#the way he looks down to get a glimpse of her face at the end of bottom right gif

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 5 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

A/N: Me? Desperate for validation? It's more likely than you think Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: none

You make your way through more of the rubble, taking frequent breaks in an attempt to conserve your energy. It’s probably been less than an hour, but it feels like you’ve been trapped for days. You used most of your effort to free Russ, which proved futile, so now you’re simply exhausted.

At some point, you see a glimpse of light between two pieces of crumbled concrete. Using the blunt side of your axe, you begin chipping away at the space. More light begins to break through. The sight causes you to catch your second wind, and you begin swinging harder. Eventually, you make a hole big enough for you to crawl through.

You climb over some of the bigger pieces of the fallen structure and slip between others. You sneak between a few vehicles. You keep walking, though you aren’t sure what you’re looking for. Something in you gut is pulling you in this direction, and you have nothing else to go off of, so you’re going with it.

You hear a cough.

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. You start moving so quickly that you stumble a little and have to slow yourself down so you don’t break an ankle. You shine your flashlight to the side. It lands on a little girl. She squints her eyes and lifts a hand to block out the brightness.

“Kat?” You ask.

She nods.

You laugh. You laugh with joy. You laugh with relief. You laugh until a few tears spring into your eyes. You cut yourself off—no way are you breaking down in front her. You’ve both come this far, and you’re going to see each other to the end. If you’re saving anyone today, it’s her.

You reach into the inner pocket of your jacket, eternally grateful that you took on the added weight. “You looking for this?”

It’s her shoe.

Kat smiles and nods again.

Kat’s tired, and so are you, but you carry her on your back anyway. You swear that, in the distance, you hear a car alarm, so that’s the direction you head in.

“What if we can’t get out?” Kat asks quietly.

“What? Hey, come on, don’t start talking like that now,” you gently scold. “We’ve already made it through the hard part!”

“I guess…” She says, unsure.

You hear the shifting of rubble, but only a little. You think you might hear voices, too. You take off in that direction.

Concrete shifts, and you see more light—a lot of light. Like, your headlamp times ten. You scramble towards it, ducking a little so as to not hurt Kat.

As the dust settles, you can make out at least ten firefighters standing around the scene. You can’t help but smile.

“Hello fellas,” You say, taking a few more steps forward.

A firefighter from a different crew helps Kat off of you. Your attention immediately focuses on two particular firefighters in front of you, both of which have ‘118’ on their caps.

“Welcome back,” Buck greets with a grin.

You laugh and stumble forward right into his arms. Once again, you find yourself holding back tears. You feel someone pat your back and leave his hand there, and you don’t have to look to know it’s Eddie.

You make it back to the triage area, Kat walking in front of you. The moment she sees her parents, she takes off running. On instinct, you jog behind her, but when you see her collapse into her parents’ arms, you stop and simply watch.

They look over at you and nod. You smile and nod back.

Hen insists on looking you over, testing everything from your range of motion to your vision. Even you surprise yourself a little when you pass with flying colors. Hen steals a quick hug before she gets back to work. You just sit there, dumbfounded. You’re exhausted, but you’re okay. You’re alive.

“Hey you,” Buck says, taking a seat next to you.

Somehow, that’s all it takes for the floodgates to break open.

“Woah, hey, come here,” Buck wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You wrap an arm around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. You breathe out a few sobs but slowly quiet yourself. You can feel Buck’s lips pressed to the top of your head. You sit up straight, wiping your eyes. Buck keeps his arm around you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, shaking your head a little. “Just… rough day.”

“Russ?” Buck asks quietly.

You smile sadly and nod, a few more tears escaping in the process. “You know he wasn’t even scheduled to work? He just heard about everything and wanted to help. And now he’s dead. Because I couldn’t save him.”

“But you were there for him,” Buck points out, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “Even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him. He didn’t die alone. You did that.”

“Yeah, I guess. It just doesn’t feel like enough, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

You clear your throat a little. “When I was alone and thought you guys might not find me, I made recordings. I wanted the people I love to hear from me one last time. Can you guess how many I made?”

Buck just watches you. His expression is a mix of intrigue and sympathy.

“Five,” you answer, even though he doesn’t ask. “I made five recordings, one for each of you. That’s it.”

“What about your parents? Siblings?”

“My mom died when she gave birth to me,” you answer. “My dad fell into a bottle. I haven’t spoken to him since I moved away from home seven years ago. People tell me he changed after she died, but… that’s the only way I know him. It makes me feel like I got cheated out of both my parents instead of just one.”

The two of you sit in silence. It’s broken when you laugh.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you all of this,” you chuckle as more tears form. “I guess I just need someone to know that… this job is quite literally my entire life. It’s my passion, my work, my home, and my family. Most of the time, I feel lucky. On days like today, though, it just… scares the hell out of me. Because I’m either gonna die doing what I love, or doing what I love will kill me. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck agrees softly. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do it with, either.”

Once you all returned to the station, you hopped in the shower. When you got out, Buck was waiting for you in the locker room. He insisted on driving you home, making sure you were okay. When he told you, you rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled. The last thing you want to do is navigate LA traffic, so you accept his offer.

When you both started to leave, you noticed Eddie was making phone calls and texts. You learned that he was trying to find a ride to Christopher’s school; he hasn’t had the chance to buy a vehicle yet.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asks again as you all get to the parking lot.

“Just get in the damn car, Eddie,” you say.

The ride is a little tense. Eddie touched base with some of the school staff, so he knows Christopher is okay, but it isn’t the same as seeing it for himself. He taps his phone against the car windowsill. You insisted on sitting in the back, and for good reason: you can already feel yourself dozing off.

Buck pulls over, and you look up to see you’ve arrived at the school. Almost before the car is in ‘park’, Eddie flings open the door and runs up the stairs. Christopher is standing in the front hall, a staff member off to the side. Eddie picks him up in a hug, spinning him around.

“They’re really cute,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Buck is too busy watching them to even register what you said.

Eddie thanks the staff member before opening the door for Chris. The two make their way back to the car, Christopher a little bit in front of Eddie. For a kid with crutches, he moves quickly; the poor kid is probably ready to go home.

Eddie opens the side door for his son, setting the crutches on the floor. With his father’s help, Christopher joins you in the backseat.

��Chris, these are my friends,” Eddie says, pointing at you and Buck as he introduces you both.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile.

“My dad talks about you. A lot,” Christopher says.

You giggle in surprise. “Does he, now?”

Even in the dark, you can see Eddie’s face get red. “‘You’ as in the 118,” he clarifies.

Buck shakes his head and laughs softly as he pulls away from the curb.

This might be the dumbest call you’ve ever been to, and that’s saying something.

A bunch of women decided to get drunk at 11:30 in the morning, and as a fun drunk activity, one of them stuck her head in a tailpipe. The only problem is she couldn’t get it out, so now it’s the LAFD’s problem. Medically, she’s clear, so you and Hen stand back and let the boys do their thing. Unfortunately, the drunk girl has drunk friends and said drunk friends are relentlessly hitting on Eddie and Buck.

“What are you so tense for?” Hen asks.

“I’m not.”

You both know it’s a lie. Until she said it, though, you didn’t realize that your jaw was clenched and your brow furrowed. You roll your shoulders and turn your neck a few times, hoping it relaxes your muscles.

The women are bothering you. And it’s really stupid and childish, especially considering that neither Buck nor Eddie is your boyfriend. They’re just your coworkers, so you have literally no right to get upset that women besides yourself find them attractive.

“I uh, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” Eddie politely rejects one of them. “I have a son.”

“I’m gonna puke!” The woman says from inside the tailpipe.

“You better not!” One of her friends shouts. “These fire guys are totally hot.”

You can feel your jaw start to tense again.

After getting the woman free from the tailpipe, you all begin to make your way back to the engine. Buck and Eddie are a few steps in front of you. They’re trying to be discrete, but you make out every word.

“Hey, so is your son really the reason you don’t date?” Buck asks.

“That, and.. They weren’t my type,” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m talking in general,” Buck continues.

“It’s complicated when you have a kid.”

“Come on, that’s a weak excuse.”

The conversation is cut short when Eddie gets a phone call. He takes a few steps away while you and Buck linger behind. You don’t have to hear anything to see Eddie’s body language change. Buck sends you a knowing glance.

It’s about Christopher.

It’s always weird going past the ER of a hospital. It feels like you’re in forbidden territory, like you’ve stepped outside your bounds. The nice thing about having few family members is you barely have to cross the picket line.

You, Buck, and Eddie get off the elevator. Eddie is a few steps ahead and quickly sees his aunt in a nearby waiting area. They chat a little, and you can see that Christopher is standing near a few nurses, completely eating up the attention. It makes you smile.

Eddie’s aunt explains that it’s his grandmother who’s in the hospital—broken hip. When she was watching Christopher and called him inside, she slipped on a porch step. Christopher had to call 911.

“Who’s this with you?” His aunt asks, turning her attention to you and Buck.

“We work together,” Eddie explains after saying your names.

“Mmm, I thought you just dressed alike.”

“This is my Aunt Josefina—Pepa,” Eddie introduces.

“Hi,” you both say politely.

Pepa begins to lecture Eddie about leaving Christopher with his grandmother. You can tell Eddie feels bad, but you can also tell he has no other options. He dismisses himself from the conversation by meeting up with Christopher.

“Must be rough,” Buck remarks.

“Raising any child alone is rough,” Pepa agrees.

“Eddie’s a saint,” You praise.

Pepa smiles. It’s bittersweet. “I pray for him anyway.”

Christopher ends up spending some time at the station, and it’s one of the best shifts you’ve had in a long time. Eddie’s aunt was busy working when his shift started, and with his grandmother still in the hospital, he truly had nowhere else to take him. It was either bringing his son to work or calling in from work to watch his son. Eddie chose the former.

You’re able to take him on a simple MVC call with no suspected injuries. As you all work to free the drivers and passengers, Bobby explains everything to Christopher. He’s standing on the ground while Christopher stands on part of the firetruck, holding one of the rails for stability. Bobby has an arm around him for the same reason.

When you get back to the station, you make him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. He approves. Then, Chim swoops in and teaches him how to play pinball. At some point, all of you are standing around the firepole, helping Christopher slide down it.

Pepa shows up, and the fun is over. Before Eddie walks them out, he pulls Cap into a hug. You and Buck look at each other and smile.

“This was a really nice idea, Buck.”

“Eh, I figured we could all use a little stress relief,” Buck shrugs.

“Well, clearly Eddie appreciates it. I guess it really does take a village.”

Buck nods in response and begins to walk away.

“I’m thinking of going to nursing school,” you blurt out.

He turns back to face you. “What?”

You clear your throat. This wasn’t how you planned on telling him, just springing it on him in a random conversation. You knew that if you didn’t say something soon, he would hear it from someone else first. You definitely didn’t want that.

“You remember that conversation we had at breakfast a few weeks ago? You know, the one about what we’d be doing if we didn’t work at the 118?”

“You wanna be a nurse?” Buck frowns. “I mean, nurses are great; Maddie’s a nurse. Or, well, she was. You just… don’t seem the type.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve kind of always been interested in flight nursing. You know, like, going up in a helicopter, responding to scene calls, that sort of thing,” you explain as you wring your hands.

“So that means you wouldn’t work here anymore.”

“That’s… a long ways down the line. Like, at least 18 months, probably closer to 2 years. Bobby said I could always stay on casually, pick up shifts whenever I want.”

“You already talked to Bobby,” Buck rubs his neck. “You must be pretty serious about this, then.”

“I guess,” you shrug. You’re trying to sound casual, but the thumping of your heart in your chest doesn’t cease.

Buck smiles. The expression doesn’t meet his eyes. “I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”

This time, he walks away for good, leaving you with a bitter taste on your tongue.

The 118 is called to a helicopter crash site. The pilot tried to make an emergency landing in a park football field but landed in the bleachers instead. After Buck pulls one of the victims from the scene, you do an assessment and quickly realize that, by some miracle, she’s completely fine.

Buck makes his way over to the two of you. “Hey, do me a favor and say ‘And on the 405, speeds are under five miles an hour, making your morning commute a rough one.’"

You look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I-I know that voice. It's, uh, it's Taylor Kelly reporting, right? Skywitness News Eight,” Buck says, pointing back to the helicopter.

“That’s me,” Taylor says with a soft chuckle.

“Wow. Um, it's weird to hear that voice come out of a face.”

Taylor laughs again. “Thank you?”

They’re flirting. You clench your teeth together so hard you think your jaw might pop. You start randomly tossing supplies back into your bag, zip it up, and hop back into the rig before you can hear the end of the conversation.

The next time you see Taylor, she’s at the station. She doesn’t come alone, either—a man holding a television camera is a few steps behind her.

The first one to approach her is Buck, of course. Then Eddie, Chim, Hen, and finally, Bobby. You watch everything happen from the loft; there’s no way you’ll willingly engage in whatever conversation they’re having.

Bobby makes his way up the stairs.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as he walks by.

“Ms. Kelly wants to do a story on the 118,” Bobby says.

You frown. “Is she even allowed to film in here?”

“The chief’s office is on hold. Something tells me that we’ll be seeing quite a bit of her and her cameraman the next few days.”

Bobby’s already gone, but you still roll your eyes.

Taylor manages to track down everyone and get an interview: everyone except you and Captain Nash. She follows along on a few calls, on which you can mostly ignore her. It's much harder to ignore her when she corners you in the loft.

You’re eating breakfast alone at the kitchen island when Taylor bombards you, her cameraman beside her like always. She gives you a massive grin, and something about how it looks makes you nauseous.

“Can we have a few minutes with you?” She asks, still smiling.

“No,” you respond simply.

“...No?”

“No,” you repeat, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s cold.

“Look, I know this is probably a little awkward and uncomfortable-”

“It’s not,” you interrupt as you stand. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

You head towards the coffee pot to warm your cup. You refill it and take a sip as you lean against the counter. Taylor just stares at you.

“I want you to know I only have one goal here: to tell a story. Your story,” Taylor says, forcing the smile back on her face.

“Oh, really?” You ask, setting your coffee on the counter behind you. You push off of the counter so you can approach Taylor. “And uh, how much money do you think you can make telling my story?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what this about, right?” you challenge. “You have a chance to change the trajectory of your career. You can go from the girl who talks about traffic to the woman who sheds a light on the unsung heroes. You’d be stupid not to jump on that opportunity.”

Taylor looks at you. “I suppose.”

“And I would be stupid if I actually believed you have good intentions,” you continue, “because you don’t give a damn about us. You don’t care about the 118 or what we do everyday—you care about yourself. So no, I don’t have a minute and I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You missed the show.”

You open your locker with a huff. You shrug as you pick up your shoes. “Bummer.”

“You were barely in it,” Buck continues. “Something tells me that wasn’t exactly an accident.”

You take a seat on the bench so you can change your shoes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound in the room is you kicking off your boots and slipping into your converse. You begin tying the laces, then pause.

You look over your shoulder at Buck. “You talked to her, didn’t you?”

Buck looks everywhere but your face.

“You know what I said to her,” you say. It isn’t even a question: you can tell by how he’s acting.

“I just don’t understand why you were so rude to her.”

“Oh my god, seriously, Buck?!” you say, standing up to face him. “Her?!”

He crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

You scoff and shake your head. “It means you haven’t changed at all.”

“What?”

You pick up your boots and toss them in your locker, which you slam shut. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair,” he argues, moving his hands to his pockets.

“It’s not?” You ask, cocking your head. “I’m pretty sure a few months ago, you were sleeping with whatever woman fell for the whole ‘hero’ act. So how exactly have you changed?”

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Buck asks defensively. “I mean, it’s not like you care enough to stick around.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you confirm, stepping towards him. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I haven’t even applied to anything.”

“If it’s not my business, then why’d you make it my business?” Buck provokes. “Why’d you even tell me?”

“Because I thought you were my friend!” you shout. “I thought you would be happy for me!”

“Be happy that you want to leave?”

“Be happy that I want more for myself!”

“Well, I’m not happy,” Buck says, crossing his arms again. “You say that we’re your family, and then a few weeks later, you’re talking about other jobs. I mean, was that just a bunch of bullshit?”

You scoff again, and this time, angry tears fill your eyes. “Fuck you, Evan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, turning to the door.

There are a million things you want to say. But then, you remember: you’ve already said them.

You reach into your pocket and come back with your phone. As Buck walks away, you hit the ‘play’ button on a recording you never wanted to listen to.

'Pretty Boy,' your voice in the recording crackles.

Buck stops and turns around.

'Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?'

You hit the ‘pause’ button and stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but don’t you ever say that I don’t care about this job,” you whisper as you walk towards him. You poke a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever say that I don’t care about you.”

“I-”

Your shoulder slams into his as you walk out.

[hpalways]

in another lifetime

charas: timebomb drabble (ekko x powder) synopsis: as ekko thinks back to his journey from the other universe, he wonders and regrets what could've been in this timeline. warning: spoilers a/n: arcane hurt me so now i have to write angst for it LOL, they are my unbecoming frfr i miss them sm. also heard theories that jinx is still alive (im coping BYE) tho so maybe ill have to write another thing where he finds her

That singular night was still vivid in his mind to relive through, over and over again. From the strobing lights to the taints of her blue hues glimmering mischievously, he could just about see it if he closed his eyes. She was so close to him, so beautiful in a white, pure dress that he could not look at anything else. Her cute little dance moves that slowed down time for him and the sway of her short blue hair. Just a reach of his arm... would he be able to feel her warmth?

Of course not. It was now a memory to be tucked away. In this cold, sad world that he fought to survive in, he could not save the one he desperately wished to.

Ekko raised his arm toward the stars in the sky, laying there. So far yet so close. The stars represented her, burning bright until the very end.

When he first heard news that Jinx was gone, his gut dropped down to levels of hell, a torment of agony and lament drowning him in waves. How could it possibly be? She was the one that always came back from the dead to haunt him, a thorn to his side he could not get rid of. But now, she was gone, the moment he tried to reach out to her again.

He wondered.

He wondered so bad.

Boy Savior she called him. It made him so angry back then. So angry he turned his back on her, accepting the fact that he would never see the same girl he once was so close to.

But now he wondered if he gave up on her too soon.

Deep down all along, Powder was in there. The pain that she endured to live the way she had, she did everything to survive. But his cowardice could not face that. He could not see the suffering or the light that had disappeared from her gaze. The glimpse of her scared face beneath his grasp during their fight looked so much like... Powder. And yet, he still could not save her. Instead, he watched Silco carry her away, for her to continue the path of destruction.

When he found her there in her hideout, prepared to end it all, he could finally see the scope of it all. No longer was he shrouded in an endless cycle of rage and resentment, and for once, he could see it with a clear vision.

He should have tried harder -- to be at her side, save her of the demons that chased her.

She had painted him of her colors, her touch tickling his skin as he watched the furrow of her concentrated brow. Jinx was different from Powder in the other timeline, more rough and shrivel, her scowl imprinted on her lips. He realized he didn't mind it though.

Then they went off to war, only for one of them to return.

He... missed her.

Now all that was left of were his spiraling thoughts, of what ifs and regrets.

He pressed his fist against his forehead, feeling the heat of tears swarm from the corner of his eyes. Where he had been with Powder in the other universe on the same rooftop overlooking Piltover, he was now alone, the quiet unbearable.

Powder's words rang in his mind, a push for him to keep going.

"Sometimes taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind."

[ace-cf-cups]

" No, no, you don't have to fly back, really. (Listens) What do you mean this might be your only chance? (Listens) Would you stop? I'm only 26, I'm not even thinking about babies yet. "

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“My boyfriend’s real scary y’know.” Your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “And he’ll be here any moment.”

It’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because Kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. How would he even find you in a place like this? You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and Kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

It started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

You wish Kaji was here already.

“Oh yeah?” The man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling. “I don't see him.”

Your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You warn, “My boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their front.

The familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

“Kaji!”

You can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “Problem?”

He rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “But y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“I wasn’t!” You protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. You thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. You really did. But he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

“Huh?” Kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. The arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. “What'd you say?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” The man chuckles in defeat. “I was just joking. Wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl.” he waves him off. “You should lighten up—”

He chokes when Kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “Then get outta here already.” Kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“And don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

Togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from Miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. He was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. It’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“How shameless.” Togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “Tryna bother my girl?”

In any other situation, Togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. You really had no idea.

“M-my bad man.” He stutters, ripping his arm from Togame’s grasp. “Just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

Togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid Togame’s glare. “Sister? That’s my Shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

The man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when Togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “You mean to tell me your lil sis is from Shishitoren?”

“I said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “It won’t happen again okay? I won’t bother her again.”

Togame’s hands return to his pockets. “Won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

Umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

“….She's probably taken.”

“Is that her boyfriend behind her? Think she's talking to him.”

There's a chuckle between them. “Doesn’t matter. Go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone.”

“What?” The man laughs. “Ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?”

More laughter.

Umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. He’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh.” You turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “Hi, Haji. Did you find a book?”

“Nothing here.” He sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice. “But we can grab some of those flower kits.”

“Really?”

“Of course—”

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. With the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“Ah— your friend, Haji.” Your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“Hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

Umemiya’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. The first friend’s hand is swat off of his shoulder in a split second, Umemiya straightening back up to look back at them.

Their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. A lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “What, you have business with her?”

They flinch at the tone.

“Ah— sorry.” The second friend stutters. “We got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“Ah— what happened?” Your hands delicately cup Sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “N-nothing happened!” He weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“I was only in the bathroom for five minutes.” You laugh. “How’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

He stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. Macarons…or something. He doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—Are you listening, Sakura?”

The clueless look he gives you confirms it. “So you weren’t. I had a feeling— but it’s okay.” You giggle. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. How’d you get into a fight?”

His eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “They were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

You can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face. “I just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO. referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

“What a bitch. She was totally asking for it.”

I know— dressed like a whore.”

Suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. You had asked him to wait outside earlier because ‘you wanted to grab him a super delicious snack that he would most definitely love.’

He had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

“That whore— you mean my girlfriend?” Suo’s voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

“Huh—oh. Yeah.” One of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance. “That bitch inside your girl? You let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?”

He's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. “She's pretty, isn't she?” and Suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Did she reject you too harshly for your liking?”

One of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. “Now how'd you know that? You should really teach that bitch some fucking manners.” He reaches forward to grab Suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind Suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—The fuck did you do?”

“It’s a bad habit of hers,” Suo continues. “I understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you.” The edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

The other man’s eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. “T-the fuck...” he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. What happened?

“You'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way I do for her.” His words are mocking as he heads towards the store’s entrance. “And— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again.”

TOMA HIRAGI.

“H-Hiragi? What are you doing?”

Your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train’s walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“Do you…need more space?” You whisper, heart racing at the proximity. You can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

Hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. “It’s okay.”

He swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. It’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. He could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. And while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when Hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

The train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against Hiragi's chest. “S-sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a smile, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer. “You okay?”

“I’m okay...” you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Your chest is hard.”

He responds with a light chuckle. It’ll be okay like this, he thinks. He’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYU MITSUKI. ‘pretty thing’

“It’s no wonder she doesn't like you,” Kiryu sighs. “You're gross.”

Your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after Kiryu had dragged him there.

“Sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing.” His hand comes to gently interlace with yours. “But he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?”

“It’s okay.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “That was so cool of you.”

His eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. “Oh? You think so?”

“Mhm. I don't know what would’ve happened to me if you were there...” your voice trails off a bit.

You really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. Getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

There’s a light squeeze around your hands, and you’re reminded of this gentle warmth that Kiryu always brings with him. “Don't worry about it.” He gives you a small smile. “I’ll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. It’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“You’re like a bodyguard, Kyo.”

You giggle at the huff beside you. “How’d you even react that fast?”

It all happened within a second. You were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. Before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry Sugishita on top of him.

“He made me angry.”

Of course he would be. And if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be an entirely different story. You’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious. Pay extra close attention to everything around you.

With Sugishita, however, it’s different. You think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. Whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “Well, don’t be so mad, cutie.” You smile, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“Everything is okay— I’m okay. I’ll even get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

He lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. He wonders why you’re not shaken up. Ifnhe had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. In public. His jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“Why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what Umemiya said about toning down his choice of words around others. “Why’re you so happy?”

“Hmm? I’m not too worried.” You laugh. “You’re my bodyguard right? Nothing will happen if you’re here.”

part 2

[tealvenetianmask]

The "old movies" of Blitz's traumatic memories went by really fast, so I slowed it down to .25 and watched it frame by frame to see what I could find. Here are the frames I found interesting.

The necklace. It's confirmed that this is the same one that his mother wore, and he found it in the fire. Maybe it fell off while she tried to escape the flames? We also see how it haunts him when her eyeball turns into it in his hallucination.

Cash throwing a hard fucking smack. Maybe after the fire? It kind of follows narratively, but I couldn't get much from the background. Or maybe it's earlier? Either way, our theories that Cash was physically abusive are confirmed. Fuck him.

Two cute M&M moments. I've felt for a while that when they got together it really messed with Blitz's world. The second one looks familiar. Is it from Exes and Oh's right before he hugs them and acts invasive about Chaz? Either way, his hands are reached out. He feels like a third wheel since they became a couple. So it seems like a lot of his creepy behavior comes down to feeling abandoned by his friends and trying to SOMEHOW be close to them in the only way he knows how to do so safely (being sexual and joking).

This moment with Loona at the end of Seeing Stars. The rage in her face. This was played for laughs mostly (Loona refusing the hug and kicking him in the balls) but maybe it was actually hurtful? Seems like it stuck with him. Seems like he fears that Loona actually resents him (so these two need a talk too eeek).

Barbie. Yepppppp. I can't decide whether this is in Unhappy Campers or from an earlier time.

ALL the Stolas moments. Is it reading into it too much to notice that in all of the moments before Blitz raged in The Full Moon, Stolas is looking at him, and in all of the moments after, he's looking away? Regardless, these are all really upsetting moments for Blitz. And the sheer number of them says something about how fresh and painful the breakup still is for him. HOPING they reunite and make some progress on this next episode. :(

I love the role that Blitz's HANDS play in these glimpses into his traumatic moments. He's never touching anyone, and often reaching or pulling back, or touching an object instead. He has so much love in him, and he's so lonely.

Updates, for anyone who's seeing this from the original post. Thanks to those who pointed these out.

Blitz's hands are burned when Cash smacks him, so it's from after the fire.

The M&M moments are from Murder Family and Truth Seekers.

[hoshifighting]

Nerd!Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After finding Nerdy!Seungcheol crying in the corner of the locker room because his girlfriend broke up with him to be with a jock after joining in the cheerleading team, you decide to help him and do everything he wished his ex-girlfriend had done. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crack, some bickering—slight enemies2lovers plot, he cries, seungcheol is not a virgin (but his ex never gave him blowjob), mentions of alcohol (beer), mentions of glow-up, reader uses short dress and mentions short skirt, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, answering phone in the middle of the sex—voyeur?, hickeys, body fluids (cum) and cringey mentions of hands mimics (fingering/blowjob).

As you head to the dressing room to grab your things after your Friday lonely practice, the usual silence from the night is broken by a faint, muffled sound. You pause, listening intently. It’s a sniffling noise, followed by broken pants. Curiosity piqued, you follow the sound deeper into the lockers, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Turning the corner, you find Seungcheol, huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Seungcheol? What are you doing here?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. Teasing him is practically second nature to you.

His head snaps up, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” he snaps back, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You place a hand on your waist, raising an eyebrow. “I think the better question is, why are you in the women’s locker room?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Seriously?” he mutters, scrambling to his feet, the embarrassment clear on his tear-streaked face.

You roll your eyes and turn to leave. 

You wait just outside, leaning against the wall with your phone, scrolling through messages, pretending not to notice the state he’s in.

A few moments later, Seungcheol emerges, his face still blotchy from crying but now trying to pull himself together. He dries his tears on his sweatshirt, still hiccuping softly.

“Spill it,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “What happened?”

He hesitates, but he knows that on Monday, everyone will know about it. “Minji broke up with me,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s dating Jaehyun from the basketball team now.”

It’s a stereotype for a reason. “And you didn’t see that coming?”

Seungcheol’s face crumples again, and you immediately regret your harsh words.

But you can't help it! Jaehyun is the quintessential jock, the kind of guy who always ends up dating cheerleaders. It’s almost cliché.

Seungcheol nods continuing, looking down at his feet. “I knew she wanted more popularity, but I didn’t think she’d...”

“Look, Seungcheol, she’s not worth it if she’s willing to dump you for some jock just to boost her social status.” You shrug as you walk toward the hallway exit.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

You shrug, slipping your phone into your bag. “I can’t let you mope around like this. It’s pathetic.”

He manages a weak smile at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you say, starting to walk again.

You leave Seungcheol at his dorm, giving him a final glance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to toughen up.” 

The weekend passes in a blur of volleyball practice and social events. You don’t see Seungcheol at all, not even a glimpse. Sunday night, you find yourself at a party, scanning the crowded room. There she is—Minji, with Jaehyun, surrounded by people. They look like the picture-perfect couple, a stark contrast to the image of Seungcheol crying in the women’s locker room just two nights ago.

After the party, you head to the convenience store near the university dorms to grab a late-night snack before heading to bed. As you wander down the ramen aisle, you almost bump into someone. You look up and see Seungcheol, his face so fucking swollen and hidden under a hood.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” you whisper, startled, clutching your snacks.

He scoffs, “What do you think? Been crying all weekend.”

You furrow your brows. “Seriously? You’ve been crying the whole time?”

“What do you think?” he repeats, more bitterly this time, grabbing a pack of ramen.

You both head to the cashier, the cashier glancing curiously at Seungcheol's disheveled appearance. As you walk towards the dorm buildings, it strikes you how funny you must look together—your party dress barely covering your ass, and his baggy 'I'm not going to see anyone I know' clothes.

“Man, if you’re going to show up looking like this tomorrow, you might as well ask to leave college for real,” you say, shaking your head.

He sighs, his voice weary. “I’m not going to drop out because of her.”

“Then stop crying,” you reply, exasperated.

He snaps at you, “What do you even know about it?”

You pause in your tracks and give him a hard stare. “While you were crying your eyes out all weekend, she was giving Jaehyun head in his car, like, minutes ago,” you say, your face contorting with disgust at the memory.

His eyes open wide. “She gave him head?! What a whore. She never even gave me a blowjob.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You raise an eyebrow, munching on your snack. “She never did? Seriously?”

He looks even more pissed, fists clenching at his sides. “I swear! And I always—never mind…” 

“Dude, you were crying over someone who’s not even worth it,” you say, shaking your head. “She’s obviously just using Jaehyun for popularity. She’s not worth your tears.”

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk, the anger beaming off him. “I thought she loved me.” 

“Pfft! Clearly, she didn't,” you reply, shrugging. “She’s a social climber. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top.”

He looks at you, grabbing a handful of your snacks “You’re right. I’m done with her.” he mutters, chewing monstrously. Seungcheol frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you even know about that?”

“I was at the party,” you admit with a shrug.

He glances at you, taking in your outfit and the faint smell of feminine perfume mixed with alcohol. “Now it makes sense why you smell like that and why you’re dressed like this at 11 p.m. on a Sunday,” He glances down, taking in your party dress that’s riding high.

He recalls the moment in the convenience store when you bent down to grab some Takis from the bottom shelf, your ass almost completely exposed. He had glanced, unfortunately and quickly moved to stand behind you, rolling his eyes, blocking the cashier's view, who was wide-eyed and staring. 

“Man, I gotta tell you about all the crap I had to put up with.” he begins.

You listen attentively, craving some juicy gossip to cap off your weekend. He needed to vent, and you were going to end the day with some top-tier gossip. A win-win situation.

At his dorm, Seungcheol sits on his bed, and you are plopping down on the chair, eager to hear the tea.

“Can you believe she made me cancel our anniversary dinner because she wanted to go to some stupid party instead?” he says, shaking his head.

“No way!” you exclaim, licking Takis powder off your fingers, your eyes wide with interest.

He nods, exasperated. “Yeah, and she didn’t even tell me until the last minute. I had this whole thing planned, and she just ditched me.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, munching on another Takis. 

“And she always made me do her assignments. I spent countless nights writing essays for her while she was out partying.” 

“She did that?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yep,” he sighs, moving restlessly on his bed. “And get this—she once made me wait for three hours outside her dorm because she was ‘getting ready.’ When she finally came out, she said she didn’t feel like going out anymore.”

“That’s insane!” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” he agrees. “And she never wanted to do anything I liked. It was always about her and what she wanted.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re too nice, Seungcheol. If it were me, I’d have shown up the next day in a mini skirt like this—” You make a gesture with your fingers, indicating something tiny, “—just to rub it in her face.”

He snorts, amused by the thought. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s different for a guy.”

“Maybe,” you reply, pausing as an idea strikes you. “Wait, do you have contact lenses? Or maybe a clipper?”

He looks confused. “What? Why?”

You step closer, gently moving his hair out of his forehead. “Because if you’re going to move on, you need a new look. Let’s start with this mess of hair.” 

He looks at you, confused. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Bro, trust me,” you say, determined. 

You walk around his room, rummaging through his things, looking for the clipper. Seungcheol sits on his bed, looking at you… Nervously. 

As you plug in the clipper, the buzzing sound fills the room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re not going to make me bald, are you?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember who did the girls’ undercuts below their ponytails for last semester's game?”

His eyes light up in recognition. “That was you?”

You walk back smugly, opening your arms. “Yep, that was all me.”

As you begin cutting his hair, he starts talking again. “You know, she once told me that my glasses made me look like a nerd, and she hated it when I wore them in public.”

You roll your eyes. “Ya! That’s ridiculous. Your glasses suit you. But we can always get you contacts if you want a change.”

You skillfully give him an undercut, trimming his hair and revealing a fresh look. He looks at himself in the mirror, his forehead and thick eyebrows finally getting the attention they deserve. You help him with the contacts, and before you leave his dorm, you give him a final piece of advice.

“No sweaters,” you say firmly.

The next day, as you finish getting ready in your dorm, you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you find Seungcheol standing there, looking surprisingly handsome in his new look.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, giving him a knowing smile and nodding for him to enter. As you finish getting ready, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles his feet, looking a bit shy. “I don’t know, just felt weird going alone.” “You look healthy,” he says, his eyes taking in your appearance.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” you reply, deadpan. “You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, the nervousness fading a bit. 

Together, you head towards the university building. As you walk beside him, you notice people glancing at him, some even doing double-takes. You stand proudly, shoulders squared, almost waving like a beauty queen.

As you and Seungcheol make your way down the hallway, you spot Minji in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a group of people. Your eyes dart between her, Seungcheol, and Jaehyun, and you think to yourself that this moment is straight out of a movie. You almost wish you had popcorn to complete the scene.

You and Seungcheol walk closer, and you can see Minji's eyes light up as she spots him. She opens her mouth, probably ready to deliver some dramatic line or apology. 

But Seungcheol, simply ignores her and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. His chest puffed out slightly.

You take a fine distance from them, your jaw practically dropping in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that, did you really just ignore her?” you ask, laughing.

Despite his impressive new look, Seungcheol didn’t end up mingling with the jock crowd as you might have expected. 

Instead, during recess, you spotted him from afar, sitting with his book club friends. The contrast was cute—here he was, looking like he could easily fit in with the jocks, but he chose to hang out with his old crew, surrounded by books and enthusiastic chat. He stayed true to his roots, hanging out with the people who truly mattered to him

He had the whole package—stylish haircut, fresh look, and yet, he was still the same Seungcheol. Still maintaining his original traits and habits.

The bell rings, signaling the end of classes, and you head towards the dorms, looking forward to a bit of downtime. Suddenly, you hear someone calling after you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn to see Seungcheol jogging towards you, his new look making him stand out even more than before. He’s out of breath but manages a grin. “How can I show my appreciation for what you did?”

You wave him off with a smile. “You don’t need to do anything.”

He pouts, looking genuinely disappointed. “Come on, please!”

You roll your eyes, teasingly. “Calm down, nerd! Hmm, maybe just a beer or something?”

His face brightens at the suggestion. “Beer? That sounds perfect!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you both start walking together.

As you and Seungcheol sit at a small corner table in the campus bar, nursing your beers, he takes a swig and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m drinking on a Monday,” he says, looking at his beer as if it might somehow magically make the week less mundane.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes it feels like drinking just becomes a part of the routine. It’s like college fucks you up so much that you need these little escapes to keep your sanity.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s kind of messed up how we end up just normalizing this stuff.”

You both sip in comfortable silence for a moment before he glances at his phone, scrolling through a chat. “Oh, hey, look at this,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

He shows you a photo on his phone. It’s from the party you were at on Sunday—Minji inside Jaehyun’s car, Minji’s head is down, clearly giving him a blowjob, and Jaehyun’s face is smug. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you look at it.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s what I saw,” you say, cringing. “I didn’t want to think about it again.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “It’s just... seeing that, after everything that happened, it’s like she’s moved on and I’m left here...”

You take a deep breath, considering his frustration. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a shitty situation.”

He looks at you. “You know, I never really got why she never... I mean, she never did that for me. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

You blink, taken aback by his confession. “She has never given you a blowjob? You were serious then?”

Seungcheol nods, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, and now seeing her do it for Jaehyun... it just feels like a slap in the face.”

You sip your beer, thinking it over. The whole situation has him worked up, and you can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic. 

“Damn, that’s rough. I can see why you’d be so pissed.”

“it’s like, she was so willing to do it with Jaehyun, but never with me,” he says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, now you know,” you say, a bit smugly. “She was obviously saving that for Jaehyun.”

He looks down at his beer, indeed annoyed. “Yeah, she was a piece of work. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Well, we could always find a way to have some fun and blow off steam. I’m sure there’s a way to make you forget about Minji’s bullshit.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Like what?”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Maybe even something you’ve been wanting for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

You lean in even closer, your voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just say, I know a thing or two about making someone forget their ex and feel a lot better. Are you interested?”

You smirk, is he acting, or he's that bad at catching hints?

He looks at you, catching the hint. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grin, leaning in a bit closer. “Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

He blushes slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Careful, Y/N. You’re making it sound like you’re fishing for something specific.”

“Maybe I am. Just putting it out there.” you shrug.

“Are you serious? Stop playin' with me.”

“I'm dead serious.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

You can't quite pinpoint if it's the alcohol working its magic, loosening up inhibitions, or if it’s just the chemistry between you and Seungcheol, but his attempts at flirting are hitting all the right notes. There’s a certain charm to the way he’s leaning closer, trying to gauge your reactions with every word he says.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You know,” he starts, his voice a bit slurred, “I’ve always admired how you can just say whatever you want.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to match his tone. “Oh really? And what else do you admire?”

He smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, for starters, your confidence. And the way you’re not afraid to call me out. It’s actually pretty sexy.”

The alcohol seems to be giving him a boldness you’ve never seen before. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face a bit clumsy.

“You’re drunk,” you tease, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement his touch brings.

“Maybe,” he admits, his gaze lingering on your lips. “But I’m not too drunk to know when something feels right.”

“Seungcheol,” you say softly, trying to keep things light but feeling a pull towards him, “are you sure you want to go down this road?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

[...]

The scent of your dorm—so unmistakably you—fills Seungcheol's senses, making him harder than ever. As he stands before you, your naked form on your knees, your hand between your legs touching your throbbing clit, and the sight of you looking up at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s enough to make his head spin.

You stroke his cock with one hand, licking your lips like you’re about to devour him. 

His cheeks are flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the very embarrassment of the situation. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation, his cock starting to ache with need. The handjob you’re giving him is good, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust. You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, the head sticky with precum.

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down his shaft. 

You lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the precum at the tip of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste coats your tongue, and you hum appreciatively, savoring the flavor. Seungcheol's breath hitches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck!” he groans, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You smile up at him, loving his reaction. You want this to be memorable, to engrave this moment into his mind permanently. You give the head of his cock a few teasing licks before enveloping your lips around it. 

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he groans, his voice ragged. As you slide your mouth further down, taking him deeper, his body curls inward, every muscle tensing. It’s like you’re sucking every ounce of energy from him, and he can barely stand it. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you look so devoted, so gorgeous.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing the absolute ecstasy on his face. You’re dedicated, giving all of yourself to make this perfect for him. You bob your head, sucking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. Your tongue works along his length, swirling around the tip before you take him in again.

Seungcheol’s efforts to hold back his moans crumble. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” he whimpers, his voice loaded with desperation. He grips your hair, not to control but to anchor himself, as his arms on the bed threaten to give out.

You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You suck harder, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in beat with your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his neediness evident in every spasm and moan.

His moans become louder, more ragged, filling the room. The sound of his pleasure fuels your horniness, and you touch yourself more frantically, your fingers rubbing your clit in time with the movements of your mouth. You’re giving him everything, and you love the way he’s falling apart above you.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he chokes out whiny. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

You look up at him, and suck him even harder, your mouth sliding up and down his length faster. You want to push him over the edge, to give him the orgasm he so desperately needs. Your hand strokes his shaft with more speed, your mouth working tirelessly.

You can't believe that Minji never gave Seungcheol a blowjob. Just the sight of his cock is almost enough to make you cum. With your hand still slick from touching yourself, you grab the base of his shaft and take him as deep as you can, sinking him down your throat. 

You hold him there for some seconds, feeling the tears from your gag reflex forming. When you pull back, you see him nearly losing his balance.

Determined to make this unforgettable, you’re willing to suck his very soul out if it means you get to see his face as he cums and hear those incredible moans from him.

Seungcheol’s body tenses, his muscles locking up as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out.

Seungcheol’s entire body convulses, his hips jerking uncontrollably as you milk every drop from him. His eyes roll back, and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound of someone utterly lost in pleasure. You keep sucking him gently, drawing out his orgasm, until he’s left trembling and spent.

When you finally release him, Seungcheol collapses onto the bed, needing to lay down to recover. 

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling a rush of pride at the look of utter bliss on his face. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles so wide it makes your heart swell.

He sits up slightly, his hand wrapping around your throat. He grips you gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. You’re caught off guard when he leans in, not giving you just a peck, but sliding his tongue into your mouth. You thought he might find it weird after cumming in your mouth, but he does it without hesitation, moaning at the taste.

You can feel your pussy immediately dripping onto the sheets. His kiss is hungry, filled with gratitude and lingering fascination, and you kiss him back just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull away, you both are breathing heavily.

“Damn, Y/N,” he bites his bottom lip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Seungcheol's eyes roam over your body, and you can see the determination in his gaze. He wants to pay you back, to show you what he can do. Gently, he lifts you onto the bed, laying you down. He positions himself between your legs, his stomach pressed against the mattress. You hear him hiss slightly as his sensitive dick makes contact with the sheets, but his focus remains on you.

“I’ve been studying up on this, Y/N,” he says with a proud smile, like he’s presenting a perfect exam result. “Time to show you what I’ve learned.”

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing against your skin. You shiver, your breath hitching in tension. When his mouth finally reaches your pussy, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue darts out, tasting you for the first time, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste so good,” he says, almost to himself, before diving in.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue parting your folds and flicking over your clit. You moan, your hips twitching involuntarily. Seungcheol’s hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he starts to work his tongue with more ambition.

His tongue encircles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks it into his mouth, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp. He alternates between sucking and licking, his mouth hot and insistent. 

You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, mingling with your moans, and it’s driving you even more soaked.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, that feels so good,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “You’re so good at this, nerd.” you smile looking at him.

He looks up at you eyes light up at the praise. “You like that?” he asks, his voice muffled against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you plead.

He continues to be concentrated on you, his eyes sharp and focused, studying every reaction. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hips buck against his mouth. He smiles against you, clearly pleased with your response.

Seungcheol grins and shifts slightly, bringing his fingers into play. He teases your entrance with one finger before slowly pushing it inside you, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot—finding it embarrassingly fast. You shout, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Seungcheol, just like that,” you pant, your hips grinding against his face.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The combination is mind-blowing, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. His fingers twist and curl inside you, like they're calling you, pressing against your sweet spot, and your moans become louder, more desperate.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, your thighs squeezing around his head. 

You feel a bit guilty for trapping him like this, but Seungcheol looks delighted, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he reads every reaction from your body.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a rapid, persistent move, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you, combined with the slick noises from his mouth, are almost obscene, but they only heighten your arousal.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop, Seungcheol, please.”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working you with a preciseness that makes your head spin. You can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry out, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you.

Seungcheol keeps going, drawing out your orgasm, his fingers curling and his tongue flicking relentlessly. Your moans are loud and broken, your hips grinding against his face as you moan vulgarly, your chest rising as you soak his mouth and face. 

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing him even tighter, and you scream his name, your voice echoing in the room. He continues to lick and finger you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re left shaking and breathless.

Finally, he pulls back, his face shining with your arousal, a pleased smile on his lips. “How was that?”

Your body is still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, and all you can manage is a breathless moan, your hands smudging your face as you try to collect yourself. Seungcheol laughs softly at your reaction.

“I don’t know if I can ride you right now,” you admit, your voice shaking. “I’m still trembling.”

He smirks, a naughty glint in his eyes. “Who said anything about you riding me? I can fuck you just as good, just lay back and let me take care of you.”

The promise in his words makes you clench, and you nod, eager to feel him inside you. He positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. As he lines himself up with your entrance, you can’t help but gasp at the sight of his size.

When he finally pushes inside you, the stretch is both breathless and blissful. His cock fills you completely, the sensation intensified by how wet you are. Your body welcomes him, and he slides in easily, the friction making you moan loudly.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, just like that!” you breathe out, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck as he begins to move. His kisses are surprisingly sweet for the roughness of his thrusts, and you find the contrast and incredibly hot.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more and more.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you grit through your teeth. 

Seungcheol’s eyes blacken, and he grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. You cry out, your head falling back against the pillow, your body jiggling with each strong movement.

 “I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name,” he promises, and you know he means it.

His thrusts become relentless, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, your eyes watering. Your moans turn into cries, your mind going blank with pleasure. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you cling to him, needing him closer.

“Seungcheol, I’m gonna—”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s phone ringing startles both of you. “Fuck... no,” he mutters, pulling out of you reluctantly. You almost swallow a sob, your orgasm fading away.

"Answer it," you tell him, your voice steady despite your frustration.

He looks at the caller ID, his face contorting in disgust. "Minji," he says, showing the screen to you. You wave your hand, signaling for him to answer. He does, putting the call on speaker. The fact that he's not hiding it, that he wants you to hear, that he doesn't have a problem with it, is unexpectedly hot.

“Seungcheol?” You roll your eyes at her voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his tone short and uninterested.

“I... I wanted to talk. Can we meet up?” she asks, her voice faltering.

You sit up silently, your mind racing. Seungcheol answers her shortly, clearly wanting to hang up. As he talks, you get an idea. You crawl over to him, your eyes locked on his as you straddle his lap, your breasts pressing against his face. 

He looks up at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his breath hitching.

“Seungcheol, are you listening to me?” Minji’s voice is impatient, and he can't answer.

You just smile, grabbing his cock and sliding it back inside you as his face contorts in silence, jaw slack as he looks inside your eyes. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as you begin to move, slowly at first, then faster, circling your hips around him.

“Seungcheol? Are you there?” She asks, sounding more desperate now.

He tries to answer, but you start moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, his voice strained. He places a hand on your hip, trying to steady you as you ride him.

“What are you doing?” her voice cuts through the tension, suspicion clear.

You moan slyly, loudly, not even needing to force it. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you purr, the sound sending a cold lick down his spine. He can't help but moan too, his resolve breaking.

Minji’s voice rises in panic. “Seungcheol, what’s going on? Who’s there with you?”

He can’t help but moan too, gripping your hips tighter. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Minji,” he says, his voice strained with pleasure.

“What the hell is happening? Who is that?!” She's furious.

Seungcheol’s hands grip your hips, his body shuddering with each thrust. “Y/N... I can’t...”

“Just a little more,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “Let her hear how good I make you feel.”

He groans, unable to hold back any longer. “Minji, I’m fucking done with you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Don’t call me again!”

You moan again, louder this time, and Seungcheol echoes your sound, his head falling back. 

The call disconnects abruptly, but you don’t stop. 

You ride him harder, feeling him throb inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his moans as he comes, his release sending you over the edge as well.

Seungcheol throws the phone aside with a decisive flick of his wrist, his focus entirely on you now—not that he stopped, his mind was imploring for you every second. 

He grips your hips firmly, handling you on his lap with a possessive, almost primal passion, like you’re a fucking doll. The strength of his arms moving you on his lap, makes you gasp, and you abruptly pull away from the kiss, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to suppress your scream.

It doesn’t work. 

The sound that escapes you is raw and unfiltered—a high-pitched scream that echoes off the walls of the dorm room. You’re cumming all over his cock, your cum spilling over onto his balls and pelvis, the wetness spreading in a deliciously messy explosion.

Seungcheol’s grip tightens, his breathing ragged as he feels the lock of your orgasm. He’s fighting his own demons to keep his eyes open, the pleasure so harsh that it’s almost too much to endure. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the struggle written all over his face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his voice wasted with overstimulation. His moves become more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably, every muscle tensed as you fight to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded in the moment. You feel the room spinning, the pleasure so intense that it’s almost blinding. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggle to stay upright.

You collapse against Seungcheol. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost desperate grip. Despite his own wavering strength, his desire to hold and shield you is real, overshadowing any fatigue he might be feeling.

With the last of your strength, you gently pull his cock out of you, your movements sluggish. You remain close, still wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and softness of his body against yours. The sensation of his cock slipping free leaves a trail of dampness between you, your orgasms dripping onto his pelvis and the sheets beneath you.

Seungcheol shudders as he feels the wetness spreading across his skin. The soaked feeling on his pelvis, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, makes him groan softly. His hands are still firmly clasped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just did that while Minji was on the phone.”

You chuckle softly, your exhaustion making your laugh feel weak but genuine. 

Seungcheol lets out a rueful laugh. “I was trying so hard to keep it together while she was talking, and here you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “So, what did she hear exactly? Did she get the full experience or just a taste?”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, she heard more than a taste. I was trying to get her off the line quickly, but with you going at it like that, I think she caught on pretty fast. She definitely knew something was up.”

“And now she’s probably going to think you’re a total jerk for just hanging up on her like that.”

“To be honest, I was so caught up in how good you were making me feel that I couldn’t even process what she was saying. All I could think about was you.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of frantic activity and poorly disguised attempts to cover up the previous night's larks. As you glance in the mirror, you notice the indicative signs of sex: red, blossoming hickeys on your neck that stubbornly refuse to be concealed. You grab your concealer and try your best to dab and blend, but the more you work, the more obvious it seems.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is in an equally frantic state. He’s darting around his dorm room, desperately scrubbing away any remaining proof of the night before. He’s juggling a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to hide the hickeys with his hoodie. He eventually settles on a high-collared shirt that looks formal and slightly out of place for a morning class, but it gets the job done.

You rush out of your dorm, barely managing to grab your things before heading to your first class. The entire way there, you catch glimpses of yourself in shop windows and mirrors, each time cringing at how you might still look too happy, too satisfied.

Seungcheol is nearly out of breath by the time he arrives at the hallways, his face flushed—not entirely from exertion, you suspect.

“Did you manage to get rid of all the hickeys?” Seungcheol whispers walking on your side suddenly, as he tries to adjust his collar without drawing too much attention.

“Not even close,” you reply with a wry smile. “I’m basically wearing a turtleneck now, but it’s not foolproof.”

He laughs, a bit too loudly given the circumstances. “Well, at least we look like we’re going somewhere fancy. If anyone asks, just say it’s a new fashion statement.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m just hoping people don’t look too closely.”

As you both ascend the stairs to your respective classes, the early morning hustle is almost forgotten when Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, his eyes darting around to ensure no one is watching. 

The empty stairwell is the perfect backdrop for his next move.

Before you can react, Seungcheol leans in and steals a quick, tender peck from your lips. The unexpected kiss surprises you, and a smile instantly lights up your face. You respond with another, slightly longer kiss.

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a playful glint in your eye. “So, what about tonight?” you ask slyly.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

You make a theatrical gesture with your hand, tracing a path up and down to your cheek, poking your cheek with your tongue, mimicking the motion of sucking him off. Your naughty movement is clear and provocative.  

Seungcheol's face flushes instantly, his eyes widening as he processes your meaning.

He bites his lip, his eyes locking onto yours with a glint of playful defiance. With a teasing smirk, he lifts his middle fingers, licking them exaggeratedly before curling them inward, making the motion unmistakably obscene.

“Something like this?” he asks, his voice sultry, his eyes never leaving yours. “Think you can handle it tonight?”

You can't help but be taken aback by Seungcheol's bold gesture, your jaw falling slack in surprise. 

“Meet me at the storage room,” you murmur, urgent. “You’re going to finger me there.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “The storage room?” he repeats, his voice a quiet, thrilled whisper, his breath catching slightly.

He thinks then gives you a quick, eager nod, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Sure thing,” he continues. “Can’t wait.”

A birthday one-shot to my cutie pie hahaha 29 years old—I'm crying n'shit. 😭🥺❤️

[girlrotterr]

✧ ⁺˳ She might not look like she gets bitches.

꒰ streamer!ellie headcannons ꒱ a/n: I know this is a little short but wanted to write something silly!

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose bad posture is only made worse by the massive gaming headset permanently denting her hair. By the end of each stream, there’s a wild, flattened patch on her head. Chat’s constantly telling her to take a break, but she just grins, shaking her head with a stubborn “This is the look, trust.” ignoring the fact that her neck is basically molded to fit the headset

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose mic is almost as old as her setup, hanging off a stand with a few screws loose. It crackles with static if she yells too loudly, but she refuses to upgrade.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose webcam glitches, freezing her mid-sentence in the least flattering positions, like mid-eye roll or tongue out. She’ll smack the side of her screen, muttering. “Oh, fucking come on!” 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose desk is a mess of clutter: tangled cords, stray stickers, and half-finished doodles scattered across the surface. Chat is obsessed with trying to guess what all the random junk is, especially when something odd slips into frame—like an old action figure with a missing arm or an unopened can of Spam.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who leans back in her chair, stretching out her arms with a carefree sigh, her hair falling messily over her face. When suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of her strap-on, casually hanging out in the corner of the screen. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!!"

"DAWG NO WAY!?"

"NO WAY BRO GETS ANY TYPE OF PLAY"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose chat’s favorite pastime is mocking her everytime she gets cocky. She’ll brag like, “Watch this fucking clutch.” only to immediately fumble, staring straight into her webcam, deadpaned. The chat spamming with messages like: 

"Just uninstall bro.."

"How tf is she this bad?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose quick to pick up on any kid’s attitude in the game. The second she hears a high-pitched “You’re trash!” she instantly counters, “YOUR DADS STROKE GAME IS TRASH!” She’ll sit there grinning, hyping herself up as the kids try to come back with more insults. Chat’s losing it, spamming, "BRO HE'S 12?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever in the heat of a game, her brows furrow, her jaw sets, and the chat braces for impact. When she misses a shot, her frustrated yell reverberates, echoing through thin walls that neighbors are definitely complaining about. “I’m never playing this shit again!” Spolier: She always plays it again.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever she’s roped into playing with Abby, her chat lights up with anticipation. Abby always manages to take her down, which only amps up her muttered curses and exaggerated sighs. “I WAS FUCKING LAGGING” she yells, while her chat’s ablaze with "IM CRYINGGGFF!" and "ELLIES ACTUAL FUCKING CHEEKS BRO!" Abby barely has to try; one word and Ellie’s thrown off, dropping all her ammo in the wrong place.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you show up in her game lobby, she clears her throat, trying to play it smooth. She lowers her voice a full octave, attempting some kind of “cool” introduction. But the chat? They’re absolutely losing it.

"DID ELLIE JUST TURN INTO A FUCKING MAN?!"

"I CANNOTOTTTT"

"PLEASE ELLIE UR EMBARRASING."

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie always tries to play it smooth by making some bold promise, like, “Stick with me, and we’ll clutch this.” But then she immediately gets taken out. Chat explodes, throwing in every possible roast, like, "BRO ELLIE PACK IT THE FUCK UP!" and "THE HOES ARE RUNNING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who, by the end of the stream, knows you’re still there in chat. So a quick, stumbling sentence slips out, “Uh, if you...you know, ever wanna game or whatever, just hit me up.”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you send over your Instagram, she freezes, her in-game character getting KO’d. But she’s too hyped to care. She jumps out of her chair, nearly flipping it backward, screaming into her mic, “BRO, BRO, BRO, NO WAY—LETS GOOOO!!” She starts pacing, muttering, “CHAT, ARE WE SEEING THIS!?.”

The Chat’s blowing up like: 

"WWWWWW!!!!!"

"OKAY ELLIEEEE WE SEE YOUUU!!!!"

"THERE'S ABSOLUETLY NO WAY"

"BRO?!?!?!!"

and she’s just laughing, all out of breath. 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s bouncing in her seat, half-yelling at her monitor, “FUCKK ” She’s pointing at your handle in her chat, looking dazed, like she’s still trying to process it. Her hands are shaking, and she’s practically yelling over her poor-quality mic, “I FUCKING DID THAT CHAT!”  Chat’s spamming, "PLEASEE SHE WAS DOING CHAIRTY WORK ELLIE!" and "NAHHH THATS DEFINITELY AI"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s too hyped to even hear the first few bangs on her door. But then, it’s like her soul leaves her body. “dude, what was that?” She leans closer to the mic, whispering like her neighbors can’t still hear her, “um… chat…?” Chat’s flooding with "NUH UHHH" and "AWWW SHITTT"and she’s just grinning, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, hold on, lemme go check”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie where a moment later, she comes back into frame holding a piece of paper up to the webcam: an eviction notice. She stares at the camera, lips pressed into a thin line as chat explodes, crying.

"NO WAYYYYY!!!!?!??!?!"

"SENDING YOU JOB APPLICATIONS"

"IM FUCKING CRYINGFFFF!!"

"UR GONNA HAVE TO SELL THAT STRAP"

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[scarlettmurphy]

STARCROSSED +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then your father by a good 100 years.. and whose in love with another.

- content warning age gap. nsfw. sh. angst. not really happy endings! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader

spoiler: horrible yearning!

note this is my first piece of work so i hope it’s okay! i love logan sm i had to write something for him — and this is really angsty :) pls ignore if there’s any bad grammar! i’m a bit lazy rn, also with the timeline for this fic i have no idea when im going for. im saying 2000s-2010s just remember its a bit scrambled timeline wise cos i wanted my favs here!🤭 enjoy!

you hated when he was around. you couldn’t stand it anymore. your longing glances to him, the yearning looks you gave him which were never returned and only thrown back into your face when you saw how he was looking at jean the way you looked at him.. it had all been getting too much. at first you acted like it didn’t bother you and part of your school-girl crush deluded brain pretend you were just seeing things but as the weeks / months had passed you realised that was the furthest thing from the truth.

recently you couldn’t even bring yourself to glance at him because it hurt too much and that wasn’t even being dramatic, the aching feeling in your heart wasn’t worth getting a glimpse of his timeless beauty so every time he was around you bit down the urges swallowed your pride and acted as if he was nobody to you, just a good friend. a father figure, a teammate.

it felt rude at first, to you since you were the only one noticing it, how you just stopped all those little things you were doing but you couldn’t help it or stop yourself from being like that because it was too hard to deal with — loving someone so much with all your heart but you knew you couldn’t have them. you hated to admit it but it destroyed you and that little part of you right now was falling into a full blown rage as you sat on the sofa alongside logan and wade — charles, hank, scott and rogue being present in the room too.

“i just don’t get her.” scott said out, repeating the same line over again, still bitching about the fight him and jean had after they all got back from the mission — everyone could hear the screaming and scott’s harsh gaze when he entered the room just confirmed it all and the second,of course, logan asked a question after wade made a snarky comment that set off scott and he hadn’t stopped mansplaining it since.

“yea’ well certain people don’t.” logan gruffly spoke out as y/n couldn’t stop her eyes from moving over to him at his words, feeling a sense of hurt coarse through her like it usually did whenever he spoke about jean or implied her. everyone knew what logan’s comment meant and y/n could see how scott was biting his tongue, clearly pissed off like he always was around logan. for good reason.

the tension only grew worse when scott couldn’t help himself and made a comment right back at him, his eyebrows raised as he stood from his seat. charles attention turning right to scott instead of logan, “and what’s that supposed to mean, asshole?” scott spat out like his words were venom.

rogue rolling her eyes at his words as hank shared a little glance with y/n who was cursing the entire situation in her brain as she couldn’t stop herself from looking at logan — those very same feelings boiling in her body as she saw the way his mouth twitched and his jaw clenched. how protective he was getting over jean, a feeling y/n couldn’t help have been wishing for the past two years of knowing the man he would get like over her — sure in a friends way he might’ve done it before, at least that’s how she saw but it never like this.

y/n swore she could physically feel her heart aching.

“pretty sure you know what that means pal.” logan bit back harshly, his words falling to the same tone as scott’s did as scott scoffed at what he said as he bit back with full frustration as charles clearly wanted to get involved - a little grimance pictured on his face as y/n studied her fathers expression, him clearly knowing what jean meant to logan, as y/n looked away before her dad could catch her staring her eyes falling onto a pissed off scott who downed the drink he had in his hand, placing it on the table.

“she picked me.” was all scott needed to say as the weight in the room shifted heavily on logan’s end as everyone could see the way logan’s face dropped a little, that comment taking the little coy expression he had right away but y/n didn’t even bring herself to look, scott’s eyes taking her in as if he knew what she was feeling in this moment. his eyes meeting her own as y/n felt a lump form her throat — the tightness almost burning — as he tutted at how silent logan was before he walked out the room without another word.

with this the room fell silent. everyone knowing the feelings logan must’ve been harbouring right now, y/n especially, as she glanced over to him not expecting to be met with his brown eyes looking back at her as he took in her expression before he roughly got up without another word — going right over to the door.

chaeles couldn’t help himself as he spoke up firmly the second he watched logan head for the door, “logan—“

“just goin’ for a piss, wheels.” he roughly said back before the door shut right behind him.

“more like a bitchless weaping session.” wade couldn’t help say as he had left the room, hank and rogue not being able to help their little laughs from coming out as y/n bit down on the inside of her cheek limiting the feelings she was experiencing as much as she could before she stood up.

“—i’m going to shower.” y/n said out lowly, her words slipping out quickly as the others nodded or hummed in agreement, wades eyebrows furrowing as he clearly felt he knew more of the situation then the rest did but he kept that to himself.

“take some pics for me!” wade called back to her, earning a little look from charles as hank scoffed in reply.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

that shower was more like watching a re run of singing in the rain which y/n couldn’t help watch the entirety of for no specific reason before she eventually hoped in the shower. the faint sounds of her speakers being heard as she hummed along to the lyrics of the specific song as she felt the cold water glide down her naked body.

swallowing the pain-filled whimpers that were aching to escape her wet lips as she acted as if the water gracing against all those marks and burns on her skin wasn’t killing her inside despite her ‘little’ case of immortality. immortality sadly didn’t mean you never experienced pain and y/n was clearly the leading case proving that matter as she soon got out the shower after washing her hair and her body.

wrapping the towel around her dainty body as she took in herself in the mirror, the thoughts forming in her brain being within the ‘self loathing’ category as she exited her bathroom. her face falling once she was met with the gruff expression on logans face which turned to one of shock as his eyes scanned over y/n immediately. him swallowing his own spit as y/n hands immediately wrapped around her towel just to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

“lo— shit, i didn’t know you were here.” she quickly managed out, her face a bright shade of red as she watched as logan didn’t move his gaze off her figure.

“—wait.” not a single word escaping his lips as y/n walked over to her bed where her clothes were laid out for her.

y/n’s breath was hitched and she swore she felt all the heat rush to her face as she took in the way logan was just staring at her as she grabbed her clothes with her other hand, taking a few steps back into the bathroom before she swiftly shut the door. her mind a mess as she quickly put on her pajamas before she sprung over to the mirror to double check her appearance before she walked back out to her bedroom.

logan being in the exact same place she had left him — not a single word had left his lips and his facial expression was the exact same as y/n nervously smiled at him.

“what are you doing— uh, here?” y/n asked him swiftly, her words rushed as she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she saw logan slowly seem to come back to reality, scratching the back of his neck as his lips parted as he tried to say something.

yet it took a little for something to come out as y/n swore she felt something growing in the air as logan finally spoke, his gruff tone a little knocked back then usual, “was coming here to bitch about scott. didn’t mean to see anything i shouldn’t have.”

his words sent a little chill through y/n’s spine as she managed a little smile on her lips, no matter how fake it was she still managed it, as she looked at him. his first words being all the confirmation her heart needed in this moment as she held back her feelings as she felt her heart tense.

“it’s okay.” y/n rolled out quietly, her attention falling over to her bed as she walked over to the foot off it — sitting down on the edge of the bed as logan stayed in place, his arms crossed as he leaned against the fireplace in her room now.

“so scott, you wanna bitch?” y/n trailed off into as logan looked out the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he shrugged his shoulders.

“nah, not anymore.” he said, his voice low as y/n took in his hush voice — his words only adding to the building up tension that was making the air thick as y/n looked at him. her eyes taking in every inch off him and how he looked, her mind wondering how he’d feel.. how’d he’d taste.

yet her thoughts were immediately cut short.

“—you seen jean about?”

his words were like a harsh hit round the face as she felt a lump for her in throat, her mind tingling a little as she glanced over to the door. she hated this, every inch of this. she wanted to scream, punch him in the face. confess right there and there at him but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

no matter how much it killed her inside. every second without him being like a gun shot to the heart as she plainly looked back at him, a soft smile growing on her face which was so fake it was indescribable as she nodded to her bedroom door.

“her room, i guess.”

her low words were enough to make anyone know she was hurt yet of course logan didn’t, or he didn’t show he knew as he gave her a playful wink.

“thanks bub.” he said with a nod as he went to walk out the room — his hand on the door when y/n heard his muttered words.

“sleep well y/n.”

his words fell into silence as y/n watched him leave, the door closing behind him being the utmost reminder of how her feelings will probably never be acknowledged. and that harsh reality left her alone in her bedroom for the entire night and with every toss and turn her mind was on one thing and one thing only. him.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa. 

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM. 

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths. 

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case. 

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers. 

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther. 

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee. 

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.  

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original."  But you were well used to it by now. 

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

 He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma? 

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be. 

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger. 

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction. 

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet. 

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. 

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

 Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip,  voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark. 

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?" 

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second. 

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension. 

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[satoruxx]

ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader (hinted) | 5k words

✧ SUMMARY: ghost!reader, major character death, jjk manga spoilers, so much angst bc you literally die lmao, longing, mutual pining, suppressed feelings, everyone sucks at love, some fluff, banter, might be slightly suggestive, lots of hinted feelings (read: suguru), arguments, overall this is painful so read if you enjoy angst !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this idea randomly came to me before i went to bed a few days ago and in the spirit of halloween, i figured why not? i live off of angst and need to share the pain with everyone lmao oops. this is late for halloween tho my bad !!

i. 2007

satoru brings one more flower than he did the day before. morning glories again, of course, but an extra one. he had added one more to the the bunch every day since the day you died. the first day, he brought three, wrapped with a cheap blue ribbon that he found in his desk drawer. it was hardly a respectable bouquet, but those three flowers were the ones he'd grown for you, so it only seemed fitting.

he didn't care much for gardening. but one day you asked shoko what her favorite flowers were so you could give her some on valentine's day. she asked you what yours were so she could return the favor.

satoru never forgot morning glories after that day.

he's not even sure if morning glories are appropriate to bring to a grave, but he knows you'd like them.

you would tell him it didn't matter anyway.

ii. 2007

(suguru did not cry when you died. satoru watched, intently, because there was nothing in the universe that his six eyes couldn't catch. he waited for it, even a sliver of emotion that would betray suguru's bleeding heart, but he gave nothing. he just stood in front of the stone that marked the end of your life with a deep stare. something had settled there in his eyes, cold and resolute.

a few months before you died, you had told satoru that there was something wrong with suguru. you said that he'd been distant, somewhere far away, and you worried for him. you always did, so open with your affection for him.

"don't want him to get lost." you had hummed, your shoulder brushing against satoru's as you raise the mango ice pop he brought you to your mouth. satoru watches your lips out of the corner of his eyes, his stomach flipping eagerly even as he keeps his face impassive.

"he said it was just the summer heat," he answers, ignoring the sweet mango juice dripping down his knuckles. "should be nothing."

you don't look all that convinced, turning your head to look up at him with meaningful glance. "you sure?"

he stares at you for a lengthy second, cerulean eyes darting over your facial features, before he reaches up and knocks his knuckle against your forehead. "yeah. he'll be fine." he assures, and your shoulders relax as you continue to eat the ice pop.

you were right about it all. four days after you die, suguru massacres an entire village.)

iii. 2008

satoru shifts in his bed, grunting quietly he begins to stretch his stiff joints. his eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep as he waits for his dark ceiling to come into focus. except it doesn't, because all he can see are a pair of very familiar looking eyes. unsaturated, but still so obviously the color he once knew. his own eyes snap open, all traces of sleep gone as he finally makes out someone who looks exactly like you, perched on his stomach with a confused and slightly panicked expression.

he shoots up, and you pull back a little. it looks like you're on his lap, and yet he can't feel you on him at all. he gulps.

"hey toru." you say quietly, and his stomach drops. the same eyes, the same voice. gods above.

"you're dead," he says simply, trying not to betray the way his pulse is jumping at even the smallest glimpse of you again. "you're not real."

"i'm dead," you confirm, nodding your head as you look down at your translucent palms. "but i'm here somehow."

he sucks in a breath, reaching out a hand as if to touch you. the disappointment he feels when it passes through your form is sickening.

you smile shakily, shrugging your shoulders as you attempt to make light of the situation.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

he stares at you for minutes without saying a word and you stare back, equally silent.

iv. 2007

(nanami had carried your body back, his teeth gritted as his blonde hair fell over his eyes. satoru never brought it up, but he knew that nanami remained bothered by it for the rest of his life. your death was bad timing, especially after they had just lost haibara a few weeks prior.

nanami had no reason to blame himself though. if anything, it was satoru's fault you were gone.

shoko had called him from the infirmary, her voice hard and pinched as she spat out three words: "get down here."

when satoru saw your body, he didn't say a word. just took a few long strides until he was at the table where nanami had placed you down. your eyes were shut, face resting in a way that seemed so unnatural. he opened his mouth to ask shoko something, but felt like he was choking on air, so he stopped himself.

then he grabbed your limp fingers, squeezed them gently. they were still a little warm, but not as warm as you usually run. shoko didn't say anything, just stood there with her hands clenched, short brown hair falling over her dark eyes.

satoru remained there for the next thirty minutes, waiting for you to sit up and laugh at the prank you were no doubt pulling. as if your blood wasn't still dripping all over the table.

shoko was the one who finally pulled a sheet over your body with shaking hands. she didn't look satoru in the eye, and didn't spare a glance when suguru burst into the room ten minutes later.)

v. 2008

it takes satoru a while to get used to the fact that you're not physically there. he has to bite his tongue when he moves to bump your shoulder or flick your forehead only to find that his skin goes right through yours. you always give him that same little rueful smile, and he sighs to himself.

he doesn't make an effort to figure out why you're there. he figures it's similar to how jujutsu users can come back as curses due to strong feelings. when he thinks about it though, guilt lodges itself into his throat, because the first thought he had when he heard you were entering death's door was no, don't you dare die.

every day he wonders if he's the one who cursed you to stay.

you act like it doesn't matter, hovering around him as he busies himself in his empty room. at first you're quiet, as though you've forgotten how to speak to him in your incorporeal form. but then you start asking him questions, and it's one question that satoru dreads to answer that you finally bring up.

"where's suguru?"

he's not stupid. he knows there's more you think of suguru than you've ever revealed. of course you'd want to know. but that doesn't mean he wants to be the one to tell you. you had died with nothing but a good impression of geto suguru. you'd probably died with your feelings for him still intact too.

it'd be selfish of satoru to ruin that.

"nothing, don't worry about it," he dismisses, voice clipped as he busies himself with preparing dinner. he knows that won't deter you.

you huff, moving to hover in his line of sight. you cross your arms as you glare at him seriously, and satoru hates how nostalgic your expression makes him feel. he tongues his cheek before sighing.

"he's gone." satoru answers simply. he tries to keep his tone even but it comes out bitter and strained. he can hear your quiet gasp, and feels your form move closer to him. if you were alive, he'd be able to feel your breath on his skin now.

"what do you mean, gone?"

satoru sighs again, turning to look at you completely. he hated everything about this. "he left school. went crazy. killed a bunch of people, including his parents."

he would've laughed at the comical way your jaw dropped if you didn't look so hurt. you sputter over your words as he picks up his bowl and moves to the table, trailing after him and demanding more information.

he doesn't hesitate to share, because he's always hated keeping secrets from you. you had this uncanny ability to see straight through him, and it never failed to make him feel unsettled. so he tells you everything that happened in the few weeks after you died. suguru leaving, their confrontation in shinjuku, his plans for non-sorcerers. he leaves nothing unsaid.

when he's done, he finally looks at you, trying to gauge your reaction. but you're just staring at his food with a bitter expression, brows pinched and lips pursed. satoru says your name once.

you glance at him, and it's too quick for him to look for any accusation in it. doesn't matter though, because he's ready to own up to his mistakes.

"you were right back then. about suguru." satoru admits quietly, turning to his food. he doesn't want to look at you anymore, because he's scared you'll show him how disappointed you are with him.

you don't say anything in response. but you sit down at the small dining table and watch him eat with soft eyes, one bite at a time. satoru doesn't admit it, but the whole time he imagines that you're gently rubbing his shoulder, and he thinks he hasn't missed you more than in that moment.

vi. 2007

(it was satoru's fault you died. if he hadn't been so selfish, you'd still be next to him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you walked through the streets of tokyo.

you had knocked on his door that morning before you had left for your last mission, rocking on your heels. he opened it groggily, still half asleep.

"you going on a mission?" satoru had yawned, drowsy eyes trailing over your uniform. you nod with a grin.

"mhm, with nanami. there are two separate areas with curses though, so we'll split up when we get there. should be simple enough." you shrug, toying with the collar of your uniform jacket.

satoru decides to be annoying. "then why are you here disturbing my sleep? get out." he groans dramatically, peering at you with narrowed eyes. you smack his arm, scoffing. you've stopped questioning why he keeps his infinity down for you do those things to him.

"i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with," you hiss, crossing your arms defensively. "but i'm taking it back, asshole."

he grins. "what? can't stay away?"

you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sarcastic laugh. "don't flatter yourself."

satoru pauses for a second. "i was gonna go back to sleep." he admits, feeling a little guilty. he had just come back from a mission the night before, and he doesn't feel like leaving again. he doesn't know how to say that to you though.

but you see right through him, like you always do.

"you've been going on missions a lot lately," you smile earnestly, patting his shoulder. "no wonder you're tired."

"'m the strongest, i don't get tired." he protests, crossing his arms with a scoff. you roll your eyes again, sticking your tongue out at him as you heft your weapon over your shoulder.

"keep it up and you're seriously gonna fry your brain or something," you say with a shake of your head, eyes betraying your concern for him. he notices it, and tries to smother down the way it makes his stomach flip. "i'll be fine. you can come on my next mission with me."

fair enough, he thinks. he hadn't gone on missions with you or suguru in a while. he should remember to ask yaga to let him go on your next one. just the two of you. you and him. maybe he'd buy you a mango ice pop on the way back.

"fine." he acquiesces easily, not even thinking to protest. he'll see you later anyway, so he'll talk to you more when you get back.

you smirk a little, motioning to his bedhead, before gently kicking his shin. "go back to sleep then, stupid."

he rolls his eyes, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your forehead like he always does. "whatever. bring me some sweets on your way back, yeah?"

the laugh you give him as he shuts the door is the last thing he ever hears from you.

he should've gone with you.)

vii. 2012

satoru hates the way you're looking at him right now.

it was a stupid little mistake. he had gone to see little megumi and tsumiki earlier that afternoon, and as usual, you had tagged along with him. you'd watched him raise up the two kids over the last few years, never failing to tease about his newly acquired fatherhood, or how much he seemed to care about them despite his efforts to hide it. he didn't ever think to say that you'd helped him raise them up too. even in your incorporeal form you'd always been around to tell him what meals he could prep or to remind him that megumi liked black forest cake for his birthdays.

he'd gotten so used to you being around and he slipped up once. that afternoon when he had walked megumi home from school, teasing and poking fun at the kid, he'd made a stupid joke. megumi had rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.

and then without thinking, satoru had turned to you as you hovered next to him and groaned your name out dramatically before whining, "this kid is so mean to me!"

your eyes widened immediately, and if you were alive he'd probably see the color drain from your face. his stomach had sank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even when megumi glanced at him with a raised brow.

"who are you talking to?" he asked, and satoru gulped, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you to look down at the kid.

"nobody." he had answered.

he tries to ignore the meaningful stare you pin him with for the rest of the afternoon, hoping that you'll just forget about it. but as soon as satoru has left the kids and he's back in his own room, you're on him. he busies himself with making a cup of hot chocolate, even though he feels sick to his stomach.

"satoru you have to figure out how to get rid of me!" you plead, eyes so sad it makes his stomach churn. "i'm gonna drive you insane!"

"i'm fine!" he snaps back, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his mug, the warmth distracting him from whatever it was you were trying to remind him of. he places it down on the table in front of him and crosses his arms defensively. "it was a stupid mistake. won't happen again."

you shimmer in and out of focus, manifesting in front of him with a glare, though your eyes are still the same. wounded and hurt. "it wasn't and you know it! you can't keep living like this. i've been haunting you for years, toru!"

"well who asked you to go ahead and die?!" he yells without thinking, and it's like he sees your hurt bubble forth in slow motion.

"i went and died because i made a stupid mistake on a mission! quit blaming yourself, you dumbass!" you shout, voice raised higher than he's ever heard it.

satoru's mug shatters against the wall.

the two of you immediately turn to look at the mess with wide eyes, before slowly turning to each other to ensure that it really did happen.

"how'd you do that?" satoru asks quietly, his voice strained as he takes a few long strides towards you. you look down at your hand, the same one that you had lifted to swipe at his mug during your fit of rage. you look back up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. satoru's head is pounding, some kind of sick hope stirring within him. "you had to have touched it."

"i don't…" you trail off, voice filled with awe and a bit of fear. satoru reaches up a hand, ignoring the tremble in it, and moves to touch your face. he will never admit to the amount of times he begs in his head, please please please.

his hand goes straight though your skin, and your eyes soften. satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, hiding his disappointment as he takes a step back and turns away.

viii. 2006

(satoru thinks gardening is ridiculous. plants are so fragile, needing to be constantly monitored and cared for like children. he can't understand why anyone would choose to garden as a hobby when there were less stressful things to do in spare time.

even the process was time consuming, he realizes as he scoops out piles of dirt into the small pots he had set out on his windowsill.

he thinks back to the silly little grin you had on your face as you answered shoko's question.

"morning glory," you had said, leaning against her shoulder. "i like the way they open in the morning and close at night."

shoko hummed, staring at the sky even as satoru quietly eavesdropped. "you got a favorite color?"

"the blue ones," you answered. "they're the prettiest."

your voice echoes in his head as he places the seeds into the soil, and he sighs heavily. why he was doing this for you was beyond him.

the thought makes him annoyed, and he huffs in frustration the entire time he plants them. gardening had to be the stupidest hobby ever.

and yet when three blue morning glories bloom against his windowsill, he can't hold back his grin.)

ix. 2017

satoru's grateful that you don't watch him kill suguru.

he tells you to go, and you give suguru a long stare, face pinched and sour even though your translucent eyes are shining. it's a shame suguru can't see you though, because satoru thinks you look so pretty. suguru would've been lucky to have you be the last thing he ever saw.

you turn away and disappear without a word, and after one last exchange, satoru finishes the job.

it's only after he watches rika's final goodbye to yuta does he realize the extent of what a goodbye even means. he'd said one to suguru, and yet he can't help but miss him as he walks back home. he wonders if suguru wouldn't have had to die if you were still around.

satoru had never gotten a goodbye with you though. you're somehow still with him, but he misses you so much. it puts an ugly feeling in his gut, twisted and dark. it weighs down on his shoulders as he finally opens the door to his room, heavy and overwhelming as he sees you sitting on his bed, face vacant.

he says your name, and you don't move. he takes a seat next to you, and something about your sad expression makes him so unbelievably angry.

"quit being sad about it," he finally spits out, the truthful extent of his feelings coming out. "it's not like you're even alive that you'd be able to see him."

you scoff as you give him a sidelong glare. "what's that supposed to mean? one of my closest friends just died and you expect me not to be upset about it?"

"at least he'll find a way to you!" satoru hisses, clenching his fists so hard that his nails leave crescents in his skin. "you two can have fun together for all of eternity."

there's a tense silence that follows as he grits his teeth, turning away from you. he's so disgusted right now. with suguru, with you, with himself.

"i'm all by myself." satoru mutters bitterly, the words so foreign on his tongue as the truth hits him.

god he misses you so much.

he suddenly feels a sharp thwack on the back of his head and he's turning around with wide eyes.

"don't you dare forget about shoko!" you hiss, tears in your eyes as you glare at him, hand raised. "i'll never forgive you!"

his throat goes dry, because the smack you just gave him was the first time you'd touched him since the day you died. there's a storm in his throat that threatens to break free, but he tries to keep it lodged in his throat. even with your teary eyes, he thinks you look just as pretty as you did with life flowing through you.

he misses suguru. he knows you do too, because there are translucent tears dripping down your cheeks and he has never ached to touch you more. but he can't because you're dead.

you remain in front of him all night, barely saying a word in between your sniffles. he doesn't say anything either, just watching you.

he doesn't know what there is to say. the only thing he ever wishes he got to say to you was goodbye. but you're here, in front of him, so a goodbye seems pointless.

when the sun comes up, you wish him a merry christmas, and he swears you never left him.

satoru says it back to you. you smile sadly.

he misses you so much.

x. 2007

(satoru had cleaned out your dorm room three days after you died.

he didn't really understand why he was doing it so early. shoko had frowned when he told her that he planned to pack away your things, frowned in a way that made her look like she disagreed.

well even if she did disagree, it didn't stop her from sitting in your desk chair, chewing on her nail quietly as she watched satoru fold your clothes. he didn't even understand why he was doing this.

maybe it was because every time he walked past your empty dorm room he felt sick to his stomach. there was a twisting feeling in his gut when he realized that you'd never curl up in that bed again. never sit by the window with a grin watching him and suguru bicker as they threw playing cards on the floor. he figured the faster he got rid of your remnants, the quicker the feeling would go away.

that's what he's hoping anyway. but when he picks up your jujutsu uniform he feels something claw at his throat, and he unconsciously digs his fingers into the fabric. he hears a sigh from behind him and then shoko is at his side, wordlessly easing the cloth from his hand. she lays it on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding it carefully. when she places it into the box, satoru thinks her hands shake a bit.

there's a bitter expression on shoko's face that he's never seen before, and it makes his stomach twist.

they work on your room for the next few hours, until the sun has disappeared behind the horizon and the cool evening breeze bullies its way into your old space. neither of them say anything, save for the occasional nostalgic hum as they remember something that you did or they're reminded of the story behind one of the trinkets in your room. otherwise it's silent, and for a second satoru feels like he can hear your laugh.

it isn't until night has completely fallen that they are interrupted.

"what are you doing?"

satoru turns around just as shoko looks up, both of them finding suguru standing in the doorway. he hadn't taken a step in yet, eyes still trailing over the emptiness of your old room from behind an uncrossed line.

"cleaning." satoru answers, his voice oddly clipped.

"it wasn't messy…" suguru mutters back, his lips slanting in such an unusual way. there was an uncharacteristically determined look in his eyes, as though there was something in him that was struggling to burst forth. satoru didn't understand what it was.

"never said it was." satoru replies noncommittally. he hears shoko inhale deeply, shifting in your old chair as she watches the two of them stare at each other. there's a tense silence as he notices suguru frown.

satoru can't remember the last time he even had a full conversation with suguru. he remembers seeing you leave for your last mission, and he wants to kick himself for not asking earlier to be sent on group missions with the two of you.

even now, he doesn't really know what to say to suguru. all he can do is tighten his fingers around the edge of the box with your stuff neatly packed in, and watch his best friend sigh.

suguru wets his lips, eyes darting over your desk. there's an odd expression on his face, and his brows pinch as he notices something. then suguru reaches out to pick up an old polaroid, and satoru knows exactly which one it is. your arms slung around suguru's shoulders, smile so wide your cheeks probably hurt. suguru's expression was uncharacteristically gentle.

satoru remembers it so well, because he's the one who took the picture.

suguru looks at the polaroid without a word, rubbing the corner between his thumb and forefinger, and his expression suddenly mirrors the gentleness in the picture. his eyes remain stormy, deep and unsettling as he reaches conclusions that satoru will never understand.

the three of them stay quiet for a few minutes, even though satoru has so many questions that he can't figure out how to phrase. shoko toys with a cigarette between her lips, leaving it unlit because you've always hated the smell of smoke. suguru just stands there, silently eyeing your unfiltered smile through the lens of a camera.

satoru wonders if suguru's trying to say goodbye to you. he doesn't ask, and suguru doesn't say.

only after something had clicked in suguru's eyes, did satoru realize something was over. he couldn't help but feel like he had just buried you in that cardboard box with all your things, and he swallows hard.

then suguru clenches his fists, veins flexing as he looks around your room, almost like he was committing it to memory. satoru didn't understand why; it's not like suguru couldn't come see your room anytime he wanted.

then he turns away, hand lingering on the doorframe heavily, without another word.

just as suguru walks away, satoru thinks he hears your voice whispering in his ear.

"don't want him to get lost."

xi. 2018

something is wrong. something happened. something is wrong.

satoru knows he needs to wake up. but he's so tired, so exhausted from carrying on all by himself. he suddenly remembers the taste of frozen mango, sweet and chilled, and he wants to keep thinking about it for the rest of eternity.

but something is wong. he needs to wake up.

the minute satoru forces his eyes open, he can ignore the taste of blood in his mouth because you're there.

you're kneeling at his side, sunlight shining behind your head in a way that makes you look almost angelic. he'd believe it if you said you were an angel, because you've been dead for so long now.

you'd been a ghost for so many years, hovering around him and getting him through everything that had come his way. isn't that what guardian angels were supposed to do, guiding humans through their own trials? isn't that what you were doing to him since the day you died and came back to him?

you'd been a ghost. you'd been his angel. you'd been haunting him.

you'll always haunt him.

you seem to know it too, because the expression on your face is understanding, soft and yet so sad.

for what seems like the millionth time in his life, satoru aches to touch you.

he tries to move his hand but finds that he can't. synapses misfire. he can't feel his body anymore.

he wants to touch you. gods above, he wants to touch you so badly. please just this one last wish.

your translucent forms shimmers in the sunlight, and satoru can't tell if he's hallucinating or not because you suddenly seem to become fully physical. the particles of your form solidify, slowly filling with more color until you don't look quite so dilute. the saturation of your eye color comes back, and satoru can't look away because he's never seen a ghost so pretty before.

his breath hitches as you gently cup his cheek in your palm, warm and gentle. the melancholic look on your face makes his eyes sting.

"it's good to see you." he says with a weak smile, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. his breath is short, mind racing because your skin is on his again. finally, after so many years. you're so soft, just like he remembers.

"you weren't supposed to join me this quick." you sigh, eyes shining as you smile down at him ruefully. your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and satoru's cerulean eyes flutter.

no. no more waiting. he'd missed you too much. he doesn't have it in him to stay away from you anymore. he'd done it long enough. your fingers tremble against his skin and he almost laughs.

no more haunting.

there's a resolute part of him that knows you'll be the first thing he sees when he gets to wake up again. he decides that, when he does, he'll get you a mango ice pop and plant some morning glories with you.

his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

[pucksandpower]

Don’t Touch Her

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety after the unthinkable almost happens during a night out

Warnings: spiked drink, attempted SA, descriptions of seizure, hospitalization, and the implied murder of a minor character

You sway your hips to the pulsing beat, the colorful lights of the club flashing across your skin. Lando’s hands rest lightly on your waist, guiding you to the music. You lean into him, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat in the humid air.

“I’m parched,” you say, turning to face him. “Want me to grab you a drink?”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can get them, love. You keep dancing.”

You shake your head, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway. Same as usual?”

“Please. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You make your way through the crowded dance floor, weaving around gyrating bodies and flailing limbs. The bar is packed, patrons jostling for the bartenders’ attention. You manage to wedge yourself into a tiny gap, shouting your order over the commotion.

While waiting for the drinks, you check your phone. A few missed texts from friends, asking where you are. You fire back quick responses before pocketing the device just as the bartender slides two glasses toward you.

Vodka cranberry for you, rum and coke for Lando. You pass over a few bills, waving away the change, and turn to head back to the dance floor.

You take a long sip of your drink as you walk, the bubbly sweetness refreshing after all that dancing.

Lando is easy to spot, standing out due to the size of the crowd surrounding him. He smiles when he sees you coming, his whole face lighting up. Your heart flutters at the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room.

You’re halfway to him when the first wave of dizziness hits. You stumble, drinks sloshing over your hands. Sudden nausea swirls in your gut. The room starts to spin, lights blurring into a kaleidoscope.

“Hey ...” You blink hard, trying to clear the fog creeping over your thoughts. “I don’t … feel so good.”

The glasses slide from your grip, shattering on the floor. You try to take a step toward Lando and the ground rushes up to meet you. Strong hands grab your arms, keeping you from collapsing completely.

“Whoa there, looks like someone started the party a little early.” The voice is unfamiliar, masculine with a hint of mocking laughter. You try to pull away but your limbs feel like lead.

“No, I ...” You shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. Through your dimming vision you can see Lando pushing through the crowd, his eyes wide.

“C’mon, there’s a back door this way. Let’s get you some air.” The man starts to guide you away, arms wrapped around your shoulders. Panic shoots through you and you try again to wrench yourself free, but it’s useless.

The cold night air hits you as the door swings open. The alley swims before you, dingy bricks and overflowing dumpsters. The man keeps walking, bearing you along while your weak protests fall on deaf ears.

Fear claws at your insides. You catch a glimpse of streetlights at the other end of the alley before he steers you into the shadows halfway down.

“S-stop,” you mumble, tongue heavy in your mouth. He just chuckles, pressing you against the brick wall.

“Shh, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” His hand squeezes your thigh, rucking up your dress. Somewhere in the recesses of your fading mind, terror shrieks at you to fight, to run, but your traitorous body refuses to respond.

As the man leans in, the alley floods with light. Heavy footsteps pound on the pavement.

“Get your hands off her!” Lando’s voice booms with more fury than you’ve ever heard from him. The man holding you whirls around just as Lando’s fist connects with his jaw. He reels back with a cry, grip loosening. Lando catches you before you can slide to the ground.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you.” His touch is infinitely gentle compared to the bruising hold of the stranger. He strokes your hair back from your face, eyes searching yours. “Can you hear me, love?”

You try to respond but only manage a faint whimper. Lando swears under his breath. Scooping you into his arms, he carries you swiftly from the alley. You press your face to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline as he strides toward the street. Each jostling step sends the world spinning again.

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Lando lowers you onto a bench outside the club, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Talk to me, please. What’s happening?”

You lick your dry lips, forcing words out with monumental effort. “Dizzy … everything … blurry ...”

Lando’s face creases with worry. He pulls out his phone to dial for help, but pauses when you suddenly convulse, muscles seizing. Your back arches, head slamming against the hard bench.

“Shit! Hold on, I’ve got you.” Lando slides his hand under your head, cradling it gently as the seizure wracks your body. Tears stream down his face as he murmurs soothing words, helpless to do anything but wait it out.

After endless moments, the convulsions stop. You go limp, gasping raggedly. The world fades in and out of focus, Lando’s anguished face floating above you.

“Please, baby, stay with me,” he begs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “The ambulance will be here any second.”

You try to respond but darkness crowds the edges of your vision. The last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness is Lando bent over you, shoulders shaking with sobs as he clutches your motionless hand.

***

Beeping.

Hushed voices.

The astringent scent of disinfectant.

You drift somewhere between waking and oblivion, grasping at fractured memories.

Lando’s face, streaked with tears.

Dancing bodies.

Pulsing lights.

The weight of unwanted hands, dragging you into the shadows.

With a sharp inhale, your eyes fly open. You’re in a hospital room, IV line taped to the back of your hand. Pale morning light filters through the blinds. The beeping comes from a monitor tracking your heartbeat.

“Hey.” Lando sits in a chair beside the bed, leaning forward when he sees you’re awake. His eyes are rimmed with red, hair disheveled. “How are you feeling?”

You try to speak but your throat is painfully dry. Lando grabs a cup of water, angling the straw so you can sip. The cool liquid soothes like a balm, washing away the cottony feeling in your mouth.

“What … what happened?” You rasp out finally.

Lando’s expression turns grim. “Someone drugged you at the club. Probably targeting an easy robbery, but ...” His jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. “If I had been even a few seconds later, he would have ...”

Unable to finish the thought, Lando buries his face in his hands. His shoulders tremble. Your heart aches, and you reach out to comb gentle fingers through his hair.

“But you weren’t,” you say softly. “You saved me.”

He looks up, eyes shining wetly. “I never should have let you out of my sight. If I lost you ...” His breath hitches, raw anguish written across his face.

“Hey, no.” You catch his hand, squeezing firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. You found me in time. That’s all that matters.”

Fresh tears spill down Lando’s cheeks. He brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a trembling kiss to your knuckles.

“I was so scared,” he chokes out. “Seeing you like that, helpless, shaking ...” He clenches his jaw, looking away. “And not being able to do anything. Just having to watch ...”

He breaks off with a shuddering breath. You tug gently on his hand, urging him up from the chair. He perches on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in his tender arms. You cling to each other, tears mingling as the enormity of what almost happened sinks in.

After long moments, Lando pulls back to cup your face in both hands. He searches your eyes, still flooded with relief and lingering fear.

“I could have lost you,” he repeats in a shattered whisper.

You cover his hands with your own. “But you didn’t. I’m right here. With you.”

His breath leaves him a rush, the frightened tension easing from his frame. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours. The beeping monitor and distant hospital noises fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this quiet intimacy.

When Lando finally lifts his head, the fire in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he says, low and fervent.

You meet Lando’s intense gaze, equally overcome by emotion.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

He cradles your face again, thumbs sweeping feather-light over your cheeks. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s soft yet saturates you with his passion, fear, relief — every shade of the feelings coursing between you in this moment. You sink into it, hands coming up to twist in his rumpled shirt, keeping him close.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. Lando smooths your hair, regret pinching his features.

“I should let you rest. The doctor said you’ll probably feel weak and foggy for a few days.”

You give a small shrug. “I don’t feel that bad right now. Just … stay with me?”

He smiles softly. “Of course, love.”

Settling next to you on top of the sheets, he loops an arm around your shoulders. You nestle against him, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. For a long moment, you simply savor being wrapped in this bubble of solace.

“Do they know who did it yet?” You finally ask, unable to quell your lingering unease about the attack.

Lando shakes his head. “The police looked at security footage but the guy’s face wasn’t visible. They’re still investigating.”

You nod, chewing your lip. Lando tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I won’t let him get away with this,” he says, quiet but fierce. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find him and make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

There’s cold fury underlying his tone that you’ve never heard from him before. It reminds you viscerally of that brief glimpse in the alley — Lando transformed in the heat of protective rage.

But now the fire in his eyes is fanned and smoldering. A determination that won’t relent.

He tightens his arm around you, pressing his lips to your hair. You settle against his chest again, comforted by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

***

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Lando, a movie playing quietly in the background. You’re mostly zoning out, still feeling residual exhaustion. Lando plays idly with your hair, a comforting sensation.

When your phone buzzes with an alert, you grab it lazily, expecting a text from a friend. Instead, a news headline makes you bolt upright.

Lando notices your change in demeanor.

“What is it, love?”

“That man, the one from the club … he was found dead. I would recognize his face anywhere.”

You continue to scan the article. “Doesn’t specify much, just that he was found in an abandoned building across town. Ruled a homicide but no suspects or motive yet.”

You wordlessly tilt the phone screen for him to see. He looks at it blankly, face impassive.

“Oh. Well, perhaps some justice has been served after all.”

You narrow your eyes at his mild tone. “Did you ...”

“Did I what?”

“Have something to do with this?”

Lando presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Me? Now why would you think that?”

“Lando.” You level him with a knowing look. “Did you?”

He meets your gaze steadily for a moment before sighing. “I told you I’d make sure he never hurt anyone again. A man like that doesn’t deserve to keep stealing breaths.”

You absorb this, unsure how to feel. “So you ...”

“I didn’t personally do anything,” Lando hedges. “But I have … connections. People who know people who can handle things quietly.”

You bite your lip. “You had him killed.”

Lando takes your hands in his. “Hey. Look at me. That bastard drugged you, dragged you into an alley. He would have ...” His jaw flexes. “I did what needed to be done to keep you and others safe.”

“I just ...” You wrestle with your conflicted emotions. “I don’t know how I feel about you essentially ordering a hit.”

He drags a hand over his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is low and controlled. “All that matters is he can’t hurt you or anyone else now. Try to remember what he did to you — how you felt. Helpless. Frightened. I wasn’t about to let him continue terrorizing women.”

You take a shaky breath. “No, you’re right. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around.”

Lando caresses your cheek. “You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know. But some people are simply too dangerous to be allowed to go on hurting people. I don’t take this lightly, but there are times when permanent solutions are necessary. Do you understand?”

Up close, you can see the storm of emotions he’s battling to contain. Anger, satisfaction, hints of doubt and guilt. You cup his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For protecting me, even if it meant ...”

Lando closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I would do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.” His thumb strokes along your jaw. “You never have to worry. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, no matter what.”

His voice rings with quiet conviction. You cover his hand with your own, meeting his solemn gaze. In this moment, you truly comprehend the depths he’s willing to go for you.

“I know you will,” you whisper. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Lando searches your face, shoulders losing their rigid tension when he finds only acceptance and gratitude shining back at him.

“I would be lost without you,” he murmurs.

You lean in, kissing him softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Drawing back, you offer a tiny smirk. “And clearly, I should never get on your bad side.”

Lando huffs a surprised laugh. The lingering shadows in his eyes fade as he pulls you close. You sink into his embrace, heartbeat steadying against his.

Whatever lengths Lando went to in order to protect you, to remove the threat hanging over your regained sense of safety, you know you’ll forever be thankful for this devoted, fierce, and tender-hearted man you love.

[kiyokowastaken]

A Piece Of Heaven.

James Sunderland x Female Reader.

Minors Don't Interact!!!

CW: fingering, overstimulating, p in v (no protection), hair pulling/tugging, blowjob, babying a middle aged, miserable man, dirty talk, OOC James, porn with plot, age gap (reader is in her early twenties while James is in his mid-thirties), tit sucking, creampie, dom!James, oral (male and female receiving and giving, face f*cking, James has a breeding kink.

Summary: After partnering up with James and Maria, you could see the dynamic between them. A beautiful blonde vixen flirting with a miserable and pathetic man in search of his supposedly dead wife. Feeling a bit jealous of the interaction between them, you decided to climb the roof of the hotel to watch whatever of the sky that you can but you’re interrupted by someone.

This isn’t revised so excuse any misspelling or grammar mistakes! I was also inspired by another amazing James Sunderland x Reader writer named sundrlands so check them out!!

Enjoy loves ^^!

The fucking fog.

How come in some areas it’s dense as fuck but now when you need the fog to be dense, it’s not. You saw the blonde haired woman named, Maria latching onto James’s arms as if she couldn’t hold her own. You knew that the male was far too awkward to say anything about it, so he merely just let it be. You looked around the area, it seemed not as rundown and ruined as the other places that you guys have encountered, you caught a glimpse of a flower shop and your interest was piqued to say the least.

You jogged over to the small shop as James was looking down at the map trying to figure out where the hotel was as Maria was merely talking his ear off. You were pleasantly surprised when the flowers looked to be alive, they were still blooming in such a terrible condition. Your fingertips reached out and graced the soft petals of a Lily, the beautiful flower slightly moved by your touch before it got covered by a shadow.

You turned around to see James, which caused you to take a few steps back. His cologne was faint yet lingered around him, he smelled like clean laundry with a hint of a musky yet woody scent, the kinda smell that when you hugged someone you would try and take another whiff, “Uh..I figured out the way to the hotel, we would get there in a couple of more minutes..” The blonde haired man would mumble.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as you looked back at the blossomed flower, “You speak as if I’m going to snap back at you.” James merely flushed a bit at your comment as it took him a moment to think about his next choice of words. He always seemed to do that, instead of other people who just spoke their minds without considering what others might say.

James was the opposite, it’s like he handcrafted his response for you, yet he still fell short, “I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked peaceful over here in your own world.” He hummed out as he looked down at the flowers before he reached out and tried to stroke the flower but it seemed that he lacked a certain softness to his touch.

The very Lily that you once caressed so tenderly and gently, lost a petal once James touched it. James seemed a little disheartened as the sad look on his face that he always had seemed a bit more sadder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched it, it seems like whenever I touch things they always end u-..” You stopped James’s sad monologue as with a bit of confidence, you grabbed his hand with your own and gently moved over to a flower, a budding bushel of Heathers.

You guide his hand and with a gentle brush of both hands, the bushel waves gently before you pulled your hand away with a small smile as you turned to look at the taller male, “Don’t always be pessimistic James, you have a gentleness to you. You just need to be patient, now come on, Maria is waiting for you.” You said with a slight bitter tone that James seemed to catch before his soft yet gruff voice said, “You mean, us, she’s waiting for us.” To which, you merely nodded before walking back with James.

A few minutes turned to a hour and the sweet moment between you and James had seemed to dissipate into thin air. Maria was once again walking side by side with James, their hands occasionally brushed against each other more than they should. At one point, Maria mentioned how cold she was which caused James to pause before he tugged off his military jacket and held it out for her which she graciously took and slipped on. You, in the meanwhile just scoffed, how unbelievable. James was merely being a gentleman and gave the women his jacket, so she wouldn’t freeze to death and here you were acting like it was the worst betrayal of your life. I mean, it stung a bit, you asked James to borrow his jacket during a moment of rest since the room you guys were in was cold to which he merely just got up and went through the hassle of finding a semi-clean blanket and handing it to you.

You merely just looked around at whatever you could in the surrounding scenery as the fog began to slowly disappear. You looked back to see the hotel, it was small but it was near an embankment of water which gave it a nice appeal. You guys got closer and before you guys knew it, you guys separated off into your own rooms. James got the room in the middle while you and Maria got the right and left rooms next to his.

Once, James got his jacket back from Maria, you all settled into your own rooms for the night. It was a delightful surprise when the water still ran through the pipes of this hotel, it was clean water as well. You stripped out of your clothes and turned the warm water on as once your body stepped into the warmth, it melted away any stress that you had away. You guys had battled all sorts of weird ass monsters coming to this hotel, so this was refreshing to say the least. You cleaned off the grim, sweat, and the blood off your body before getting out and changing back into your clothes.

They were a bit dirty but nothing too bad, you then debated into taking a nap or just roaming around the hotel. You guys could probably stock up on whatever you needed to finish this fucked up adventure so without a second thought, you grasped the handle of the door opened it before stepping outside into the fresh night breeze. Silent Hill looked less scary when it was night, the fog almost seemed lifted and the surroundings were now noticeable.

You turned towards James’s door to see him talking with Maria as they both leaned against the iron railing. You squinted a bit and you found yourself a bit shocked to see a small smile on his face, you had more than enough seeing the two of them together so you turned on your heel and walked to the opposite side. You looked through the few rooms that were accessible and grabbed some bandages and couple of food supplies before you found a latter up to the roof of the hotel.

You shrugged before you grabbed ahold of the latter and started to climb your way up to the room. Once on top of the roof, you let out a deep sigh as the air felt fresher up here. The cold wind stung your warm skin and blew through your slightly damp hair before you found yourself sitting on top of the roof. It was comfortable, the concrete of the roof was smooth enough to not be uncomfortable as you laid back and looked up at the sky and for once in Silent Hill, you felt at peace.

You closed your eyes for a moment as the wind blew small strands of your hair away from your face, you slowly reopened your eyes and the moon was bathing everything in its moonlight, including yourself. You looked serene, downright ethereal to James as he finally found you, he was getting worried once he searched your room and every other room that you already ransacked and didn’t find you.

He took a deep breath air before releasing it as he could now be calm. A few minutes ago, he was talking to Maria, the woman was good company. She was cocky, confident, and a downright temptress but he had enough of those types of women in his younger years. The attention was nice but you caught his eye, he really shouldn’t even be considering anyone when he’s looking for his wife, yet you graced him with patience, a loving and gentle touch, and the way your eyes always seem to shine a bit more brighter whenever he talked to you made him feel..good. Mary, they had their arguments and yet, they loved each other but somewhere along the way the glimmer in her eyes and the way she looked at James, it no longer felt like home. Yet, here he was searching for her after three years of her supposed death.

James saw you staring up at the sky and found himself also in awe at how beautiful the stars shined. He then cleared his throat as he saw you perk up as if he had frightened you, “Sorry..I didn’t mean to scare you, I just got worried when I didn’t find you in your room.” He said softly, as he walked a bit more closer before he found himself sitting down a bit away from you as he didn’t want to invade your space. “Are you okay..? I mean, obviously we aren’t since we are stuck in this hellhole but you seem to become a bit more reserved.” James said as his eyes glanced at you before looking elsewhere.

A silence followed afterwards and it seemed to eat at James, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

You let out a huff as you turned your body to fully look at James, “Are you something with Maria?” You rebutted with a question of your own. James was stunned at the question as he felt a red flush settle at the tips of his ears as he shook his head, “Me and Maria..we are just uh..good acquaintances. That’s all..” He stumbled out as your eyes hyper focused at his small movements and gestures.

“Then..why don’t you act the same way with me? You found Maria and me at the same place, we have been traveling together for a while now and yet, it seems like..you dislike me.” You muttered out before peeling your eyes away from James. James didn’t mean to make you feel that type of way, he didn’t mean to make you feel isolated from your small little group. This place was already isolating as it is.

“I-..I’m sorry, it’s just that..well I find myself feeling some kind of way whenever I’m near you and I don’t want that to affect us, it’s difficult to explain.” You could see James in the corner of your vision, he was rubbing the back of his neck. A bubble of confidence or maybe the way the moonlight reflected on James’s eyes made him seem all the more pathetic. You patted your lap as you looked at him for a split moment, “We have all the time in the world right now, explain this feeling to me, please.”

James looked at your lap that you patted before looking up at you, he felt like if he gave in to you, he would betray Mary. He did all of this for her. He reprimanded himself for feeling a warm feeling whenever you guys even locked eyes for a split moment. Yet, a part of him craved comfort, he wished to be adored again. He wished soft hands cradled his worn and tired face and pressed soft kisses against it. Mary once did that before the damned illness took her.

He moved closer to you and placed his head on your plush thighs and closed his eyes.

Warmth.

That’s what you gave off, the scent of a sweet yet citrus scent clung onto you and your clothes. He tensed up when he felt your hands on him. One on his chest and the other one scratched his scalp and he battled to hold back a soft groan. Sinful. This was utterly sinful. He was still married to Mary, he loved his wife, yet why did he turn around and push his face onto your stomach as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled him close.

“J-..James..!” You stuttered out as the touch to you was foreign. You had have past lovers and loved every single one but none of them made you feel the way James did. The older man, he made a part of you want to baby him..protect him and care for him. He could provide for himself yet to your mind that didn’t matter.

“You make me feel warm, you make me forget about Mary. It feels so wrong. I’m here for her..and yet, your arms have felt more like home than hers ever did..and I feel guilty for such thought.”

Those words that James muttered out against your stomach made your face burn unlike any other. You didn’t know how to respond as you felt him take a deep inhale and then exhale, he felt more relaxed..guess that was eating at him for a while now. Your hand merely slid from his chest towards his back and rubbed his back as she sighed.

“You don’t have to feel guilty James..I also feel the same, I just didn’t know that you felt like I did. You always seemed reserved towards me, so I just thought I made you uncomfortable for something like that.” You felt James shift before you removed your hands from him as he sat up. He was fairly close now. You could smell him just like you did in the flower shop.

“..As I stated before, I’m not uncomfortable with you. I will feel terrible if you got mixed up with someone like me, (Y/N). You’re kind, sweet, warm, patient, and just everything that I’m not. I still have this whole Mary thing to resolve. We still need to get out of here and..I’m a bit older than you. You’re barely enjoying yourself, I’m already past my prime.” James said with a soft chuckle leaving his lips. God, that chuckle..it felt like a drug. You wanted more of that.

“You should stop putting yourself down, you’re terrible at even finding a good thing about yourself, James. You have this softness in you, I can see it. It’s just hidden by troubles, nothing that a little patience and talking can’t undo and about the whole age thing. Do you really think I care? We have gone against unexplained beings and you think an age gap is what’s gonna scare me off?” You rebutted with an eye roll as James raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like your men older?”

The silence that followed was all consuming, you cleared your throat as you puffed up your chest a bit as you nodded, “Well, yes but not senile old.” This seemed to make James laugh as he turned his face away from you as his body shook with his laughter.

“So, do I fit into your criteria?” James asked as his normally reserved and cold demeanor changed slightly. It had a hint of flirtatiousness and genuine curiosity. “I mean, yeah, you do.” You said as you couldn’t help but notice him moving closer.

A sudden change in the air happened, it was noticeable. He hummed as he looked at your eyes and then down to your lips, he wanted to kiss them so badly. It was almost downright painful how much he craved to brush his lips against yours. You could feel his eyes, you almost felt naked in his stare. It felt like he was undressing you.

“Jam-..”

“Can I kiss you?”

Did you fall asleep on the roof of the hotel and now your mind was conjuring up some wet dream about the male you have been lusting over? No, this felt real. He felt real. The warmth he radiated was real. You could only nod before he leaned in close and looked into your eyes with his beautiful, enchanting blue-grey eyes, “I need you to say yes or no.”

You felt your heart beating quickly, he was close, his slow exhale of breath. You could feel it against your lips before you opened your mouth, “Yes..please.”James let out a soft and quick breathy laugh before he placed one of his hands on your neck and pulled you into the kiss. His other hand was placed on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You couldn’t hide the slip of a soft whine tumble out of your lips.

Heavenly. That’s what James felt right now. If Silent Hill was his own personal hell then you must be his personal heaven. The hand that held your neck slowly slipped upwards towards your jaw as he held it. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip as to ask for entrance.

James acted different. This wasn’t the same man that seemed to dislike small talk or any time of human connection if it didn’t regard Mary. You might’ve unleashed a animal, a hidden side of him that you only caught glimpses at whenever he swung that metal pipe and aimed at those twisted creatures before pulling the trigger without hesitation. You opened your mouth, a tad bit but that was enough for James to slip his wet tongue into your mouth. Your arms that were once by your side slipped upwards to grasp at his faded, forest green military jacket as a anchor. Your own tongue shyly met his in a heated and sultry dance. The kiss that was supposed to be somewhat sweet became needy and sloppy.

He tilted his head to the side as his hand that was on your waist slipped down and underneath your shirt as his calloused and rough hands grasped your body as if to reassure himself that you weren’t going to slip away. That you weren’t a figment of his imagination. You were real.

The two pulled away from the kiss as a line of saliva was the only evidence of the hot and heavy kiss. James’s hand that was on your jaw slid upwards and wiped your bottom lip as the string of saliva was no longer there. The air was charged with sexual tension, it was no longer awkwardness and stepping on eggshells. It was filled with lust, need, and want.

“I need you..I want you but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want too.” James said between small soft pants as he tried to regain his steady breathing. Your eyes were hazy, in your mind, you only wanted him. You craved him. You have held back for a while and now the man that you craved, he craved you back.

“I need you as well, James Sunderland.”

Those words sealed your fate. Now, here you were, your shirt and light jacket thrown on the floor of James’s hotel room. Soft moans and pants filled the room as James left dark purplish red marks on your neck and collarbone. How you were going to explain these marks to Maria tomorrow, well, that was a problem for tomorrow. James was set on marking your skin up, claim it as his. To claim you and mark you as his woman.

His tongue licked and traced from your collarbone down the valley of your breasts. He placed a couple of sloppy kisses there as his mouth traveled to your right breast as he attached his lips around your harden bud. His tongue swirled around it as he started to suckle on your breast. His hand ran up your body and groped your left breast, his thumb and middle finger pinched and tugged on your nipple as one of your hands grasped the bedsheets and the other hand tried to muffle your moans and gasps.

Your body was soft, warm, and inviting to James. He felt like he was tainting you with all of his sinfulness, he didn’t want to damn you but at the same time. He grasped onto you as if you were his salvation and maybe, you were. His angel, his pretty girl..he wanted to leave you a beautiful mess. His teeth softly teased your nipple that was on his mouth before he pulled away with a lewd ‘pop’. Your expression was his favorite thing, yet he disliked you hiding your face.

“Don’t hide your face sweetheart, I want to see you for who you are, please.” He said as he locked eyes with yours as his mouth wrapped around your left nipple as his right hand slid up your body to tug and pinch your spit ridden nipple. He gave the same treatment to your left nipple until he felt satisfied with himself. After that, he left a couple more love marks on your chest just to make sure as pulled away from your shivering body.

“May I?” He said as he eyed your pants as you nodded as your hands slid down to unbutton and unzip your pants so that he didn’t need to struggle as much. His hands then grabbed the hem on your pants and panties before he tugged them down in one fluid motions. The need to cover your intimate area was strong as your hand slipped between your thighs to cover your slicked cunt. James found that cute, he dropped your pants and panties on the ground before his attention returned to you.

He grasped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he made you sit up as he got on his knees. He wanted to taste you, badly. He looked up at you for a sign of hesitation before you nodded once again in consent as his hands prided your thighs open. He felt himself salivate when he saw your cunt dripping for him, “All for me, pretty girl~?” He cooed as he looked up once more to see your flustered face. He chuckled as he began with pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs as he teased you with small nips to your thighs. He suckled a few marks on your inner thighs before he was face to face with your cunt.

He closed his eyes as his tongue slipped out and a wet stripe licked your slit. You instant let out a whine as your thighs tensed up, he kept your thighs apart using his hands which were wrapped around them. He prodded his wet muscle into your cunt as his nuzzled his face into your wet heat. His nose occasionally bumped against your clit as his tongue lapped at your juices as he eagerly tasted you like if you were an expensive wine. His tongue prodded your clenching entrance before he nuzzled his face more into your cunt as his tongue slipped into your clenching and unclenching entrance.

His slurping became downright pornographic as your hands left the crumpled up bedsheets and slipped into his dirty blonde locks. Your head fell back as your lips were in a ‘o’ shape as moans and whines of pleasure left them. You began to grind your cunt against his mouth as the way he slurped you like he was a hungered man was all too addictive. The way his nose bumped against your clit would send shivers down your spine as goosebumps riddled your body, “J-..James~!” You moaned his name loudly.

This made James prideful, he pulled away from your slicked cunt as leaned his head against your thighs as you guys once again locked eyes as he panted heavily. He looked downright fucking sinful, his hair a tousled mess in your hands, his face flushed red, his eyes glazed over with pure lust and admiration, and his lips along with his chin were smeared with a combination of his spit and your juices. “Use me to get off, c’mon baby girl, I’m only here for you.” He panted out.

Those words made your eyes roll to the back of your head as his lips wrapped around your clit. Fucking hell. He was so fucking good, you felt the coil in your stomach come to life. One of his hands left your thighs as they slipped down to your cunt, his index and pointer finger slipped into your cunt without much resistance. He angled them upwards and curled them in a ‘come here’ motion, you soon began to grind your cunt on his face like if he was merely a tool for your pleasure.

The coil began to slowly unravel as he continued to suckle on your clit as his fingers quickened in pace as he felt you clenching non-stop on his fingers. You pushed his face against your cunt with your hands as his unused hand gripped your thighs in a bruising hold before he pulled away as he heard a disappointed and pitiful whine leave your pretty lips. He panted heavily as his chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain all the air he needed. He fell back on his ass as his other hand that was on your thigh wiped his face clean from your wetness. “Not yet, pretty girl, you aren’t going to cum that easily.”

He said as before he stood up, he then began to strip. Once he was naked, he had scratch marks and cuts on his body. They had long scarred which meant he probably got them long ago, your eyes mapped out his entire body before your eyes found his cock. He was trimmed, neat which surprised you. He was a good six and a half inches, he was more length than girth. He had a pretty pink tip, that was currently leaking pre-cum as it seemed that eating you out worked him up.

You looked up at him as he walked towards you, you licked your lips as he loomed over you. He grabbed your chin as his thumb ran across your lip, “Will you be a good little girl and suck me off, ‘hm?” He asked as you merely dumbly nodded, “Then, what’re you waiting for?” He let go on your chin before as he grabbed your hair into a ponytail as your mouth opened to let him slide into your mouth.

Your mouth wrapped around his tip as your tongue licked his slit that was leaking pre-cum. You swirled your tongue around his head before you slowly took more into your mouth, you had a bit of a gagging reflex so little by little did you take his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip of his cock press against the back your throat which caused you to gag, your hands held onto his muscular thighs as your nails dug onto them. He was fully in your mouth, he could see that you were tense so, he gave you a bit of advice, “Relax..breathe through your nose. You will cause yourself to gag more if you try to breathe through your mouth.” He said as he felt you take his advice.

He then started to bob your head up and down his cock as he felt drool mixed with pre-cum coat his cock. He also heard a bit of it fall onto the floor beneath the both of you, he let soft groans out as his head lolled back in pleasure as the hold that he had on your hair tighten, “That’s it darling, you’re taking my cock so well…” He mumbled out as he slowly began to buck his hips into your mouth. As when he looked down at you, he saw your pretty mouth around his cock as those tear filled eyes looked at him.

“Fuck..if you look at me like that, I might just cum early, doll face.” He muttered through gritted teeth as he felt you hollow your cheeks to create more suction. He felt you become more comfortable as he placed his other hand on your head as he began to lightly thrust into your mouth. The lewd noises and the occasional gagging sound around his cock made him shiver. He felt the knot in his stomach slowly appear.

He quickened his pace a bit more as he almost lost himself when he felt you swallow around his cock. The way your throat tighten around his cock, it was fucking heaven sent. You were a fucking miracle. He began to just fully thrust into your mouth as you slacked your jaw, letting him fully fuck your mouth as groans and..a whimper left his mouth. Oh, this was heavenly, he made such a pretty noise that made you bob your head with his thrusting as you felt his cock throbbing into your mouth more frequently.

It was you that pulled away from his grasp as you coughed, your lips were swollen from the kissing and the sucking you were just doing. He let out a frustrated groan leave his lips as he felt his cock throbbing as his orgasm was so close. You inhaled and exhaled deeply as your chest heaved, “If I couldn’t get my..orgasm, then you can’t either..” You panted out as James merely glared at you before he nodded, it was only fair. He edged you close to your orgasm and you did the same.

He pushed you down on the bed as he towered over you as you guys scooted upwards onto the bed a bit more. James placed a pillow underneath you and moved you close to him, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he looked at you, “Uh..I don’t have a condom, are you sure?” James asked as his hands were on your hips as his thumbs wrapped smoothing circles on your skin. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, it’s okay..I want to feel all of you.” You mumbled.

James nodded as he positioned himself before he slowly slipped inside you. You winced a bit at the penetration as it had a been awhile since you slept with someone. James gritted his teeth as he swore that he wasn’t about to cum right then and there. You were fucking tight, he huffed as the grip on your waist tighten as he slowly sank more of his length into your cunt. You, in the other hand, you felt filled. He thrusted fully into you as your toes curled as he let you get used to him and his size.

A few seconds passed before you rolled your hips and a soft moan left your lips, you looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod as he bottomed out before thrusting back into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his board shoulder, “F-..fuck, James..feels so fucking good~!” You whined out as James settled for a slow yet deep pace.

Skin on skin slapping could be heard throughput the room, the scent of sex lingered and consumed the air in the room as the bed squeezed with every deep thrust that James gave you. Your moans mingled with his groans as his hands ran up your body and groped your breasts as bounced every time that he thrusted into your squelching cunt. Lips messily found each other as both of you locked lips in a sloppy and lustful kiss. Passion and..love was found between the two of you. You guys fucked each other like if you were in your own honeymoon.

You guys complete forgot about the outside world and the cruel reality. You guys were completely focused on each other, saliva slicked lips found bare and naked skin to mark as James pace became more quick. Your nails ran down his back creating red irritated marks as he groaned, one of his hands slipped away from your breasts and down to your clit. He rubbed quick and tight circles as he felt you clench around him like a vice, trying to milk him for everything that he had, “f-..fucking hell, c’mon doll face, take my cock. After we are..out of here, I will make you my pretty wife and fuck a baby into you, yeah~?” James said rolled his hips into your cunt.

You nodded as you were feeling so fucking good, he was fucking you so good. “y..yeah, I wanna be your pretty wife..fuck a baby into me right now, please baby~!” You whined against his ear as he nodded. Both of you too drunk out of each other’s presences as the coil in your stomach grew too tight as he quicken the pace into a more quick and deep pace as his kissed your g-spot so fucking precisely and him rubbing your bundle of nerves didn’t help as you came around his cock without warning. You clenched around him tightly as he felt your walls spasm around his cock.

“Good girl..coming on cock so prettily, gonna make you a mommy, mhm, you want that baby girl, ‘hm~?” James said as he wrapped his unused arm around your waist and pulled you close to cold sweat covered body. You nodded dumbly as you felt overstimulated, the way he kept fucking you like a mere ragdoll, chasing his own orgasm made you clench around him. You bit down on his shoulder he as he continued to thrust into you as he felt his cock twitching more frequently, “Close..I’m gonna breed you, my sweet girl. Make you mine fully, come on, cum with me. Let’s cum together….” He muttered as his breathing was ragged.

His chest heaved quickly as his thumb started to swipe against your clit as his thrusts became animalistic in pace as he pounded into you. He groaned loudly into your shoulder as came deep into you. Filling your womb to the brim with his seed as you cried out as you came hard. He stopped swiping on your clit as both his arms held you close to him. He could feel himself twitching inside you. Fuck..you both were tired. He slowly pulled out of you with a wince as you merely groaned, you felt his sticky, warm seed drip out of your abused cunt.

James pulled you down onto the bed with him as he would clean this mess up later but right now, he wanted to relish in the afterglow. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his hands rubbed your back as you nuzzled into his chest, “I will do everything I can to get us out of Silent Hill..I promise.” He muttered against your hair as you merely nodded as you were fair too tired to form any sentences. He soon felt your body go limp as you feel into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t about Mary anymore, he had to move on from her..he loved Mary but you loved him even if he was a broken man. You chose to embrace him and give yourself to him regardless of the darkness within himself.

You were his saint, his angel, his goddess..his little piece of heaven.

[jaewritesfic]

Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost