your daring comment. It was something so daring it brought a smile to his older features. His little sunshine wasn’t innocent and he was slowly drawing the darkness out. His thumbs hooked on the edge of the dress hesitating before pulling the fabric up, agonisingly slow.

“Hmm, I knew my girl had a dark side.” He spoke with a lightly chuckle escaping his reddened lips from him biting them in anticipation. My girl…those words played in your head on loop, like your new favourite song. My girl. Argh you would never get over him saying that. He hikes your dress up higher to reveal your cute purple panties with a deep wet patch on them. You’re soaked right through. It was like he couldn't help himself, taking his pointer finger he pressed firmly on the patch watching the fabric stick to your core. He couldn't help but groan, “All this talk and here you are…dripping.”

Yunho dragged you underwear down your thighs. The cool air that crept from your bedroom window immediately hits the warmth of your core below. His fingers snatch the fabric clean off your legs, flicking them off to the side somewhere before his lustful gaze finally sets on the prize he had been yearning for ever since he first met you.

He swipes his thumb over your aching cunt, collecting some slick with his finger. It sent a jolt through you, your thighs twitching without your control. He coated his fingers more, watching your juices spill down his digit onto his knuckles. He does it once more for good measure, this time rubbing over your clit to earn himself a delicious whine from you. You grip at the bedsheets, widening your legs further for him unconsciously as he continues to play and rub at your clit just right. "Fuck...Yun."

"That's it sunshine, feeling good?" He chuckled watching you flinch as he pressed harshly on your clit. He snaked closer before his face was inches from you. He blew onto your wet lips, causing a gasp to leave you, but the gasp quickly turned into a high-pitched whine as you suddenly felt the warmth of his mouth upon you. He begins to lap up your pussy all the while still harshly circling your clit, moans escaping your parted lips. The noises turned into something desperate when the thumb was replaced by his firm tongue, pressing down and licking at your swollen bud, again and again. Yunho groaned against you, bucking his hips into the mattress at a stuttering pace. You took notice of his whine, feeling another one while he ground his hips just right against the sheets.

"Please, yuyu, t-that. I..ah."

You've never had any man pay this much attention to you before, let alone find enjoyment in eating you out. You can feel yourself becoming absolutely soaked just under the sensation of his mouth. Your legs quiver and shake, unable to control your movements as you feel yourself tip closer to the edge.

You try to take a deep breath. Feeling yourself already so close has made you feel slightly embarrassed. But as he sunk his long finger inside of your cunt, all the nerves seemingly washed away. Another one slid in easily and "Nh-ah YUNHO!" He curls them upwards, right to the spot that sends a spark of electricity crackling through your core.

He begins a steady rhythm along with his tongue continuously lapping your clit like he was a starved man taking his fill of a goddesses nectar and you're unable to control the noises and pants that fall from your throat. You grip one hand into the sheets as flies to grab the back of your thigh. lifting your leg up further to give him more access. You need more. You craved more. You've never felt this good before, and your being was demanding to be selfish for once.

He added a third finger as if he knew you needed something more. It made your head slam into the pillow behind you, turning to almost shout into the soft cushioning, muffling yourself for your poor neighbours. He works up a good rhythm, finding what buttons to push, succeeding in getting to know what your body wants. Groans from him and other lustfulled sniffles fill the room, as your thighs clamp down around the mob boss's head, keeping him where he is.

He could barely breath as your hips buck against his soaked face. But he couldn't care less. In fact, he would be happy if he died like this. In between the legs of his best girl, his pretty little sunshine. You felt like you were about to explode but the euphoria didn't last long as Yunho used his free hand that had been holding onto your outer thigh to pull your legs apart, holding them in place so he could sit up slightly. "You close, baby? Do you need to cum?"

"Yes!" You answered in a choked whine needing to feel his mouth on you once again.

"Yes, what sunshine?" Normally, he would be one for punishment, and given you kept breaking rules, he was most certainly craving to punish you. But it decided to let it slide this one. He has more than enough time to mould you and shape you into his perfect angel later. But for now, he'll see what type of filth he can draw from you.

"Yes, please, Yunho." Your glossed eyes finally opened for the first time in what felt like years, your tears clouding most of your vision but you could still see the darkness in Yunho's gaze and how his chin was dripping with slick. Your slick.

He drove his fingers deeper, his knuckles brushing your walls as he slammed his digits in a calculated thrusts. Harsh, slow, and powerful. You become louder, needier, and you can’t get your breathing under control. You’re teetering right on the edge. Ready. Right there and then...

He stops.

His glistening face had the cheekiest, wet grin across it like he felt proud of edging you. You on the other hand looked almost shocked panting louding, heart beating in your ears with flush brilliant red cheeks. You lick your lips as you run your hand over your mouth before raking it through your slightly dishevelled hair. Your eyes grew narrow as you stared at the man between your shaking legs. He holds your thighs apart so you can’t clamp them shut to try and stop the intense tingling between, causing you to huff in frustration.

“Don’t need to ruin the fun now, princess,” he inquired as he stood up off the bed, towering over your weak looking frame. The moon light that was pooling in the room caused his shadow to engulf you, covering your body in his darkness. He looked powerful. He looked dangerous. Like the man everyone warned you about. The feared mafia leader of the Destiny clan. He pulls you by your ankles, yanking you until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand gripped the back of your neck gently bringing your face to his so he could kiss you. But you kept your hand over your mouth, your other hand coming to place on his chest, holding him firmly in face with a hidden smirk.

“You are a cruel man.” You gestured to him not letting you finish, but in truth, the word cruel hung in the air like thick tension. Cruel. A word he was sadly used to. But not in this kind of way. It almost delighted him. You felt your heart jump as he raised his brow, coming closer so that he’s only a hair’s breadth away from the back of your hand. His dark eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail.

“Hmm why? You taste so sweet,” He bit his lip, “I want you to have a taste?” He mimics what you asked prior. You swallowed thickly with wide eyes nodding shyly. Slowly, you moved your hand away as he paused for a moment, just to see your flustered face once more. “Cute…”

He dives in, kissing you, lapping at your lips. His teeth nibbling, and his teeth clashing against yours. You could taste the muskiness of yourself on his tongue, the sweetness that lingered. You deepen the kiss, allowing his hand on the back of your neck to hold it still in place, giving up any power to give him everything of your being. Your hands shift to his shirt, catching the hem between your finger tips before tugging at the fabric. He seemed to get the gist as he pulled away for only a mere couple of seconds to pull his shirt off, snatching your lips against his once more.

Your fingers trace his body with your sight, feeling all the bumps of scar tissue and muscle. More proof of his status, of who he really was. But yet you still couldn’t pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you ever will. “Yu..” You huffed against his lips, “Yun I..”

He pulls away, letting his nose rub against yours while his eyes stay tightly sealed, taking in the moment like he was never going to be able to get it again. “What is it, my sunshine.”

“I need you… please.” You voice was barely above a whisper, only you and him being able to ever hear your little plea. His smile. His addicting smile made the butterflies in your tummy swoon. His hand that was firmly on your neck slid down until it found the zipper to your dress, playing with the metal between his digits.

“Can you stand?” He gently asked, waiting for you to nod a small ‘yes’. He helped you stand, the backs of your thighs still tightly against the edge of the bed, as if they were helping you stand. He finally pulled away, letting your eyes wander down his toned, damaged chest. He had tattoos up both arms, one of his right peck and one faintly sticking out on the top of his low slacks. You licked your swollen lips unconsciously as you gawked at him. Yunho on the other hand couldn't help but grin sinisterly at your reaction, delicately grabbing the zipper on your dress, he unzipped it until the straps of your dress loosened and fell from your shoulders.

The fabric pooled at your chest, your arms tightly holding it in place. “I…”

“Are you okay, love?” Your eyes snapped to his deep chocolate ones when he called you ‘love’, feeling your nerves crackling like fireworks. He tilted his head to the slide marginally, his smirk fading to a simple smile but his eyes never dimming their darkness. His hands gripped tightly onto his belt, unlooping it before throwing it somewhere in the room. He had made you watch his every move as he unzipped his slack unhurriedly. He could see the darkness begin to cloud your colourful eyes, your pupils growing large as the fabric fell to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. “Your turn.”

His voice somehow got deeper. His fingers gliding along your goosebumped skin. You took a deep inhale through your nose before letting your dress drop, pooling at your ankles. "Fuck..."

"Yun..." You dont even know why you called his name, but he was immediately on you, his one hand resting on your bare hip while the other effortlessly unhooked your bra in one quick snap, watching your plump breast spring free. He almost bent you in half when he brought his face to your tits, taking a deep breath, smelling your perfume on your sweaty skin. His tongue licked along the valley, groaning as he latched his mouth to your left nipple. "Fuck yuyu, nargh."

Your hands tangled in his hair as you feel back, dragging him with you as you fell on the bed with an 'oof'. He used his strong arms to throw your body upwards until your head hit the pillows, not leaving your breasts alone. He painted every part of skin he could with beautiful purple marks. Neading your chest, tugging on your nipples and wetting every surface. You could lay here and suck your tits for hours if you let him. But he knew you needed more. He needed more. Feel what it's like to be inside you.

"Such perfect tits. A pretty body. Everything about you is perfect sunshine. Hmm. My perfect girl." His praise made you whimper, a tear creeping out the corner of your eyes. You've never had someone say such kind things to you, praised you the way Yunho has been. For a cruel man, he was the kindest person you've ever met.

"Yu..yunho, please. I need you inside me." You whispered, tugging his head up by his hair so his lips were inches from your own. He gave you a small peck before sitting up slightly so he could wrap his legs around his waist, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Whatever my girl wants, she’ll get.” He sunk inside your soaked cunt inch by inch, bit by bit, until he bottomed you out. He shivered at the feling of your warm walls clenching tightly around him. His eyes squeezing shut and face burring in your neck. He could feel the coil in his gut already tug. he was going to cum any second and he felt embarrassed how quick you’ve made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. “Fuck sunshine, you feel so nice. You’re pussy is sucking me in ngah.”

“Yunho please move.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, grinding upwards onto his public bone, feeling the friction ease the ache only just. It was like a switch went off when Yunho heard your little plea, snapping his hips into yours are such a pace it caused the air to be snatched out of your lungs. If you werent being fucked by the inch of your life you would of felt sorry towards your neightbours as a string of cries, swears and pet names bounced off the thin walls of your bedroom. Yunho drug his nails in the soft flesh of your waist, surely creating deep indents that you’d been flaunting for days to come.

You’ve never felt such a connection to another person before let alone a man. You were brought up with the idea that love didn’t exsit. That it was only a dream that settled in the books you’ve read. But the way Yunho made you feel, the way he made you want to feel. It was like you were in those books you’ve read.. “Yu..Yu I—”

“It okay baby. Let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” He sat up just slightly grabbing both of your wrists he held your hands above your head, lacing his fingers harshly around your appendage. Bending one of your legs over his shoulder, he jackhammered into you at a sped that was just what you needed, feeling his waist grind on your clit, giving you the right amount of simulation to let go. “That’s it, darling.”

Your foggy eyes, riddled with tears, stared up at Yunho’s never leaving his gaze. He watch every detail your face made as you came crashing down from your high. The way you brows cross, you mouth hung only ajar and savlia dripping down your chin. You were the hottest thing he had ever laid eyes on, he was certain. “Fuck, sunshine, can I come inside you. Can I feel this pretty pussy up?”

His eyes begun to flutter closed as he felt a rush of need spill down his spine. You whimpered out a daring ‘yes please’ making him bust his load deep inside you, coaking your walls before some of his cum leaked out around his cock that stilled in you. Clouds daced around you, the softness of air tickling your sweaty flesh. Every nerve in your body was on an all time high and it was all thanks to the dangerous man above you. Yunho had let go of your wrist, kissing each one tendly. You simply lazily watched him, basking in the moment, never wanting it to end.

-♡

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

.

RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

[ange1heavensent]

An inch away from more than just friends

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Pairing: loser!ellie x loser!fem reader

Content Warning: making out, mentions of sex scene in film, fic loosely based on Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan

w/c ≈ 1200

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Jackson had a way of making the world feel still. Days came and went, each one blending into the next with the simplicity of routine. For you, that routine often involved ending your day at Ellie’s place, curled up together watching whatever strange or offbeat movie she’d dug up. Tonight, like so many nights before, you’d settled into that rhythm, expecting nothing more than the usual.

Ellie greeted you at the door, her hair messy from what you imagined had been a lazy day of reading or sketching. You stepped inside, shrugging off your jacket, trying to shake the feeling that something was a little different tonight.

“Everything alright with you?” Ellie muttered, hands in her pockets. Her voice was casual, but you noticed the tension beneath it, something unspoken in the way she barely met your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, following her into the “bedroom” where she’d already set up the movie Mulholland Drive. You threw yourself onto the bed while Ellie stayed standing, fiddling with the remote. She seemed more on edge than usual, fidgeting with her sleeves, avoiding looking at you for too long. You tried to shake off the weirdness, focusing on the movie as the opening credits rolled. For the first half, things were mostly normal. Ellie made the occasional comment, and you both laughed at the more bizarre parts of the plot. But then… the scene happened. A sex scene hit the screen, and the air between you two shifted in an instant.

You felt it immediately, the awkwardness that spread like wildfire. Ellie stiffened beside you, eyes glued to the screen but not really watching. Your heart pounded as your mind raced, hyper-aware of how close your bodies were. The heat from her leg brushing against yours suddenly felt like too much, like it was burning through your jeans. 

You weren’t exactly a stranger to sex scenes in movies, but this time it felt different, more intimate. Too intimate. You risked a glance at Ellie and saw the tension in her jaw, her hand gripping the bedsheets tightly. She wasn’t handling it any better than you were.

God, why did this feel so… charged?

You looked away quickly, trying to focus on literally anything else. But the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. When the scene finally ended, it left an awkward tension that lingered long after. The rest of the movie passed in a blur. You weren’t paying attention anymore. All you could think about was Ellie, how her hand was so close to yours, how your heart was still racing even though the scene had long since ended. 

When the credits rolled, Ellie jumped to her feet like she couldn’t handle sitting next to you any longer. “I, uh- I’ll get the couch ready for tonight,” she said quickly, moving toward the closet. You frowned. “The couch? You’re not coming to bed?” Ellie paused, looking over her shoulder, clearly flustered. “I just thought… maybe I’d sleep there instead.”

That didn’t sit right with you. Sleepovers had always been the same, you’d sleep together, limbs tangled in the small bed. The thought of sleeping apart felt wrong, but you didn’t argue. Not with things already feeling this weird. You crawled deeper into the bed while Ellie busied herself with blankets, but neither of you seemed able to sleep. The room was too quiet, too still, and you found yourself lying on your side, facing her direction.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence.

“Ellie?” You heard her groan, and then she shifted, turning over to face you. Even in the darkness, you could sense her eyes on you, wide and uncertain. “What?” she asked, her voice strained. You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. This had been eating at you all night, maybe for longer than that. “What’s going on?” Ellie didn’t respond right away, and you could practically hear the gears turning in her head. Finally, after what felt like forever, she sighed.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The answer didn’t surprise you. It didn’t make things easier either. You bit your lip, unsure of how to put into words what had been slowly building between you two for weeks, maybe months.

“You’ve been acting… weird tonight,” you said, feeling vulnerable. “Is it because of… the movie?” Ellie groaned again, this time louder, like she was frustrated. “No… yes… I don’t know!” She exhaled sharply. “That movie just… it got me thinking, okay?” Your pulse quickened. “Thinking about what?”

Silence filled the room again, thick with tension. Ellie seemed to be wrestling with something, and you held your breath, waiting for her to speak. When she did, her voice was soft and uncertain. “Us,” she whispered. “Are we… are we more than just friends?”

There it was. Out in the open. The question hung between you like a heavy weight. It was something you had never allowed yourself to think about, not really. But now, with Ellie lying there, so close yet so far, you couldn’t avoid it anymore. Your heart hammered in your chest as you sat up slightly, your voice shaking. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Ellie shifted on the couch, and suddenly, she was standing. She climbed into the bed beside you, moving slowly like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be there. Your breaths came out shallow as she lay down next to you, her face inches from yours, her expression unsure.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other, and you swore you could hear both your hearts racing in the silence. Then, finally, Ellie leaned in, her lips brushing yours tentatively, like she wasn’t sure this was real.

The kiss was soft, hesitant, but it sent a rush of warmth flooding through your veins. You kissed her back, your hands instinctively finding their way to her hair, pulling her closer. The dam had finally broken, months of tension spilling out in that one kiss.

Ellie’s hands slid to your waist, and she pulled you against her, deepening the kiss. It was soft but intense, the kind of kiss that left you breathless and wanting more. You didn’t know how long it lasted, time seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the feel of her lips, her hands, her warmth.

When you finally pulled back for air, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. “This is… weird, right?” Ellie whispered, a nervous laugh escaping her. You smiled, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Yeah,” you admitted, your own heart still racing. “But good weird.”

Ellie grinned, her hands still firmly on your waist, as though she was afraid to let go. “I don’t know what this is,” she said softly, “but… I like it.” You leaned in and kissed her again, the warmth of her smile still lingering on her lips. “Me too.” The rest of the night passed in a blur of soft kisses, whispered words, and gentle touches. Whatever you and Ellie had now, it was real, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to question it.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

[storiesforallfandoms]

jason doesn’t know ~ eddie munson;stranger things

word count: 3184

request?: no

description: jason doesn’t know that his girlfriend and eddie do it in his van every sunday

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral f receiving, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v), pet names (princess and sweetheart), cheating

based on this song

masterlist (one, two, three)

Dating the captain of the basketball team was great at first. Jason was a great boyfriend in the beginning. He would give you rides to and from school, he’d take you out every weekend, and in general he just seemed very sweet. Besides that, dating him also made you popular by association. You weren’t an outcast or anything before, but you weren’t popular either. So dating Jason definitely elevated your social status.

But, as time went on, things became less and less great. Your date weekends with Jason became less frequent until they stopped all together. The excuse was always that he was busy with basketball practice, but once practice ended he was still blowing you off. He’d still drive you to and from school, and you still ate lunch with him and the team, but you didn’t feel like his girlfriend anymore. You felt like an accessory.

You tried to talk to Jason, but he blew you off. He said a lot of stuff that you could barely remember, but you did remember running away from him in tears. You thought (or maybe hoped) that he would come after you and try to make everything right. But when you got outside the school without the sound of footsteps running behind you or Jason’s voice calling your name, you figured he wasn’t that concerned about the fact that he had hurt your feelings.

That’s when you met Eddie for the first time. Well, when you properly met Eddie. You had seen the metal head in school before, especially interacting with Jason. You had never spoken to Eddie, and you had no issue with him like Jason did. Not that you’d ever tell Jason or his friends that.

You were sat on the stairs crying into your hands when you heard him ask, “Are you okay?”

You jumped, unaware that anyone else was around. You turned to see Eddie leaning against the brick wall of the school. You noticed what he had in his hand. “You’ll get in trouble for having weed on school grounds.”

“Are you going to rat on me, princess?”

The name took you back. He said it sarcastically, but there was something about him calling you that that turned you on a little.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Eddie asked, coming closer to lean against the railing that separated you both.

“Fuck if I know,” you said. You waved towards the door behind you. “He might be in there, or he might’ve left. Don’t know, and right now I don’t care. I’m sure he doesn’t care where I am either.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

You scoffed. “Some fucking paradise.”

He didn’t push the matter. Not like you were expecting him to. You didn’t even know each other. You also weren’t expecting him to ask, “Did you need a ride home? Since your douchebag boyfriend ditched you and all.”

You weren’t about to turn down that offer. You kind of couldn’t turn it down really. Your only other option would be to walk home, and you weren’t going to do that if you had someone offering you to give you a ride. So, you followed Eddie to his van. At some point you found yourself opening up to Eddie about your issues with Jason. He didn’t poke or prod for an explanation, but your emotions were bottled up for so long that you just needed to get them out. And Eddie just listened. He didn’t let his personal bias towards Jason get in the way.

And then you were kissing Eddie. You weren’t sure if it was because he was actually paying attention to you, or because you were so frustrated that you just needed to do something. Or maybe it was both of those things, plus the fact that Eddie was extremely attractive. Either way, you were kissing him.

And then you were in the back of his van, underneath him.

You were going to break up with Jason. You were still mad at him anyways, but you knew you had to break up with him after cheating on him. You didn’t expect anything else to happen with Eddie (although you wouldn’t be mad if anything did happen), but you knew it wouldn’t be right to continue your relationship after cheating.

That was the plan anyways. Until Jason showed up at your house the next day with flowers as an apology. He drove you to school, he showered you with all the love and affection that you had been missing the last month. You were so taken with everything Jason was doing that you were foolish enough to think things were actually changing. You had completely forgotten about your time with Eddie, until he came sauntering up to your locker between classes.

Your eyes widened as you looked around to make sure that Jason or his friends weren’t around. “Go away. I can’t be seen with you.”

“So I heard,” Eddie said. “You’re all lovey dovey with your prince charming again. Does he knew you were screaming my name yesterday?”

Your thighs clenched together at the memories from the day before. You shook your head and backed away from Eddie. “It was a mistake. I was angry, and it was unfair of me to use you to blow off steam. I’m sorry, but we can’t do it again Eddie.”

Eddie gave you a look, and then, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

As he was walking away, someone threw an arm over your shoulder. You jumped and looked up at Jason, who was scowling at Eddie’s back. “What did the freak want?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just asked about one of our classes.”

Eddie was right, though. There was a next time.

It didn’t take long for Jason’s affection to wither away again. And, once again, when you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed you off. You hoped that things would go as they had last time, with Jason apologizing and realizing his wrongs. But the next day, you were left waiting on your front steps for Jason to arrive. By the time you realized he wasn’t coming and you’d have to walk, you were already quite late for class. You were nearly in tears from embarrassment when a familiar van pulled up beside you.

“Get in, sweetheart.”

You didn’t make it to class that day. Instead, Eddie parked his van and you fucked until you knew no other feeling than his cock nestled inside of you.

There was no explanation for why you didn’t break up with Jason. You didn’t love him anymore, and he certainly had no feelings for you. At some point, you figured it was just for show. You’d hold hands in the hallway, you’d cheer for him at his games, you kissed in the lunchroom. But there was no love between the two of you. Instead, your heart belonged to the curly haired metal head that took you far away in his van and made you feel so good with every touch.

One Sunday afternoon, you were home alone when you heard a horn honk outside. You peered through the living room blinds to see the brown and cream van that had become your favorite place to be. Eddie was stood outside, leaning up against it with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled and quickly rushed out the door.

“I’m home alone today,” you told him. “You can come in instead if you’d prefer.”

“I like going in my van,” he said. “It’s like our own little paradise.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Eddie drove you both to your usual spot; a dirt path surrounded by trees tat no one besides stoners ever went down. The second the engine shut off, your face was in Eddie’s hands and he was kissing you so passionately that you became lightheaded. You undid your seatbelt and moved to straddle him without breaking the kiss. His hands moved to your waist, holding you. You ran your hands through his hair, gently tugging it like you knew would drive him crazy.

“Let’s get in the back,” he suggested.

You didn’t have to be asked twice. You quickly got off his lap and moved to the back of the van while Eddie was still unbuckling his seatbelt. You were already taking your shirt off when Eddie finally joined you. You were about to take your bra off, but Eddie grabbed your hands to stop you. “You know that’s my favorite part.”

He guided you to lay down on the pillows and blankets he had added to the van shortly after you two had started hooking up. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before moving to attack your neck with kisses. He was careful not to leave marks that would be visible, but the moment he reached your breasts, he bit and sucked as he pleased. He reached under you to pop your bra clasp open. He pulled it off and tossed it into the front, then took your nipple in his mouth while he kneaded your other breast in his hand. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue running over the sensitive nub.

After leaving your chest marked, he continued to move down your body. As he kissed over your stomach, he pulled at the waistband of your pants. You lifted up so he could pull them and your panties off in one go. He started kissing you painfully slowly over your mound, then over both of your inner thighs. You were trembling with anticipation, and a whimper involuntarily slipped from your lips.

Eddie chuckled. “Is there an issue, sweetheart?”

“P-Please, Eddie,” you whimpered. “I-I need to feel you.”

“Well, how do I say no when you ask so nicely?”

You gasped as he licked a long stripe up your clit. Your fingers gripped his hair as he began to eat you out like he was a starving man and you were his first meal in days. His fingers dug into your thigs, leaving creasant shaped marks in the soft skin. You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure. Eddie knew how to make you feel so good in ways that no other guy had ever made you feel. Actually, he was the first guy to go down on you in general. You didn’t know how good it would feel until his mouth was on you the first time.

Your mind went completely blank. All you knew was the feeling of hot pleasure coursing through out body. Your head was thrown back on the pillow beneath you as you moan into the small space. It was one of many reasons you loved Eddie’s van: you didn’t have to worry about being quiet. You could tell him just how good he was making you feel in whatever volume you wanted. And right now, he was making you feel so good that you felt like you were going to float right to cloud nine at any second.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge when Eddie suddenly pulled away from you. You let out a noise that could only be classified as a whine as you looked up at him. He was grinning down at you with that stupid teasing grin that you loved so much.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said. “I want to feel you on my cock when you cum.”

He leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth. He was pressing himself against you, his still clothed hard on rubbing against your sensitive core.

“This seems unfair,” you told him, tugging at his shirt. “I’m all naked and you’re still fully clothed.”

“When have I ever been fair?” he asked. But he pulled away from you to pull his shirt off. You admired his tattoos as he started with the belt on his jeans. He noticed you looking and smirked. “Like what you see?”

“You say that every time,” you teased. “And the answer is always yes. I love your tattoos.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. He had managed to get out of his jeans without you noticing, and now you were both completely naked, flush against one another. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs. You reached between the two of you and wrapped your hand around the base. Eddie moaned as you pumped his cock a few times. You were already so wet from him going down on you that when you pressed the tip against your entrance, he was able to push into you without problem. You both moaned as he slowly pushed into you, filling you completely.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against your lips. “Fuck, I could stay like this forever.”

“Please Eddie, m-move,” you begged.

“Ask me once more with those pretty words, sweetheart.”

“Please! Please, I need you so bad.” You’d be embarrassed with how desperate you sounded if you weren’t already on the edge of an orgasm again just from the feeling of him inside of you.

He kissed the tip of your nose and did as you asked. It was slow at first, pulling all the way out at a painfully slow pace until just the tip was inside of you, and then thrusting inwards just as slow until he was buried inside of you again. his pelvic bone brushed against your clit in a way that was driving you crazy. Eddie lowered his head to your neck and began to kiss every inch of skin that he could reach again. The warm pleasurable feeling returned, running through your entire body from your head to the tips of your toes. Your nails were digging into his back, but you knew he was going to wear those scratch marks with pride. The last time you had marked him, he went to school in a tank top the next day just so everyone could see.

A string of expletives fell from your mouth as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Eddie was whispering words of praise and encouragement in your ear, and it was enough to finally tip you over. You cried out his name as you tensed around him. He groaned into the crook of your neck at how good you felt. Your head was so foggy with lust that you almost didn’t register when his thrusts started to pick up speed, and then when they became a little sloppier.

“Can I cum inside?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Eddie, please cum in me.”

He pressed a kiss hard against your lips as his hips stilled, spilling himself inside of you. Your chest heaved with every labored breath you took. Your bodies were stuck together with sweat that you hadn’t even noticed was collecting on you till that moment. When Eddie pulled away from the kiss, his lips were swollen. His hair was a mess, and he was also quite sweaty, but he still looked like the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

When he smiled, it made your heart flutter.

You almost wanted to mirror the words he said earlier about staying that way forever, but Eddie eventually pulled himself from you as he started to go soft. He reached into the front of the van where he kept towels for your rendezvouses. He placed one under your hips as you felt his load starting to slip out of you. Once he had himself wiped down, he reached into the front again to roll down both windows. Immediately, the feeling of cool fresh air filled the van.

Eddie laid down next to you so that your shoulders were touching. This was always the weird part. You never cuddled after having sex, but you really wanted to. But that wasn’t what you two were doing, right? This was just hooking up. He wasn’t your boyfriend. But you wished he was.

Eddie nudged you with his elbow and you looked over at him. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing,” you said.

He gave you a look. “It’s not nothing. You get this look on your face when you’re deep in thought. What’s up?”

You were touched that he had noticed something so simple. In all the time you had been dating Jason, he had yet to pick up on any of your cues.

“What would you do if I broke up with Jason?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “That depends. What would you want me to do?”

“No, that’s not fair. I want to know what you would want. I’m already sneaking around with you behind my boyfriend’s back, it’s not fair if we’re doing all of this my way.”

He smiled. “Well, for the record, I’m not mad that we sneak around behind Jason’s back. It’s actually kind of nice to just have these moments to ourselves.”

He ran the knuckle of his index finger over your arm, causing you to shiver at the feeling.

“But, if you did break up with Jason, I would be first in line to ask you out on a real date.”

“There would be no line,” you told him. “Because you’d be the one I’d pick anyways.”

Eddie’s smile was the brightest thing you had ever seen. And it was contagious, because you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I feel stupid that I haven’t done it already,” you told him. “I don’t know, I think it’s just the image of being the captain’s girlfriend that stops me, but even that isn’t fun anymore. What’s the point of holding an image if you’re not happy?”

“There is no point. But, I wouldn’t push you to break up with him if you don’t want to. I get it if you’re not ready to plunge into loser territory by dating me.”

You rolled onto your stomach to look at him. “That’s not it at all. I don’t care what your social standing is. I just care about you. I want to be with you.”

“You just have to figure out how to not be with Jason anymore.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I thought it was going to be that hard, but now I’m thinking I’d be doing him a favor if we broke up. He’s quite literally had his eyes on Chrissy Cunningham for weeks now. I don’t know what his problem is that he won’t end the relationship first and just get with her.”

“I can’t blame him there. Chrissy is hot.”

You swatted his arm. “Fuck you!”

“You already did, princess.”

He took you by surprise as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to him. When he kissed you this time, it wasn’t just a kiss of lustful passion. It was gentle and sweet, and then he settled you against his chest with his arm around your shoulder.

And that’s when you knew that things with Jason would be over the next time you saw him. Because you could get used to being happy with Eddie.

[bigwishes]

Matching the Inside

"did I ask about side effects?" "no, but I still think you should hear me out"

Aden sat down to get on Nick's level.

"Listen here lil guy, you are the geeky smart guy, I'm the big guy, I asked you to whip me up something to make me the biggest guy and you said you could, now could you or are you fucking stupid and small?"

"Aden I understand but I still think you want to hear about th-"

"DONT CARE! JUST HAND IT OVER"

Nick sighed and handed over the small vial of green fluid over to Aden.

"Is this all?" Aden grunted.

Aden quickly downed the entire vial and flexed his muscles

"So when does this shit make me bigger?"

"s-soon Aden, just gotta wait a few ho-"

"WOULD YOU JUST FUCK OFF PIPSQUEAK!, if this shit fails I swear to god I'll be the fuck outta you then get my cash back"

Nick quickly left Aden to his own devices, he wasn't the best guy to get along with at the best of times and he didn't want to see how toxic Aden was going to become after an hour or so, but it was on him for not wanting to listen to the warnings...

-----

An hour of hard work had gone by and Aden had barely felt anything, sure he had a nasty pump and his skin felt like it was stretching by the second but nothing more than an unusually good day at the gym, however he did find one thing strange.

Aden was no stranger to sweat, but not normally this much, he was used to seeing his ass imprint when he stood up from the bench but not feeling it running down his body, not feeling it squelch in his shoes as he walked.

One of the gym attendants even asked him to please change his shoes as it was leaving huge sweaty imprints as he walked.

Aden sat down on a bench to catch his breath when he smelt something unbearable, it had to be a gym towel that had fallen behind a piece of equipment and left to reek for god knows how long. As Aden looked around for the source he couldn't find anything but when he lifted his arm he was hit by a wave of warm air that made him turn his nose up

the potent order was coming from him, and boy did he fucking reek.

Aden almost gagged on the stench of his own pits and stood up to grab his stuff to head home.

As he stood up his stomach let out a loud gurgling noise. It set in again, this time stronger and painful. Aden grabbed his stomach with both his hands and moaned and his gut continued to complain.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPP

Aden let out a loud belch that rung out through the entire gym.

"wow, eat too much before the gym big guy haha"

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

Aden couldn't control it, before he could even respond he had let rip and belched in the guys face.

Multiple people started to call him a gross pig, and he was in too much discomfort to argue, he could barely get a word in before he burped or belched like a stupid brute.

On his way out he stopped at the mirror, his shoulders looked wider, his biceps fuller, his pecs were stretching out his tank like it was nothing, he couldn't help but admire himself, but the admiration quickly faded when his body automatically cocked open his jaw and forcefully rumbled out another masculine belch.

---

Aden had raced home, doing his best to deal with the horrible stench flowing from his body he imminently got in the shower, scrubbing himself for over and hour until there was no trace of BO left on him,

getting out of the shower he constantly sniffed his pits to make sure he smelt clean and fresh, the stench had seemed to vanish and the odd bloating all but gone, now it was time to see if the formula did anything or if he was going to crush Nick's spine with his own hands.

Aden slipped on his favourite pair of underwear and stood in front of his mirror, to his surprise he did actually look bigger, although barely, he had maybe gained a pound or two of muscle, but something looked wrong....

As Aden glanced down his incredible body he noticed his underwear was much flatter than usual, he tried to adjust himself but it felt like there was barely anything to adjust. As he pulled back the waist band he was horrified to see that his incredibly 10inch manhood and shrunken down into a pitiful 3 inches

"w-WHAT THE FUCK" Aden began to panic, his heart racing

Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead and run down his face. As Aden paced around his room he didnt notice all the sweat forming all over his body, that was until the smell set in, when he finally saw himself in the mirror again he was slick from head to toe, droplets of sweat running down him and he stuck, a stench like he had just spent a month working out non stop.

His gut began to grumble once more as the pain set it, this time more intense, like his stomach was being inflated from the inside. Aden moaned and gritted his teeth in pain.

"w..w...what is...happening..tOO MEEE AAGGGHHHUUUUUUU"

Aden watched as his abs turned red and began to expand outwards.

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP

Aden couldn't help but belch, but it granted him no relief, he watched helplessly as his reflection expanded and grew, sweat dripping off him flooding his floor with a pool of musk and belches escaping him every time he opened his mouth to moan or complain.

-----

A week had gone by since Aden's strange and powerful growth but a lot had changed since then.

In a week he had been banned from almost every gym in town, banned from every restaurant, his car seats had changed colour from the sweat along with every piece of fabric or furniture he owned, on top of which most had broken in some way shape or form.

He couldn't even go to any out door cafe's as he was asked to leave because his terrible BO and constant belches upset the other customers.

Aden had all but ruined his life for muscle and size, still he couldnt help but feel mostly joy when he looked in the mirror, the way his shoulders and traps swallowed his neck, how he couldn't see past his pecs. How only after a week his powerful muscled feet would tear through his shoes. He loved being huge, but he didn't love the side effects.

The belching and stench he had gotten used to but the biggest shock to his system was the hardon he got for guys now, he used to be such a ladies man but now he felt nothing towards women and almost instantly came whenever he saw another bodybuilder flex, but even that he was willing to embrace so long as he could stay this big.

Aden stood in front of his mirror and watched as grey tank slowly turn black as it soaked up his sweat. He picked up a blender from the belch filled with his freshly made shake, he began to guzzle it down like he hadn't eaten in days, the shake spilled out from the sides of his lips, dripped through his beard and onto his tank were it quickly formed prominent stains and marks.

Aden dropped the blender panting for air.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP

His eyes glazed over as he looked at the sweating monster in the mirror. He couldn't help but notice the freak he had become,

grown too big, stretch marks all over his body, sweat and protein staining his clothes, BO so bad he could see it, and one hand pressed on his abs trying to force out another belch.

He finally matched what was on the inside

A total fuckin slob

[solxamber]

Hii!! I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/ take your time in making this request lolll (this is romantic btw)

Pomefiore with a reader who's shut in/wallflower painter, like yeah— they can talk to people but they're too shy to actually approach someone (no one probably remembers their existence /j).. so they resort to this:

If they like someone, they'd paint them as a form of expression! If they paint someone endlessly, then that probably means they really like that specific person. And then suddenly, out of the blue— they just randomly have a big fat crush on this one person, like they were so blown away by how handsome he was, so they just started to paint them.. and then they got caught! (They're probably quaking because their crush might think it's weird for some random stranger to paint you!)

Hope you can understand my vision ☹️☹️

Pomefiore x Artist!Admirer!Reader

i see your vision and it's beautiful 🫡 i hope you like this <3

Vil Schoenheit:

You’ve always admired Vil from a distance, both intimidated and captivated by his beauty. Approaching him? Absolutely out of the question. You weren’t the type to strike up a conversation with someone so effortlessly elegant, so you resorted to your old fallback: painting.

You were finishing the delicate details of Vil’s eyes—those eyes, the ones that seemed to look straight through you even from the canvas—when you heard a voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You flatter me.”

Your brush froze mid-stroke. That voice was unmistakable, but there was no way… You slowly turned your head and nearly fell off your stool.

There, standing in your studio with an amused smile on his perfect face, was Vil himself.

“I… I…” Words failed you, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. You could feel your face heating up as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the multiple portraits of him. His lips curved into a smirk.

“I didn’t realize I had such a devoted admirer,” he remarked, his tone teasing but with a hint of something more—something warmer.

You scrambled to explain, feeling as though you’d been caught doing something terribly wrong. “It’s not—I wasn’t—” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just… I really admire you, and painting is how I express that. I didn’t mean for it to be weird.”

Vil chuckled softly, stepping closer to inspect one of your paintings. “It’s not weird,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a gentler tone than you had expected. His eyes flicked over the details of the painting, and he smiled softly. “It’s quite beautiful, actually. You’ve captured me well.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Vil Schoenheit complimenting your work? You suddenly felt breathless, overwhelmed by the proximity of him and the unexpected praise.

“You think so?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Vil’s eyes met yours, and he nodded. “Yes. But,” he added with a knowing smile, “beauty isn’t just about perfection. Don’t be afraid to explore the imperfections. They make things more… real.”

You blinked, completely mesmerized by the intensity in his gaze. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world. Vil reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and your breath hitched.

“Keep painting,” he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging. “You have a gift.”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent response. As Vil turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he saw more in you than you had ever realized. And that thought left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

Rook Hunt:

You had always thought Rook was like a walking masterpiece. Everything about him—the way he carried himself, the way he smiled, the way he moved—was simply captivating. Naturally, he became your muse.

You never thought you’d be caught, though. You had carefully set up your little studio in a secluded corner where no one usually ventured. But somehow, Rook had found you.

You were in the middle of adding the finishing touches to yet another portrait of him when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, you heard a soft laugh.

“Ah, mon cher, what a delightful surprise.”

You jumped, your brush clattering to the floor as you whipped around to see Rook standing there, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Your heart sank. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen all the paintings?

Your face flushed as you tried to find an excuse. “I-It’s not what it looks like!” you blurted out, but even you didn’t believe that.

Rook smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he approached one of your canvases. “Oh, but it is,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “And I must say, I’m quite flattered.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood in front of one of your larger portraits of him, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the frame. He turned to look at you, his expression softening. “You see me,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “I… I mean, I paint what I see,” you stammered, feeling utterly exposed.

Rook chuckled softly and took another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin so that you were forced to meet his gaze. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart race.

“And what you see,” he whispered, “is beautiful.”

Your breath hitched. He was close now—so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the connection between you and Rook, as if he had stepped out of the canvas and into your heart.

“I…” you started, but your voice faltered. What could you even say? That you had been painting him because you were hopelessly enamored with him? That every brushstroke was an attempt to understand the feelings you didn’t quite know how to express?

Rook smiled softly, his hand still resting under your chin. “You need not say anything,” he murmured. “I already understand.”

Before you could react, Rook pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your skin. Your heart practically exploded in your chest, and when he pulled back, you were left staring at him in a daze.

“I look forward to seeing what else you create,” Rook said with a wink, before turning on his heel and exiting your studio, leaving you standing there, utterly flustered and hopelessly in love.

Epel Felmier:

You didn’t mean to develop feelings for Epel. Honestly, it just… happened. One minute, you were admiring how strong and determined he was, and the next, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. So naturally, you started painting him.

You had thought you were safe, tucked away in your quiet little studio, but apparently, Epel had other plans.

You were lost in your work, painting Epel in one of his rare moments of quiet—capturing the way his lilac eyes softened when he wasn’t putting on his usual tough act—when you heard his voice.

“Hey, is that me?”

Your heart nearly stopped. You spun around so fast you almost knocked over your easel. Epel was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed at the canvas.

“W-what are you doing here?!” you stammered, trying to shield the painting from his view, but it was far too late.

Epel frowned, stepping closer to get a better look at your work. “Huh. You’ve been paintin’ me?”

You were utterly mortified. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—I just…” You trailed off, completely at a loss for words.

To your surprise, Epel didn’t look angry. Instead, his frown softened into something more thoughtful. “You really think I’m worth paintin’?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You blinked at him. “Of course I do,” you said softly. “You’re… you’re really handsome, Epel. And I wanted to capture that.”

Epel’s face turned pink, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I ain’t never had anyone say that to me before,” he mumbled. “I guess I’m flattered.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and you smiled shyly. “I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence as Epel glanced at the painting again. “Y’know,” he said, his voice a little gruffer now, “you really did a good job. I actually look strong in this one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “That’s because you are strong, Epel.”

Epel’s blush deepened, and he muttered something under his breath. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he looked up at you and smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Maybe you could show me how to paint sometime.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

[barleyo]

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of. 

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon. 

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood. 

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them. 

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in." 

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life. 

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature. 

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look. 

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside. 

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness. 

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special. 

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements. 

What was wrong with you? 

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend. 

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw. 

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here. 

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure. 

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs. 

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty." 

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit. 

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you." 

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up. 

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego. 

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered. 

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights. 

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you. 

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long. 

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

[risuola]

II — JUST HUSH // Morning after the adventure with the dangerous stranger went just like you suspected - horribly, but that wasn't the worst that was waiting for you.

contents: angst, mafia!au, violence, few suggestive parts, insults, somewhat of an obsessive behaviors, reader discretion is advised — 4,3k words

a/n: officialy, this fic became a series - I wasn't expecting it to be so loved by you, readers and I can't thank you enough for the support to this story. also, there is a suggestion in my ask!box that I took a lot of inspiration for this chapter, so whoever gave the idea, thank you ❤️

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Being soft was a trait that Sukuna never actively credited himself with. He never had any urge to do so, never needed to explore that side of him and in his profession, that would most likely lead to a certain death. Leading people of mafia required him to be harsh and rough, there was no time and place for any kindness and gentleness and honestly, if anybody asked him about it just yesterday, he would say with certainty that the softness in him died long time ago. Even with women, he was never exactly sensual – he’s rather the type to take what he needs, devour what he’s hungry for and leave. Aftercare wasn’t his strong suit, for some reason inside his mind taking care of someone made him weak. That was before you.

You met not even a day ago, you asked for his help and once you got his attention, he knew he was fucked. You were just so gorgeous, so innocent and the way your glossed with tears eyes looked into his, he felt the strangest warmth inside his chest – a need of protection? Something so foreign and absurd that wouldn’t usually cross his mind. But then, he had you in his house, he had you on top of him and he had you hungry. You were smart, surely you noticed the gun pinned to his belt, he wasn’t exactly discreet about it and yet, you chose to stay with him for the night. It had to be some kind of sinister plan of yours, Sukuna wondered.

Were you put in his way to sabotage him?

He had no idea, but once the day was bright and now close to evening, you were still sleeping in his bed, with your head resting atop of his chest and one of your legs thrown over his own. You were breathing slowly and peacefully, so blissfully unaware of how dangerous it is for you to be in the same house with him, not to mention lay tangled with him below the sheets. As he smoothed over your bare shoulder with his fingers, he was thinking about how the night went. The sex was great, the best he had in years. You were playing along with him, you wanted him as much as he wanted you and as you playfully fought for dominance with him, he could have sworn it was the sexiest thing he’s ever experienced. The way you tugged his hair, pushing him nose deep into your dripping core and keeping him there until he made you cum almost made him cum as well, just from the slight dominance you had on him. Even though he allowed this to happen. He could still recall the delicious sting of your nails scratching red marks onto his back and shoulders. Every time his name slipped over your tongue, his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Just like that, you’ve got him hooked, but even so, he should have kept his word. He should have made you get dressed, maybe, out of curtesy, allow you to take a shower so that his seed wouldn’t run down your legs and mess up the leather in his car. He should have driven you home as soon as he was finished with you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you wrapped yourself around him, exhausted and already half-asleep, searching for the warmth of his body. Not when your weight on top of him felt like it was meant to lay there and especially not when your lips pressed few lazy kisses to the side of his neck before you dozed off.

You moved, rolling away from him and onto your back. You were waking up, he could tell by the sound of your quiet hums and the way your breath pattern changed from slow and calm to deep and more present. Sukuna flipped to his side, taking in the beauty of your features, now illuminated with the daylight. Your makeup kept up pretty well and even the smudged edges couldn’t take away your loveliness.

You hummed a little louder, groggily reaching up with your hands and arching your back like a cat in a long, sharp stretch. The covers slipped off your chest, exposing the pink of your nipples that now matched the many marks he had sucked onto your flesh just hours ago. Then your body relaxed, once again falling onto the mattress and a smile stretched your lips when Ryomen put his fingers against your skin. He brushed it ever so lightly along the shapes of your form, running along your collar bones, circling around the nipples and then, moving it down up and down your sternum.

“Good morning,” you purred against his lips when he reached to kiss you.

“More like good evening,” he replied, his voice quiet and calm as he moved his hand to the side of your body and pulled you flush against his chest. You hooked your leg onto his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers into his hair.

“That late, huh?”

“That late.”

It was dangerous. The way you looked into his eyes, the relaxed stance your body, oblivious to the fact you were in the embrace of death personified – it was all too dangerous for Sukuna. It was too warm, too lovely, too innocent. He hated the vulnerability you subjected him to and the fact his head was filled with wishes to protect you? Fuck, it was bad. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t what he stood for in his life, it was against all of his morals. He had always been a man of few emotions, always cold and never letting anything or anyone get to him. He was calculating, feared by many and respected by few. He had risen through the ranks of the underworld by means that were often brutal and always efficient. Never, not once, he had let emotions to cloud his judgement or stand in the way of his goals. But then, you happened.

“The night…” You murmured softly, brushing the tip of your nose against his own. “I enjoyed it very much, ‘kuna—” And the nickname?!

“That’s enough,” he groaned, his tone coming in sharp and cold and it immediately brought you back to your senses. The wishful daze of bliss vanished in an instant, suddenly the tension came back to your shoulders. It was too much for Sukuna, he wanted to have a nice fuck that night and he already made a mistake by letting you stay in his bed when he was done with you. It was dangerous for you, it was dangerous for him and honestly, that lovey-dovey shit has never been his brand anyway. “Time for you to go.”

“What happened? You were so delicate just a moment ago—”

“Spare me the dumb romantic shit. I just wanted to fuck you, don’t get ahead of yourself and if you wish to keep that pretty head of yours then better get fucking going. I’ll have a driver take you back home.” He shut you down roughly and from that point, it all went quickly. You were gone in just few moments. You were gone, but the man felt no relief.

…

Few days passed by. Or was it weeks? Sukuna couldn’t tell as days began blurring their edges and all he could focus on was you. He couldn’t rid himself of the memory of you rushing in fear, just barely clothed as if he was about to hunt you down and shot you in the head if you didn’t leave his space. As if the one minute longer would cost you your life. Every time he closed his eyes or got into his bed he could see the picture of your face, the display of hurt and fright that stained the beautiful innocence in the moment he had told you to leave, discarding you as if you were a toy that he used and got bored of.

What was this feeling? He was asking himself every time he had watched you from afar. Was it guilt? He couldn’t tell, it felt foreign. For Ryomen it was an everyday thing to scare someone off, the blood of his enemies is what he’s ravishing in but you… You were far from being his enemy. And so he found himself more and more often observing you, each time being in the same place as you by accident. You made him fascinated, you made him fall into your trap. He found himself drawn to you, drawn to the light that you brought with you. He was missing you. Was that your plan all along? A revenge for how he had treated you that one night?

Your heart was pure, almost too pure for this world, Sukuna thought to himself every time he had a chance to see your everyday life. A waitress, serving tables in a small, local café, wearing the smile that he could tell was fake, and yet it charmed everyone and he couldn’t help but feel the odd sense of pride when he realized that the way your lips were curved the night you were together was utterly real. And then, he would see you on your days off, wearing cozy and comfy clothes, no makeup adorning your face as you were lost in the world of music in your headphones and whatever task you had in front of your face on the screen of your computer. You were too cute for your own good, with the little scrunch of your nose whenever you closed your tired eyes and the colorful stickers of cats and sunflowers that decorated the outside of your laptop. He’s seen you feeding some stray kittens with the salmon from your sandwich, petting their little heads as they were leaning into your touch and Sukuna would never imagine himself being jealous of the feline, but there he was, hidden behind the darkened windows in his car, wishing to be the one who’s head is in the warm and delicate embrace of your soft palm. Fleeting attraction, that’s what it had to be.

Sukuna had never thought of himself as a romantic, but there was something about you that did it for him. You were soft, gentle and vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect you, to shield you from the violent life he led. And yet, you were also strong, strong enough to face him, to challenge him and even make him laugh. It was a strange combination, and it made him feel things he had never felt before. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was thinking of you more and more often. He had to be careful, though. He could tell that you were innocent, that you didn’t understand the world he lived in. If he let himself get to close, he might put you in danger and the thought of that, he couldn’t bear. He had a responsibility to keep you safe, even if it meant pushing you away. And for the first time in his life, he was scared. Scared that if he plays this whole thing wrong, he might lose you, even if he never truly had you. He was scared you’ll find out who he really was and scared of what that would do to you. He knew you noticed his gun, you had to notice it, but did you really had any idea what that meant?

For you, the time after meeting the stranger in the club was everything but easy. The hurt subsided quite rapidly, your heart wasn’t stupid enough to grow attached to a man you’d known for just few hours and deep down you knew that what you started by asking him for help had to end up somewhat similar to what happened. He wasn’t a prince from the fairy tale and you were no princess, it wasn’t a story of love, it was just sex and with that, you came to terms quite quickly. It was the fright that you couldn’t shake off your shoulders. Sukuna was a man that was keeping a gun attached to his belt, he had to be a gangster or something along these lines and considering the big, rounded and scared eyes of everyone in his proximity you’d only assume that his position in the world was at least threatening. It stayed in the back of your mind that he might have come for you, to hurt you or worse. He had shown you where he lives, after all, wasn’t that enough of a reason to erase someone from the world?

But nothing bad happened as your life went by, somehow it seemed as if it was even going smoother than it used to. The one very stubborn client, one that used to harass you every time he had a chance suddenly stopped showing in the café you work in; you even got a little raise from your boss, what despite being a bonus that you really needed, was also the most suspicious thing that happened to you lately. Your boss never gave raises. Life was good, until—

…

—you opened your eyes feeling pain. At first, you couldn’t tell what happened to you. Where were you? How did you get here? And why was everything so white?

Breathe in and out. Why did breathing hurt? And what was that beeping?

“You’re awake,” a voice made you turn your head to the side. And then, at the sight of a familiar face, it all flashed back.

It was at night, you were heading home from the meeting with your co-workers. An absurd celebration of something that you were quite certain didn’t even concerned you or your interns, but your boss required you all to be present anyways. It was tiring, to stay in the café after nearly ten hours shift, but thankfully during the event you were sitting and not actively working, so at least it was that much. Your legs hurt nonetheless, you felt fatigued after the entire week of intense shifts intertwined with classes, so when you were suddenly yanked by the wrist to the back, it wasn’t much of a surprise to you that you lost your balance.

“What do we have here, eh?” One of the men spoke and as you looked up, two faces were glaring at you with disgusting sense of superiority. “Oi, Naoya, is that the bitch you were talking about?”

“Bet it is,” the second man snorted. “She fits the description.”

Naoya? The name rang a bell so roughly and suddenly that your eyes widened in fear. It was the man you met in the club, the one that was all over you the second he met you. The one that you escaped only thanks to asking another stranger for help. But now, you couldn’t see him. Who stood above you was a man with long, silver hair and a face covered in linear scars. He was wearing a face of psychotic content, a grin so unsettling that it froze the blood inside your veins and just by the look of him you could tell he was dangerous. And then, the second one stood right next to him – his hair was pitch black and eyes probably green-ish, with little scar on the side of his lip that made itself apparent the moment you looked at him. He was insanely well-built, in a shirt that looked like one of those compression, sport-related attires.

“What do you want from me…?” You asked, your voice uncharacteristically quiet, as if the fear made your vocal cords clench. And you felt it, an unsettling feeling of upcoming death and it led to a chain of regret of every choice that you made that led you to this place and time. You should’ve taken a taxi. Or go a different route.

“Oh, we’re here to teach you a lesson,” the white-haired one responded as the other grinned like the devil himself. And then, they moved to the sides a little and right in the middle appeared the man that you do recognize. Naoya Zenin himself, with his face twisted in some kind of sick satisfaction as he grabbed your hair and yanked you up from the ground. Your back hit the concrete wall and his near proximity made you instantly tensed.

“I got you,” he grinned and there was violence intertwined into the expression his face bore. “I finally fucking got you.”

“Just leave me alone…” You demanded, your voice much weaker that you’d like it to be, much less constructive, not confident at all. You were frightened, to say the least, there was no way you could protect yourself from one man, but three? “Please.” As you begged, your own death flashed before your eyes. There was no way in hell you’re gonna survive this, that had to be it. The night was dark enough to cover the crime that was happening and even if there would be any bravery in you still left, nobody would help you. No one would be dumb enough to stand against the group that was about to abuse you.

“Oh, the little bitch is scared, huh?” Naoya laughed right into your face, his tongue leaving a wet trace along your throat and it filled you with enough disgust to wince. “Where’s your protector now, eh? Where’s your big daddy Sukuna?”

“What’s your problem?” The question slipped through your tongue in nothing more than a whisper. You couldn’t believe that you’re going to die because you asked a random man for help and that random man turned out to be a gang member or something. “I don’t have anything to do with him, I—”

“Of course, you don’t. I’m sure he fucked you and threw you out like a trash you are,” Zenin spit nothing but venom as his eyes were piercing holes into your skull. You could feel his hand sneaking underneath the fabric of your hoodie and your attempts on pushing him away did nothing to stop him from squeezing one of your breasts. “I bet you’re a good fuckthing tho.”

“Get your hands off of me,” you warned, your voice now rougher but still, too quiet to pose any threat. You wanted to nail his eyes out, to rip his heart out of his chest, but none of that you were able to do. Naoya laughed, once again, sounding like an asshole he was as he stepped back.

“Undress.” It was an order that he threw at you. Him, along with the other two, circled you as if predators would circle their prey and you felt small below the weight of their eyes.

“No.”

The moment you denied, the sharp pain sent you to the ground. He hit you, one of them, right in the face, with the top of his hand. The harsh contact of his knuckles and your cheekbone snatched you off your feet.

“You heard the order. Behave, slut.” The dark haired one was speaking calmly, but there was a certain coldness in his tone. The nonchalance that froze your insides.

“No…” You whispered, desperate to keep your dignity intact before you die. Immediately they showed you why hoping for it was foolish, as the series of kicks enveloped you in the cage of pain and suffering. You hid your head inside your arms, a helpless try to protect it from the heavy boots that not once held back before making contact with your fragile frame. You remember the sound of their voices, the feeling of their fists connecting again and again with your body.

“So fucking stupid,” someone laughed at you and you were far from sure and way too scared to check it yourself, but you could have sworn that somebody spit at you. “Don’t you understand? Nobody will save you now, no one cares about a bitch like you. I’d say it last time. Undress.”

“N-no…”, you sniffled, hugging your head tightly as if bracing yourself for another salve of hurt. But it didn’t come, no hit was aimed at your curled on the ground body. Instead, you heard the pained whines from not too far away, you heard the sounds of a battle and was it the sound of bones being broken? You couldn’t tell, it felt surreal, was that it? Was that how you’re gonna die? Because surely no one in their right mind would step into action, risking being killed themselves for you.

“Hey, I’ll take you to the hospital,” that voice. You knew that. You heard it for such a short time in your life and yet you’d recognize it everywhere. The low, slightly husky tone that you remembered as one that was enough to turn you on just by the sound of it. Now it was accompanying the very gentle arms that scooped you off the floor. Then, you dared to open your eyes.

…

“Ryomen?” Your voice felt weak, your throat hoarse from the dryness but that didn’t stop you from speaking. The more information got into your brain, the easier it got to understand what was the place you woke up in.

A hospital. You woke up in the hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and machines. Your body bruised and battered, ached with each breath you tried to take. Your head was still foggy and your muscles stiff, you had a pounding headache that only got worse as the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You were lucky. So incredibly lucky to be alive. And yet again, Sukuna saved you. Then you probably passed out.

“You’re awake,” he sounded soft. How odd. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… why are you here?”

“I had to check if you’re alright. And also I’m gonna take you home, but needed to wait until you’re awake and doctors can give you the last checkup.” He explained it matter-of-factly and it only got you more confused than you were just a second ago.

“That… doesn’t exactly answer my question…?”

“It will do for now. I’ll bring the doctor.”

Sukuna left the room sooner than you had a chance to ask anything else. He felt as if the weight was taken off his shoulders the very second you opened your eyes and recognized him. The last hours were an agony, he stayed near your bed for the entire time and though there was nothing that was threatening your life anymore, he couldn’t help but feel so awfully guilty. The foreign feeling of it made him realize that he was fucked up good, you had poisoned him with emotions that he already forgot about, the useless display of something that he considered a weakness for the better of his life. As he was watching your fragile frame, though covered with white, clean sheets he felt the rage boiling inside his veins because he knew. He saw the damage on your body, the bruises that painted your soft skin in dark, purple-ish blotches, the patch of scratches on your side – in place where your naked hip met the ground. And your cheek… there still was a red spot on top of your cheekbone, the one Sukuna assumed was also a result of a hit and it angered him even more because if he has noticed it before, he would for sure kill those imitations of a men and not only leave them in a mush.

Sukuna felt a certain sense of responsibility due to what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault, per se, that when you were looking for help in that club when you first met him, you had the misfortune to pick a persona like him and frankly, if Sukuna would know back then that Naoya will come for you later to get his revenge, he would kill him right then and there. The more he thought about it, the more he was realizing that he would kill anyone if it was to keep you safe.

“Ready to go home?” Ryomen asked, assisting you in pulling your bruised arms through the sleeves of a hoodie he had brought you. A clean one, way too big on your frame but comfortable at that, lined with plush so that it won’t irritate your injured skin.

“I think so…?” Your reply was confused, it was unsure and still slightly underlined with fear. There was a reason to it, last time you saw the man that was now trying to help you, he threatened to rid you of your head. “Ryomen, I don’t understand—”

“Just hush,” he cut you, gently swooping you off the edge of the bed and you settled in the safety of his muscular arms, leaning your head against his shoulder, next to his neck. “I was told you still should rest so let me take you home. Alright? Alright.”

There was no point in arguing, you couldn’t do much whilst in his arms even if you tried and it was naïve, you thought, but there was a sense of protection tied tightly to the way he was keeping you close. You felt as if any danger couldn’t reach you when his hands were wrapped around you. He was dangerous, that much you knew, and yet there was a gentleness in a way he was holding you near his chest, near the place where his heart beats in a regular, calm rhythm. Fact is, you didn’t want to run away from him, though you should. And so, you leaned into him, nuzzling your head into the dip between his neck and shoulder and as you breathed in his scent, the musky note of his cologne and tobacco, you felt at ease.

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese

[diejager]

bro make a fanfic about the reader and the ghost/konig WHEN THE READER WAS SHOT IN THE BUN ON THE MISSION AHAHAHHHAH LMAO (in the military helicopter when they were supposed to return, the reader was holding her butt, moaning, writhing in pain and trying to hide the pain)

That is a funny thought…

Shots Cw: gun violence, bb shots, tell me if I missed any.

You yelped when you were hit is the ass, flinching forward and raising your arm just as you turned to glare at whoever landed the shot. Your right cheek exploded in soreness, tingling from the sharp pain of a BB shot.

“Hit!” You called it, letting your rifle hang from your shoulder as you rubbed your right cheek, grumbling about the bastard, “On my fucking ass of all places.”

You walk towards the respawn with your arm up, still cussing out whoever shot you in the ass. You had a hunch about the shooter: Soap, who else had enough courage to shoot you in the ass. You doubted Gaz did it, he might’ve been tempted, but he preferred other type of pranks, more mischievous ones like tampering with the washer or drinks, harmless but hilarious. Soap, however, rarely knew the limit, going as far as stealing and hiding your stuff, tapping you in the ass or messing up your head while he cackled away, speeding off to Ghost or Price to escape your wrath.

You reasoned that this was a staged scenario, a small group activity Laswell came up with that landed your Task Force somewhere in France for game of airsoft, a Free for all in the reserved location. No one had complained, thinking it a good activity mixing fun, training and awareness —everyone agreed to it enthusiastically once Ghost had voiced his grumpy acceptance, seeing this as a moment to be able to training without the prying eyes of others or the presence of strangers. Once you reached the spawn point, your jump back in to land a few shots at Soap to see whether or not he liked getting his ass bruised by a BB. You walked off determined, mind narrowed down to a single goal, your retaliation—

Until you yipped a second time, a pellet bouncing off your second cheek. You whipped around, yelling as your eyes scoured the tree line and the openings in the buildings behind you, the windows, the roof and behind pillars. You couldn’t find Soap anywhere, he wasn’t hiding behind the trees or in the buildings, but you did catch the glint of a scope —a familiar sniper scope.

“Ghost, you son of a bitch!” You screamed in outrage, feeling how both cheeks throbbed with pain. You bared your teeth, hissing at your Lieutenant who seemed smug and comfortable in his high perch on the roof of the building, “Why’d you do that?! I was already out!”

”Big target, luv,” his amused voice cracked in your comm, the low rumble of sadistic pleasure ringing out in your headgear. He cocked his scope, his white mask standing starkly in his dark gear and broad figure, “Impossible to miss. Quit moaning.”

“Big target? Are you-!” Huffing at his continued laughter, you glared his way before you turned to hurry back to the respawn, “Let’s see who’s laughing later, you ass.”

“Fuck- Hit!”

Your shoulders shook with restrained laughter, admiring the way Ghost jumped from your perch, hidden in the darkness given by the cement wall. You listened to him hiss and swear, massaging the place you aimed for: the pronounced curve of his ass, his jeans rarely doing him the pleasure of hiding what he had.

“Quit moaning, Ghost,” you cackled as you parroted his words, telling him the same thing as he told you, but you had more to add, more to taunt and tease him as revenge, “Couldn’t miss it, Lt, it was a big fucking target.”

You watched him stomp off, retreating to the tree line for his spawn point. It filled with a sense of elation and ugly smugness, and all that was left now, was to find Soap.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny’s yelp felt more exciting than Ghost, something you could devour over and ove without regret.

“Not so fun, is it, Johnny?” You smirked, replying with a gleeful tone.

He looked red-faced, the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red from the way you spoke to him, utilising his known weakness and playing him to watch him stutter and flush brightly.

“Awa’ a bile yer heid! That hurt, lass!” His voice had taken a whinier tone, face screwed in embarrassment and something that you couldn’t put your finger on at this distance.

“I know, shouldn’t have shot me in the ass then.”

Gaz tapped you on the shoulder, a smile threatening to break into chuckles. He’d known what happened to you and knew what you did in retaliation, finding amusement after siding with you, sitting beside you and peering at two frowning and mumbling men.

“Heard you had a lot of fun.”

“Not enough.”

You thought you heard Price sigh tiredly.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[enwoso]

PINK SKIES — alessia russo

this has been in the works for a few months, just didn’t know when or if i wanted to post it as it involved quite a sensitive topic, and a topic which should be addressed in a very mature way.

this is also a topic which i hold very dear to my heart and is quite personal to me, especially since i lost someone very special to me in a similar way but i just wanted to share this as a way to raise awareness especially with september being dedicated to suicide prevention month but just you know you are appreciated, you are worth it and that there are people out there who can help and support you. please, you are not alone.🤍

WARNING: mentions of death, allusions of sui**de and just upsetting themes! please do not read if any of these topics are sensitive to you.

"thought i'd find you here" lotte cooed as she stood with a sad smile, a few metres away from alessia whom was sat on the kerbside, only the streetlight to keep her company as the sky merged into a darker, gloomier colour.

alessia turned to look at the girl she'd known her entire life, before turning back to look at what was in her hands. a crumpled piece of paper with neat hand writing on it. a piece of paper which had not left her hands all day.

alessia didn't say anything instead her fingers just toyed with the piece of paper, tears falling down her cheeks. lotte made her way cautiously towards the blonde slotting down on the kerbside next to her, placing an arm around her. alessia’s head immediately landing on the girls shoulder.

it had been a long day. goodbyes are hard. especially last goodbyes, they sting the most and leave this feeling in your heart that never seems to go away.

"it's okay, less. she had a beautiful send off" lotte whispered as she let the blonde cry in her arms knowing that this had been building all day.

"i miss her lotte..." alessia choked out sniffles escaping her as tears streamed down her face and onto the piece of paper as she felt lotte nod pulling alessia closer to her.

"i know less and that's normal- but she wouldn't want you to be sat on the kerb crying" lotte sympathised as alessia nodded lightly. she knew you wouldn't want her to be sat on the kerb, heck she knew you would have wanted a big send off like the one that had been done for you.

but grief doesn't work in the way alessia imagined. its not a straight line, there's no formula to it. it's a mess.

some days the blonde feels as though your still beside her, joking about her tripping over thin air. but other days it hits alessia and she feels all those raw emotions all at once, again.

"i- i just wish she was here- she had so much still to live for.." alessia choked out once again, her words forming into one it barely being able to be understood but lotte did. she knew what alessia meant.

you and alessia hadn't known each other very long. you of course knew of each other but that was it. just shadows in the background of the others life.

it was an england camp which brought you together, one simple conversation and it changed alessia's life forever.

a silly conversation about different types of cookies and how your favourite was jammy dodgers as you would eat around the rim and then eat the jam center — alessia thought it was the funniest thing and was always in stitches watching you eat them that way.

but she was the type of person you just clicked with. no effort was needed. the type of friend you make and then don't remember how the first interaction went.

you just went from one day being total strangers to the next being the best of friends.

“and now you have to live for her, remember the good less.” lotte tried as alessia shook her head the peice of paper still clutching to her hand.

“no lotte, i just feel like i failed her. she was my best friend how could i have let this happen, i could have helped her, done something and maybe this wouldn’t have happened,, i could-“ alessia rambled out as lotte just the let the blonde do it her cheeks tears stained as her mascara had smudged under her eyes, the blonde moving her head from resting on lotte’s shoulder.

both lotte and alessia knew there was nothing that could have been done to help you. nobody could have even noticed that you were struggled never mind how bad your mental state was.

you had been estatic finding out that alessia was moving to london and more specifically to arsenal. it meant no more countdowns to when you’d next see each other, it meant you didn’t need to sit on a train for three hours again. it meant you could see each other any time you wanted.

alessia would forever remember the excitement in your voice when she picked up her phone.

"your actually coming to london!"

"yeah i am! we are gonna be in london together!”

"i can't wait to spend every day with you less"

"me neither y/n, me neither."

or how the two of you spent the next two hours on call with each other as you listed all the places you were going to show her, the local cafe where you went for your morning coffee before training, the park where you walked your mum’s dog — rocco every day, the restaurant you always went with your sister when she came to visit.

alessia eventually making the move to arsenal after a bittersweet summer in australia not being able to come away with the world cup win but neverless having an unforgettable summer spent by your best friends side.

both you and alessia's focus moving towards the start of the new season, while also fitting in all the places you wanted to show alessia in the weekends which you had off which came few and thin.

everything in alessia's eyes was perfect, she was living in london with her best friend, she was closer to her family and she was getting to play football with her best friends day in and out.

but for you it couldn't have been further from that.

after the world cup getting back into the next season was tough for you, going from match to match without a break was hard. some weeks you were playing ninety minutes, twice a week. you were getting pushed to your limits.

you mental health had begun to take a toll, social media trolls were getting to you, one miss kick in a match and you had a huge target on your back and were the victim of online abuse. you weren't the perfect angel who was seen as a hero if you scored a goal and could do no wrong in the team.

if you scored the response was why are you not doing it every game?

if you defended well the obvious response was that's the bare minimum, that's your job as a defender.

if the team conceded it was your fault.

if you got into the england squad the response was you had taken away from someone else who actually deserved it.

in the eyes of the public you could do no right.

but no one could see you were mentally and physically struggling, your teammates thought you had just learned to not care what the public said about you on social media or thought you hadn't seen it but in reality you had probably seen it long before they did.

in videos and in real life you never didn't have a smile on your face and one thing you never stopped doing was sitting with alessia and laughing about nothing.

but at home when you were alone, your mind ate away at you. letting yourself truly believe that what people were saying online was the person you were.

“i’m so stupid though i should have noticed the signs, how she wasn’t herself” alessia carried on her rant to lotte as lotte listened. that’s what alessia needed right now, is to let it all out as alessia continued.

“less, there was nothing you could do” lotte cooed, another sniffle coming from alessia as she kicked the stones underneath her feet.

a silence filled the gap, not an awkward one but the silence could definitely be felt. the slight wind that followed as the street grew darker, behind the building where the reception was happening with all your family and friends were.

“what’s that?” lotte questioned, pointing towards the piece of paper that she’d noticed alessia carrying all day. it never leaving the blondes hand during the entire service and reception afterwards.

alessia looked down at it, a sad smile on her face as she did. “a letter..” alessia paused, “y/n wrote before she um, you know.. died.”

a change in look come from lotte as her facial expression changed, it sunk a little deeper. lotte didn’t pry though she knew that whatever had been written in that letter was personal, it wasn’t her business to know. if alessia wanted her to know alessia would tell her off her own back.

“i found it in her room when i was going through her things in her apartment-“ alessia spoke, pausing to take a deep breath, her mind building the picture of her walking through your apartment for the last time. how strange it felt. how empty it felt.

alessia continued, “it was weird lotte, it was like she had never been there- the walls, the drawers.. they were bare, like she never even been there before.”

lotte nodded lightly as another small silence came over the two, a little flicker of the street light before the silence was broken.

“it’s funny really because i wish i could just sit and listen to her ramble on about nothing but we would still loose track of time” a small sad smile appeared on the blonde face as she recounted the memory, lotte sitting listening with a similar look as alessia carried on.

“-or the fact she would never let us get coffee from anywhere else but her local cafe where she’d get the same coffee each time — but she’d never have to ask cause the person behind the counter would always have it ready for her. i think that’s why she like to go there..” a little giggled came from alessia as she thought about the many times she tried to get you to go to a different coffee place but you’d point blank refuse.

“less i know it’s gonna be hard but y/n will always be cheering for you not only up there-“ lotte pointed to the dark star which was now filled with tiny white stars, “but in here too” lotte pointed to alessia’s heart as a small nod came from her, she knew lotte was right.

“and overall she’d want you to carry on playing and winning trophy after trophy. so even if you don’t think you can do it for yourself.. do it for y/n.” lotte told the blonde as another shaky breath came from alessia, tears threatening to fall once again.

“i wish i could play football with her again.” alessia shakily said as lotte pulled the blonde into a tight hug, running her hand up and down the blondes back as she comforted her.

“i wish tomorrow came”

you just about made it to the new year, which you spent with alessia and her family as she had insisted that you were not seeing the new year in alone, she wasn't going to allow that to happen.

that was probably the last time you actually truly smiled. just being surrounded by happiness and not having negativity seeping through your veins.

the loss against west ham, the online abuse pretty much tripled. you being blamed for a short pass which resulted in a second goal for west ham and the fans had deemed that you had then and there lost arsenal the chance of winning the league.

after that weekend you found yourself spending a lot more time alone which was not a good thing. your thoughts were spiralling, you began to question why were you actually here?

any team bonding sessions you then began not to turn up, each one declined with a different excuse.

any time alessia asked you to hang out it was always the same, 'feeling tired today less, maybe tomorrow yeah?"

alessia began to notice your change in behaviour but at first did put it down to you just being tired, your limits being pushed to the max. she knew that, heck she wasn't blind anyone could see it.

it wasn't until the first england camp of the new year when you pulled out because of injury did she begin to realise you weren't just tired or injured for that matter.

she called you and you had told her nothing but lies, that you had tweaked you knee in the last game however that was the first game in months that you didn't play a full ninety. so the blondes suspicions raised, and the blonde promised she would come and see you straight after the game at wembley tomorrow.

however tomorrow for you, never came.

[metalhoops]

Steve’s party trick was appearing sober long past the point of inebriation. 

It was an act he’d perfected through observation. He’d watched his mother down wine like water and waltz into a garden party looking sober as a saint. So when everything went down at the Starcourt Mall, with the drugs and the appearance of another burgeoning concussion-induced migraine fogging the edges of his vision, he’d pushed through with professional tact. 

Steve couldn’t explain how it happened. One moment he was sitting on the kitchen counter, cradling a bag of frozen peas to his bare face, freezer burn nipping at the edges of his consciousness, and the next he was sprawled out on the carpet of a stranger’s house. 

What happened in between, he’d never know. 

Maybe it was for the best. Ignorance was bliss, in Steve’s opinion. His life was so much easier before the Upside Down. He would’ve been a worse person and lived a worse life. Yet his life would’ve been close to normal, not the mercurial mess it’d become.  He wouldn’t have spent the night locked in a secret underground soviet bunker, his face doubling as a punching bag for a man he didn’t know, while monsters roamed about the town. 

The mall had burned down, Steve remembered. After all was said and done, Mrs Byers dropped him and Robin off at their respective homes. Steve insisted he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine and, more importantly, that his parents were home. When Robin sobered up, she’d realise Steve had lied.

He’d told Robin a lot of things, and after the night in the mall, so had she. She knew Steve’s parents had been out of town for months, but she’d been flying too high to use any of her admittedly brilliant brain to put two and two together. Steve loved Robin. He loved her differently after that night, but he still loved her. He was human. He needed time to lick his wounds and some space. The quiet of the Harrington house had seemed like a blessing, so where the hell was he now?

“Hey, what did you take?” A vaguely familiar voice shook Steve from his stupor. 

He rolled away from the sound, burying his face in the carpet. He cringed as a  spark of pain shot through the veiled numbness that’d inhabited his body since the Russian drugs had hijacked his system. 

“Ouch,” Steve grumbled miserably. 

His head throbbed. One eye was entirely swollen shut. Even if Steve was sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to place the boy through his hazy vision. All he could make out were colours, pale skin, dark hair, and darker clothes. 

“I know. I know. You’ve got a real shiner, Harrington. Come on, up,” the boy instructed. 

Steve felt cool skin graze against the nape of his neck, pulling him up into a sitting position. Steve remained boneless, not making the task easy. 

He felt separate from his body, not sure where he ended and the rest of the world began. Once pulled up, he kept falling forward, his face making contact with the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt. The boy was more comfortable than the floor, with less carpet burn and more smooth leather. He smelled of smoke, sweat and an earthy kind of cologne that hadn’t been refreshed in hours.

“Elevator up,” Steve chuckled, laughing too hard for his own good. 

His ribs ached. He felt a laugh shudder through the boy’s body as he pulled Steve back, trying to get a better look at him. He held a finger in front of Steve’s face. 

“Not sure what this is meant to do but I’ve seen it in movies,” the boy commented as he moved his finger right to left, inspecting Steve’s face for something, neither boy was quite sure of. 

“Alright. You’ve gotta know I’m the least likely person to narc on you, Harrington. What did you take? Special K? Some Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds? Were you Chasing the Dragon? Gotta be something stronger than weed, man,” the boy insisted. 

Steve screwed up his nose and moved away from the man. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Steve complained, trying to untangle the string of words the guy had thrown his way. 

Steve staggered to his feet, swaying before propping himself up, leaning against the wall, and feeling the whole thing tilt under his weight. 

“Dude, your walls are broken,” Steve muttered, as his legs gave out and he slid down to the floor. 

“We’re in a trailer, Steve,” the boy pointed out. Steve looked around the place, trying to make shapes from the blurs of colour and light. 

“Oh yeah,” He noted before resting his chin on his knee. 

The boy sat down in front of him, mirroring Steve’s posture, his chin resting on the bare knees of his ripped jeans. 

“Do you know what you took?” He pushed on, this time taking a different approach. 

“No,” Steve admitted, at last, sliding forward. 

The boy’s rings had caught his attention. They were little halos of light. He curiously tugged at his hand, pulling him close to examine the shine. He ran his fingers over the rise and fall of the rings. 

“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed, seemingly to himself. 

“I think you need to go to the hospital, dude.” 

“No hospitals,” Steve remarked eloquently as he returned to his previous position, face down on the carpet, taking the boy's hand with him. 

“Yeah well, I’m not so sure I like the idea of you sleeping either, Stevie,” He reasoned, his voice sounding strangled.   

“I’m tired,” Steve rebutted, his eyes sliding shut. 

There the boy was again, taking Steve’s face into his palm and pulling him up. For a moment, the vision in his good eye cleared enough to make out brown eyes painted with concern. 

“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts in high school but I don’t want you to O.D. on my carpet. It’s not good for the ambience,” the boy continued. 

Steve squinted, trying to place the face. Sure, he’d been a jerk in high school, particularly before his senior year, but he didn’t remember hating anyone. Not really. Maybe Jonathan, for a time, but that had passed. 

Munson. Steve’s brain supplied at last. The boy was Eddie Munson. He sold drugs and hung out on the fringes of Steve’s bigger parties back in the peak of his ‘King Steve’ era. 

“You hated me?” Steve asked, hearing the hurt in his voice before he realised what he was feeling. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm, Steve’s face still in his palm. 

“What? No. I thought you hated me. I mean, you were a jock and I’ve got my whole ‘fuck the man shtick’, so it wasn’t like we ran in the same circles,” Eddie elaborated. 

“Jocks are ‘the man’?” Steve questioned. He’d like to blame the drugs, but he’d probably ask the question sober. 

“No. Yes. Kind of. Jocks are like... the grease for a cog in the wheel of the machine. All mass compliance to societal norms... or whatever.” 

Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie, trying to make a lick of sense out of what he’d said before resigning himself to the fact that he was completely lost. 

“I like Grease. It’s a cool movie,” he settled on, startling another laugh out of Eddie. He gently lowered Steve’s face onto the carpet and sighed. 

“Yeah, it’s a cool movie,” he muttered, leaving Steve for a moment, tossing sheets and a pillow from the sofa to the floor beside him. 

“Look, I’m going to stay up and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue. You can stay here for the night, but I’m not letting you crash until my uncle gives you the thumbs up, weirdo.” 

Eddie slid a cushion beneath Steve’s head and draped the sheet over him. Steve was bone tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the pain in his body was growing by the moment and less favourable memories were leaking back into the forefront of his mind. He watched as Eddie placed a tape into the VCR and sat down beside Steve. It took him too long to realise the film was Grease. 

“Who’d you get into a fight with this time?” Eddie asked, seemingly aware of Steve’s sudden restlessness. 

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. 

“Were the drugs before or after?” He pushed, searching for something Steve couldn’t work out.

Again, Steve didn’t know how to answer. Once more, Eddie let it slide. 

“You want me to call anyone? A girlfriend... or?” He doesn’t mention Steve’s parents. 

Maybe he was at more parties than Steve remembered, enough to know that the Harringtons being in Hawkins was rarer than a blue moon, less frequent than even Steve would admit to. 

“No,” Steve grumbled, starting to feel the swelling in his lip. 

Eddie nodded and let Steve have his silence. He half paid attention to the flashing lights on the screen, fading in and out of consciousness. Eddie would gently elbow his side each time Steve almost reached sleep. It was a long night, broken only by the opening of a door come sunrise. 

The light was too bright, too sudden. Steve shrunk from it curling into the closest point of dark comfort. Steve realised too late he’d curled himself into a small ball, tucking his face into the familiar darkness provided by Eddie’s crossed legs. 

“What in the Sam Hill have you gotten into, kid?” Steve heard a gruff voice ask in the doorway. Despite his words, the man didn’t sound angry, more amused. 

Steve felt Eddie pull the sheets up to hide his broken face from the light. 

“You know when I was fourteen, and I brought home that stray cat?” Eddie asked. 

Steve heard a door shutting and the scrape of a dining chair sliding against the linoleum. 

“The one that was sick as a dog?” The gruff voice replied. Probably Eddie’s uncle. 

“Same situation,” Eddie spoke.

“You’re telling me you found a kid wanderin’ round the trailer park at night and thought you’d bring him home? You remember what happened to that cat, right?” His uncle asked. 

“He went missing after a week. Then we found him half-kickin’ curled up in the back seat of the Johnsons’ cinder-blocked Austin,” Eddie muttered, stating the words as though it were a conversation Eddie and his uncle had before.  

“And you didn’t leave your room for a week.” 

“Your point, old man?” Eddie remarked.

“My point is, I love you, kid. But sometimes your bleeding heart is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

To Steve’s surprise, the sheet was pulled off his head. The next thing he knew he was face to face with Eddie’s uncle. The man shone a torch in Steve’s eyes, echoing Eddie’s movements, placing a finger in front of his eyes. Eddie watched in silence at Steve’s side. 

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Eddie’s uncle supplied after a beat. 

“He was on something when I found him,” Eddie said. 

Steve was getting sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t there but in the same vein, he wanted to convalesce in peace. Eddie’s uncle shot him a sceptical look.

“Nothing I gave him, promise. He’s not letting me take him to the hospital.” 

“He’s right here,” Steve interjected.

He watched as Eddie’s uncle levelled him under his intense gaze. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he wasn’t seeing symptoms, or a problem Eddie had dropped in his lap but a boy. A kid, in Wayne’s eyes, one that looked worse for wear. It was the goddamn cat all over again. 

“I’m going to get you water and some aspirin. Eds, get some rest. No buts, kid you look like you haven’t slept a wink. Should also be safe enough for you to try to get some shut-eye, boy. I’m not Eddie, you can’t bat your eyes at me and get your way. I’m taking you to the hospital if anything happens, right?” 

Steve looked at the man with narrowly masked surprise before giving him a weak nod. He couldn’t imagine his parents doing the same, not even for one of Steve’s friends, let alone a stranger. 

“Come on, you can sleep in my room,” Eddie uttered, springing to his feet with a joviality that someone who’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep shouldn’t be able to muster. 

Steve blinked, slowly standing and gathering the sheets around himself, acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked. 

“Keep the door open,” Wayne called at their retreating backs. 

That was how Steve spent the summer of ‘85 hauled up and healing at the Munsons’ trailer. A few months later, he’d return the favour. When Eddie went missing, Wayne knew where to look.