#there's one question i'm both hoping and dreading i get | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keen-li · 11 days ago

Text

Merry!Ex-mas.

18+ MDNI

22.k words synopsis: you get a notification about plane tickets you purchased about a trip you were excited for, only reason you're not excited at the remainder, is because you had planned the trip with your now ex. At the time you never thought you'd be spending December broken up. So, it felt like a great idea. not so much now. ex!jk x ex!femreader (fem anatomy.) exes to lovers use of 'yn' warnings: angst, fluff, smut: long-distance relationship, exes, second chance, miscommunication, b*tches is awkward, tension, one bed, forced proximity, Jungkook isn't crazy rich but he's got good money, i think he's an accountant, jk has that short ceo hair cut. reader has communication problem, jungkook's freaking green sweater needs it's own fanfic!, think are!you!sure jungkook. protective!jk, there's a creep who approaches reader as jungkook is off skiing, and whilst she's in the sauna(nothing bad happens.), sweet!wants!to!try!jk, jk has issues of not communicating too. they just can't seem to talk. avoiding stuff. teasing. touchy!jk, secret glances. jealousy, reader is very jealous,they're lying to themsleves, jungkook loves to take pictures especially of reader. hot tub jungkook who's looking up at you like you're a goddes. very needy kissing, boob sucking, dirty talking, oral(f!receiving.), handjob, cowgirl, protected!penetration, aftercare. hand kissing. [i don't know what else i need to add, let me know] as per usual, it was edited but if there are any errors, forgive me. A/N: this fic is honestly cause of that Jungkook green sweater I've never travelled to please don't come at me if anything is wrong. I very much world built some things. I've given written from top to bottom so don't except a part 2, unless maybe drabble requests. I wrote this in one week and i'm so proud i was able to write 22k words, in that time. though i was supposed to go up on the 25th[shhhhhh] A/N: i'm still learning how to write smut. so if you think the smut is cringe please don't tell me :) i don't wanna know. unless you want to help me improve it, and you do it kindly, i'd appreciate. likes, reblog, and all positive asks and comments are always appreciated. i hope you're happy with this one. [read under the cut]

You get the notification as you're scrolling through your phone. A remainder of sorts that you had been forgetting something. Cause you had been.

It loomed over you all week. The lingering feeling of remembering what you can’t. You hated it. But now that you know it’s source you couldn’t feel any worse.

Being the recipient of the message, you’re burdened with having to translate the message. Why do you have to do this? Broken up, having to text him feels like opening a can of worms. But the tickets are non-refundable, and it would be unfair for you to not inform him. You did both pay for them, Jungkook of course paying more because he was just too stubborn to split. he'd actually wanted to pay for the full thing but you were at odds with the idea. he settled eventually.

So, it would be unfair to not tell him. Right? Yes. But you don’t want to believe it.

Even if how the hell are you going to remind your ex about the holiday trip you planned thinking you’d be together for; but in turn would celebrate separately. Before the notification of the trip.

To add on, now you have to open your chat. An action you dread to do; for your emotional health.

What are you actually going to say? You think, finger hovering over the keyboard. Something that won’t make you sound like you’ve missed him, were thinking about him or even thinking about going on this trip with him. All which you’ve been doing. You’ve succumb to the thoughts, only because you two broke up in October, still relatively early to just forget a 3-year relationship with someone you thought you’d marry.

Sigh.

You still haven’t answered the question of how you’re even gonna bring it up. Will he even answer?

“shibal” jimin laughs into the speaker, not helping you one bit. “you two are ridiculous.”

You roll your eyes still waiting and hoping he’ll say something sensible. It’s all in vain. “How the hell do you book a trip and break up just before. You couldn’t wait?” He laughs and you just know he’s sat at his computer playing games, from his loud and unfocused speech.

“We didn’t freaking know we’d breakup.” You justify. “Plus, cause of the breakup we forgot. I forgot.” Your voice loses its strength at the end of the sentence, your mind slipping into a deep thought.

You haven’t been able to remember anything of relevance since that day. Maybe only how to breath and live but you’d say your body takes full credit for that.

“Hmm.” is all he says to you before screaming obscenities to someone in his game.

“Jimin are you gonna be of any help or wh-”

“You know what you should do?”

You want to believe his following statement will be of use, but you can never be certain.

“Just send it” he groans from what you assume is an attack on him. Your brow raises. “Send him a screenshot of the notification. If he doesn’t respond go on it on your own.”

“Or take me with you” he whispers. If it came to it, would you even choose jimin to go with? Probably. He’d help make it fun.

You sigh, still in the darkest of analysis. It’s your best option what else could you say. So, you say your goodbye to jimin who is quick to go off to his game, without a second thought. Rude. Talking to him whilst he’s on his game is setting yourself up.

Back to having a staring contest with your phone. And after a long while of panic, thump fidgeting and dry eyes, you click on his contact (yes you still have it.) and just send the screenshot.

As you wait to make sure the picture is sent you catch a glimpse of the last text from your chat. You were avoiding slipping up and seeing it, but your eyes couldn’t be helped.

Jungkook was the last to text.

Kookie<3: I miss you call me back.

Seeing the text makes your stomach churn. Makes your head spin with all the memories and emotions returning. You don’t want to linger on it. You’re quick to just sending the screenshot like jimin said, you only hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. If he does respond. The little thought in your head surfaces. What if he wants nothing to do with you. What if you’re bothering him? You shouldn’t have sent that text. But it’s too late now.

You’re well aware his message was sent before you had broken up. The only reason you hadn’t replied was because you couldn’t. On the same day you’d called him back and told him how you didn’t think you’d be able to do it anymore.

“Mm?” he hums confused. You can hear it in his voice and it only makes you even more nervous to repeat.

“This long-distance thing isn’t working for us jungkook.” You bite you lower lip hoping to hide some of your emotions that threaten to ruin your speech. Your fingers fidget in the silence waiting for his response. But it never comes and for a moment you think he’s cut the call and you’ve been talking to yourself. That’s when he sighs, showing you, he’s been listening but too shocked to speak.

You calling his full name, no nickname, strains at his heart. “Are you serious?” it’s calm, sad even. Of course he’s sad, you’re breaking up with him. Sad isn’t even strong enough to describe what he’s feeling. Shock is just amongst them, maybe even a little anger. You’ve been going through a challenging period because of the difference in cities. But he never thought it’d come to this. Was it that bad?

“Yeah.” It’s weak defeated. You are, your whole relationship is.

Jungkook is awfully silent, he’s not sure why either. “Is there anything I can do?” he’s aware of the only solution available. But it’s not possible. Neither of your work will allow the other to move.

You shake your head like he can see it. but he doesn’t need to see what your silence has already said.

After not much thought cause he’s not able to, he speaks. “Is this what you want?” his question only serves to add to your confusion.

“You know it’s not but- “you try to speak but the lump in your throat chokes you.

It hurts him that this is happening over a call. Wishes he could’ve spoken about it in person, cause there’s more to it.

More that you haven’t spoken about. Never have, and doubt you ever will or want to.

All this just makes the idea of this trip even more worrying. That’s if he’ll want to go or even respond. You never got to know what he thought but you assume he has some sort of resentment for the way you ended things. You would too. That’s one of the things you feel guilty for.

You’ll say the way things ended was not ideal, and honestly it never made you feel good as you thought it would. It made you feel worse actually. But at least now you don’t argue because you don’t talk. Who are you kidding, you miss the arguments, something to remind he was there.

Guilt hovers but, you console yourself by saying that he probably wanted it too if he didn’t try to fight for it. Which is unfair, but what else can you tell yourself as an excuse.

Your focus is now on your screen. You’re about to exit the chat, but then those familiar popups of bubbles appear. Already?

The bubbles disappear and appear, which only serves to grow your anxiety. Is he about to rebuke you for texting him. Gosh, what the hell would you say after that? He’s about to cuss you out. Suddenly your room feels too small to hold you and what you’re feeling.

But what pops up is even more anxiety inducing.

Kookie<3: I’m in town. We should meet and talk tomorrow.

Why does he sound so professional? Why do you care. Oh- your mind, it’s spinning.

He’s in town, when? Why didn’t he tell you. This would be the first time you see him in a year since he moved. And he couldn’t even just tell you he was in town. The reason to him being here is not unknown to you. It’s the Christmas season and his parents do live in the same city as you. And just like you they were not happy about they’re son moving so far away. But nothing was stopping jungkook. Nothing.

You’re probably not important to him anymore but, couldn’t he have just said, hi. I’m in town. How long has he even been here for? You never thought he’d return to the city even for the holidays.

You shake the thoughts out of your head. You can’t be over thinking this.

We?......meet?.....talk?.....TOMORROW!

Tomorrow couldn’t come any faster (not that you were excited for it.). It’s almost as though it wants you and jungkook to meet.

You both agreed to meet at one of the small restaurants near your place. One you two frequented together, so it holds so much for you. Which only made you more anxious on your way.

When you walked in your eyes unconsciously moved to the table you and jungkook loved to seat at. It was good distance from the kitchen so your food could reach you quicker, and far from others so that jungkook could lean in and say the nastiest thing on earth. It always made you blush even though you’d swat at him. You spot jungkook sat where he usually sat. Coat taken off and hanged on his chair.

“Hey.” You choke out smiling politely as you reach the table and take off your coat, the inside of the restaurant too warm to be comfortable with it on.

You take a sit and allow your body to get accustomed to the environment. And jungkook.

He’s quick to respond to your greeting just as awkward.

When you’re settled you finally get a chance to see just how much he’s changed in a year. The warm light from the ceiling softens his features which would normally be sharp in the dim lights of your bedroom. His hair is cut short. Last time you saw him it was neck length, but now it’s significantly short. Makes him look professional, mature. You like it, really like it. you wish you could just reach over and touch it, it’d probably be just as soft as you remember it and smell like lavender. You notice how he has it styled and gelled back so you doubt he’d be happy with you running your hands in it.

Jungkook spent an ungodly amount of time trying to get it to look like this, which he doesn’t think is perfect enough, but he was running out of time. Something about this meeting had him wanting to go out. He just hopes you like it. he remembers you last saw it when it was longer. It was a big cut, but after your breakup, he felt like giving up the length, considering your hands loved to live in his hair.

You sit hand in lap waiting for your mouth to catch up with how fast your brain is working. Though if you did speak what your brain was thinking, you’d embarrass yourself.

“We should order first.” He says rolling up the sleeves of his navy-blue denim shirt. The action reminding of the inks on his arm. A detail that adds to how attractive he is already. You’re really hating yourself for your thoughts. In your defence you haven’t seen him in the flesh for a year. “What do you wanna get?” he picks up his menu and you do too, stuttering in your movement. He seems calmer than you right now.

But the only thing is that he’s shitting himself inside. when he was sat before you came, his heart dropped every time he heard the door bells chime. Every time he turned it wasn’t you. Only increasing his nervousness. Maybe he was a little to forward with his message. You haven’t seen each other in a while and it’d probably be overwhelming, especially with a certain elephant in the room. He would’ve definitely understood if you didn’t want to show. On the chime of the door that followed his thoughts, he didn’t turn, only for it to be you. In your full glory, making him fidget with his phone more. Which he put aside immediately you sat down.

Clearing your throat you speak, “something soup-y. Today’s a little cold.” And you don’t feel like throwing up what you eat.

Jungkook agrees and his red nose is evidence of that. Cute, you think.

After your orders are taken you turn back to silence. What could you probably say right now? You can feel the distance between you emotionally. And you hate how this is how you are after not seeing each other for a year. Before breaking up you thought of the many ways, you’d hug him once you got to see him. You were definitely delusional over how serious your distance was. Really wanting to believe it wouldn’t be a problem; until it became one, and you just couldn’t do it anymore.

You don’t know how to behave right now.

“So, when did you get back?” you settle on a soft and casual tone.

“Just yesterday.” He speaks sounding a little hesitant. After not knowing where to look you decide to just look at one thing. The table.

After beats of silence, you continue. Can your food come any faster? “you’re staying with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

You lived together, in your used to be shared apartment before he decided to move. So, his only option was to live with his parents for the mean time. He assumed you wouldn’t want or even let him live with you. And it would be fair, you aren’t together anymore.

“I’m Sure they were shocked to see how much you’ve change.” Cause you are. You haven’t seen his parents in the same time that he hasn’t seen them.

“It was a surprise drop in so I’m sure they were” he says with weak chuckle. He bites into his lip before he’s looking at you again, but you don’t stare at him. It’s only when you realize his stare that you finally face him. “How have you been? You look well.” He’s dreading himself right now for not being able to speak to someone who has been, for 3 years, the only person he could speak to.

You do look good, and he can’t take his mind off it. the camera has not been doing you justice. Your skin looks brighter and you generally are just glowing. Gosh he missed looking at you. The way small dainty jewellery serves to compliment your outfit. Your hair done in a way you like, and he loves.

“I try.” You smile. Every chance you get you take a glace at his lip piercing. You’d forgotten just how it made him even the more--. “You look well too. How’s the job going?”

He sucks in a breath, showing visible stress at the thought of his job. “it’s going okay. Easiest way to put it.” he chuckles, awkwardly. You smile, awkwardly too. “I missed it here though, so much stuff I left behind.”

You just hum, nodding. Avoiding how his eyes glancing over you, just for a second as he was looking for where to keep his gaze whilst speaking.

“But I’m sure you’re having fun that side.” That side. He can hear the strength you put on the words. Instead of fiddling on your lap you decide to fold your arms on your chest. Finding it appropriate for the feelings that are sneaking in.

“You can say that, but there’s just something that feels empty y’know.” You do know, but you both choose to leave the conversation implicit.

And right on time, your food arrives saving you from saying anything. What the heck would you say when you can’t even think.

You two are soon digging into your food. Jungkook in his kimchi jjigae and you in yours.

“I missed this- mmm.” He hums making that little angry face he makes when he likes food. You laugh, a little to loud at that causing him to look up at you. You drop your smile.

“Mrs Kim always asks me about you when I come here.” 6 slices of chopped spring onion garnish you haven’t eaten, yet.

He leans back in his chair, unintentionally watching you eat.

He turns his head towards the kitchen where the lady in question usually spends her time. “Where is she anyways?” he’s back to digging into his food. the steam from the food warming his cold nose.

“she’s visiting sung Hoon in the US.” You inform him, taking in how relaxed you’ve become.

He nods at the info, “Ahh- she finally got to got to the US?” he smiles. He remembers how she would come to the table; she’d complain that her son doesn’t want her to visit, which was not the case. But being the dramatic lady she is, she would think that. “ ’m sure she was so excited.”

“no one could hear the end of it.”

He chuckles and you find yourself laughing too. But as much as you’re seemingly getting comfortable (though not wholly.) silence finds a way to wrap it’s long, cold and slimy finger around you two.

After you’re done eating your meals in silence, jungkook thinks it’s time to discuss the reason you’re even meeting. Cause you have nothing more to talk about.

“what’s the plan for the trip?” he shifts in his seat. “Assuming you’d want to go.” He doubts.

You take a deep breath before speaking, looking over at the whole scene of the restaurant. “I don’t know, we’d leave on Thursday. Assuming you’d want to go too.” You would want to go, that’s why you booked the trip. It’s only your situation that makes it awkward.

“Do you?” his question comes out fast and sudden and he regrets how quick it came out.

“Mm?” you mutter like you couldn’t hear what he said.

He clarifies choosing to speak more calmly and composed. “Do you want to go?”

The question takes you aback as though you hadn’t been asking yourself the same thing.

Reaching to play with the little gem on your necklace you stutter out. “I-I mean- yeah we spent money on it.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re unconsciously saying otherwise, but really, you’re just trying to keep your statement open. In case he doesn’t want to go, and you’re left embarrassed with an extra ticket.

Jungkook instead takes your action as you probably not wanting to go. “I get it if you don’t. It’s a weird situation.” His hands move to touching his hair.

You trying to jump in but end up speaking a little too fast. “No, I do. Plus, I hate wasting money.” You do hate wasting money, truly. And it is just that and the fact that you would love a trip right now, to de-stress.

“But do you want to go with me?” that churning feeling in your stomach is returning, and you’ve just eaten which makes it all the much better.

Biting down on your lip and releasing it you say, “I mean I wouldn’t want to go on my own.” You hate how you feel your throat choking up. “Who else would I go with?” you awkwardly joke. There are some people you’d go with. But you planned this trip with jungkook and he paid the much for the tickets. So, it’s only fair to go with him. If he wants to.

He skips your question, not in bad taste. it’d be weird for you to go on a trip you planned with him with someone else. Maybe he did think of it, that maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t with him. But then he thought it through. Shit doesn’t have to be awkward unless you both make it. so, you can enjoy this trip if you just agree to enjoy it. “I don’t mind going with you, but I don’t want you to feel forced to have me there.”

“I have no problem with you, jungkook.” You saying his name even though it’s not the pet name he enjoys feels like a warm touch to him. “I just want to know if you wanna go.” You find it in you to ask.

“I don’t mind it at all.” He says, relieving you of your fears.

He sighs. After he silence speaks. “I can’t believe I forgot about it. I was so excited for it too.” he reminiscing on the day. It was such a good idea. Is a good idea, if you just agree to enjoy it.

“So? It’s settled right?“ You sit up grabbing your stuff and preparing to leave. Jungkook’s smile falls realizing that the moment is ending. But he will see you soon still.

“Yeah.” He prepares to leave too.

“We leave Thursday, I guess. We’ll stay in touch.”

And that’s it, your conversation ends with you managing to avoid the larger topic at hand. It’s like a game.

You throw your clothes in haphazardly. You’re in a panic, which is not necessary cause you have enough time, the whole day to be precise. Your flight’s tomorrow. But the whole airport thing has always found a way to make you panic.

You grab some essentials, but in frustration. Maybe you just want to get it over with. The packing, not the trip. Honestly it feels like it’s already started. Is this how you’re going to be.

As you search through your closet you land on a sweater, one you remember too well. It’s green colour and fluffy soft texture makes it the warmest thing you own. A very memorable sweater, for the warmth it brought you and its origin. You can still smell him on it. You dread packing it and resort to shoving it further in your closet. You’ll think about it.

You stare at your zipped up suitcase for a bit before your eyes gloss over to your phone that buzzes on your bed. For a split second you wonder if it’s jungkook. Could he have changed his mind. you sigh relived when you see it’s just jimin.

Who chooses to say nothing of value and just tease you. “Honestly why do I tell him these things.” You throw your phone on your bed.

Jungkook stands over his already packed suitcase. He just has to zip it closed and seal this trip. He sighs rubbing his lower lip. Before you two broke up he had so much planned for this trip. So much he wanted to say and do. But it's different now and it’d be weird and wrong to say those things. Not before talking of course.

Is he looking forward to this trip? Yes-wait- maybe. The trip in itself is fine, a great and good idea and opportunity to enjoy a holiday and relax. But your presence entails something more something he has to deal with (in a responsible and good way) and that he's been running away from.

"You're excited huh?" his mother smiles leaning against his door frame, watching. He's not sure what about his facial expression, body language or general demeanour would make her think that he's excited. It’s not like he’s dreading or regretting it. it’s more like excitement is the last thing he’s feeling cause of all he’s thinking of.

He doesn't say anything before she's speaking again.

"You need this trip. you've been so busy." He has. Too much at that. So much that he forgot you two had even broken up and was about to go to your place first when he arrived. He’d been so excited to surprise you, then it dawned on him. His tires were quick to turning. His thoughts are cut short by his mother. "it'll help you spend more time with yn."

"I guess." he replies unenthusiastically. Though it’s the same idea they’re both thinking of it in a different context. Something that his mother doesn’t know yet.

He doesn't stare at where she stands only at his suitcase analysing what he's packed and what the heck is actually going on. "Plus, it would be a perfect place to propose." She enthuses, joyous at the thought. He seems to have slightly forgotten about that detail too.

When you were planning the trip, he made a plan to propose to you on it. It honestly is the perfect place to and he felt like it was the right time. Of course, you'd be arguing but it wasn't something that was holding back your relationship. Plus, he thought you'd talked it out well enough. So, he spent his free time after planning the trip, shopping for rings and looking proposal ideas and even asked some of his colleagues for advice. It’d be a trip where you got to spend some time after being away for so long.

But that's when you called and honestly kicked him in the balls. Too confused he just went along with it.

"Switzerland is such a good choice, you kids are so good at these things." She says probably imaging herself there too. It’s not long before his eyes are staring at the black velvet box on his dressing table, and his head is spinning all over again. He knows how excited she gets about this and she won’t stop. “You could take a walk and then pull out the Ring with those mountains in the back and-"

"Eomma!" His deep voice stops her, not harshly but whiny. Not telling his parents about the breakup is honestly the most overwhelming thing because of how his mother adores you and finds a way to bring you up in every conversation. she could go on but the tired look on her son's face makes her stop. She wants to pry on why he looks more drained that ecstatic but she chooses against it.

”Is something wrong?”

He realizes just how carried away he’s getting with his emotions. He shakes his head. “no. I’m just stressed.” He finally looks up at her to give a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes but she returns.

"Sorry, you know how I get carried away. I'm sure you have your own plan let me not stress you."

She leaves and he sighs

No. He has no plan of his own. He has no plan at all.

Your suitcase handle is firmly clutched into your hand as you walk into the airport.

Your eyes scan the crowd. Every face. Each bag too, because you know which one he'd probably be carrying with him. Seeing it again is gonna be triggering cause the last time you saw it was the last time you saw him off.

You and jungkook agreed to come separately and since his parents lived closer to the airport he'd be here first and wait for you by security. But now that you're there you can't see him. Maybe he's a little late but why wouldn't he tell you.

You told him you had just arrived but he hasn't even seen that message. Has he changed his mind? is the first thing that pops up in your head. If he has that's a shitty way to do it. Just ghost you?

So, you pull out your phone to call him. “Pick up." You mutter under your breath.

No answer.

You feel stupid. It honestly feels like you're on a Lifetime show or even worse TLC.

Your annoyance bubbles over as you glance around the busy security area. "Where is he?" you ask yourself.

Though you think he has, you doubt jungkook would just ghost you. It's not what you know him to be. You tap your foot impatiently and try to call him again. Still nothing. Your heart finally relaxes when you spot him already walking to you. "Seriously?" You say a little upset when he finally reaches. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Oh. I didn't hear it." He says pulling it out of his pocket. "Must be on silent. I’m sorry." He looks at you genuinely so. And you can’t bring yourself to be as mad as you want to be. It’s not a big deal, he’s here now.

“it’s okay, we should get going, we’re almost late.” You say frustrated with how traffic delayed your arrival. Jungkook just hums agreeing and surprising you by taking you suitcase. You’d tell him it’s fine and you can manage but he’s already walking ahead of you. Probably not wanting to hear it.

A tense silence stretches between you two as you wait to board your plane. Sitting side by side has never felt so awkward, like the space between you is miles wide. You scroll through your phone, pretending to be so into it. You don’t notice Jungkook stealing occasional glances at you. Or rather, at the sweater you’re wearing—the one he gave you (more like you took.) just before he moved to another town. The green complimenting your skin. He loves how it just melts to fit you. He’s glad to know that you’re warm, he’s aware of how incredibly warm it is.

He wonders if you’re wearing it deliberately, or if it’s just because it’s the warmest thing you own, and today’s even colder than yesterday. Probably no meaning behind it. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Though it’s not enough to stop him from developing a smile on his face, one he covers with his hand.

The low hum of voices and the faint crackle of the airport announcements fill the silence. Someone walks past, dragging a squeaky suitcase, the airport noises the only thing between the two of you.

“I know this is awkward.” He starts randomly, at first doubting he was talking to you but then you move your attention to him, when you realize it’s only you he can be talking to. It’s not like you were looking at anything on your phone. “I want us to enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I want you to enjoy it too.” You find yourself speaking before your brain can process.

He smiles and turns to meet your eyes. All of a sudden, he feels so close. “So can we just pretend.” His eyes don’t move, if possible, they stare even deeper into yours. Yours don’t move as well. “Pretend like everything’s okay.” He speaks low as if he doesn’t want others around to hear. “Agree?”

You haven’t said much, instead just let him speak. “Agreed.”

You don’t mind pretending. You’ve been pretending you’re okay all this time, so why can’t you do it now.

You watch Jungkook sliding the bags into the overhead storage above your seats. He notices you approaching and nods for you to have the window seat.

“You sure?” you ask only because he called dibs when you planned the trip that he’d be getting the window seat.

He nods. “Yeah. I know you like it more than I do.” You do. He only called dibs because he was trying to ‘one up’ you like everything’s a game.

You squeeze passed him get comfortable in your seat and he’s soon sitting next to you. You’re glad it’s just two seats.

You sit in silence for most of the flight, each pretending to be too absorbed in your own activities to notice the other. Jungkook watches you out of the corner of his eye as you scroll through your phone, then switch to reading a book. This trip can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. Of course, you two haven’t talked about your breakup, but it doesn’t have to come up. You’ll just enjoy the weekend and go back to normal, like he said—pretend---if either of you even knows what that means.

What are the boundaries of pretending.

At some point, you shift in your seat, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You’re asleep, of course, but Jungkook glances down at you, momentarily startled. He considers waking you but decides against it. Instead, he leans back slightly, letting you stay there.

As the plane hums softly and moves through the sky, Jungkook can’t help but wonder if this trip could be his chance to fix things. How does he want it to happen? Does he even know? All he knows it that you do eventually have to talk about things. Do you even want to talk about it, because you seem to be avoiding it.

But there’s only so much avoiding you can do.

As soon as the plane lands, you stretch in your seat, surprised you managed to sleep for that long. Glancing at Jungkook, you watch as he pulls the luggage from the overhead bin. He looks like he didn’t get any sleep at all, you had been sleeping on his shoulder for most of the time. You exchange a brief look—just acknowledging each other and your present moment—before heading off the plane

The crisp Swiss air hits you as you step outside the terminal, and you follow Jungkook as he gets into a cab and it drives confidently toward a car rental area, which you’re confused about but don’t ask. Jungkook picks up keys from the reception and you walk through the parkin lot looking for what you don’t know. You’re just following. You stare at him puzzled as he dangles the keys. He’s been quiet, and you hadn’t even expected to rent a car. Public transport seemed like the plan, but now that you think about it, you remember how Jungkook feels about it.

“You rented a car?” you raise a brow.

He nods, “yeah, it’d be easier. Thought you’d approve.”

He catches a glance of your face, like you’re trying to figure something out, but can’t.

“Hmm.” You only hum.

“You look cute when you’re confused”. He takes you by surprise. “Come on.” He says walking and not letting you process his words. You just try to shake them out of your head.

You don’t admit it, but you're impressed. He thought ahead. And you’re honestly glad he did—something you feel he’s been lacking the past year.

Once he’s done packing the luggage into the car, he closes the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat. You’re not sure why you’re shocked to find out it’s a Mercedes-benz g63 amg. You’d always known he had an obsession with luxury cars, especially ones like this. The fact that his job pays so well certainly helps, you guess moving out of town must’ve been worth it.

The car is great-- so comfortable, and the heater works perfectly, keeping you warm against the cold.

As Jungkook adjusts the mirrors, you scroll through your contacts, trying to figure out what to call the person you booked the cabin with, “what do I call them a host?” You mutter under your breath before dialling the number.

Jungkook glances at you as you speak to the host in quick tones. "Got it, thanks," you say, giving a quick wave of your phone toward Jungkook. With the directions noted you can now get to moving.

"Okay, so we head north, then take-“

“North?" Jungkook interrupts, starting the engine. "Are you sure it's not west or whatever?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You glare at him. He glances at one map and thinks he knows his way around Switzerland.

"I just talked to the guy," you say flatly.

Jungkook smirks, recalling a past trip. "Remember last time we travelled, and we ended up on a dead-end street?" he says with a cheeky smile on his face. he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes at the memory. You had been driving through the outskirts, and your GPS got wonky, causing you to go down a deserted road.

“If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t have gotten lost,” you reply.

You stop bickering, finally following the GPS. Jungkook decides to follow the directions, and the tension eases as you leave the city behind.

The atmosphere shifts, replaced by a sense of awe at the breathtaking scenery. Low-capped mountains stretch into the horizon, Swiss chalets dot the landscape, and the sun reflects off the lakes. You’re glad you arrived during the day; cause nighttime would not have done the view justice.

You watch out the window, your voice filled with awe. "Oh my gosh, it's so beautiful." Jungkook glances at your direction before returning his attention to the road. "Yeah, it is," he agrees, equally mesmerized by the view.

"Can you grab my camera from the back?" he askes. Recalling his passion for photography, you can’t be surprised he has it with him.

You pull out the camera from his bag, noticing it’s larger and more expensive looking than the one you had gifted him. "Do you still have your other one?" you’re curious.

He knows what you’re hinting to. "It fell in water during a fishing trip with my team, but I'm getting it fixed."

“Do you still have the pictures.” You’d hate to lose them, even though they are null and void now, you still like how happy you looked in them.

“Yeah. They’re in my SD.” He informs you and you’re glad.

You fumble with the new camera, struggling to operate its buttons, he notices. "There's a button just there," he directs. Though you aren’t much of a photographer, you manage to snap some decent shots of the scene. You take a lot to make sure you have options.

Feeling playful, you turn the camera to jungkook and snap a pic of him. You had always admired his model-like features and often joked he should pursue modelling instead of his current path, which kept him 218 miles away. But now you realize modelling would only take him even farther.

He never agreed to the idea but never argued either. He preferred to appreciate beauty rather than be the centre of attention.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, just one," you reply.

He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder what he’s thinking. Is he upset? Did you cross a pretending line?

"Wanna stop and take pictures," he grins, "y’know for your Instagram."

It’s not a bad idea, but you don’t want to be late and have the host waiting for too long.

"We won't be long." he looks over to see if you’re considering. He smiles when sees that you are. You don't post much on Instagram, and he knows that. But it wouldn't hurt to have some pictures from this trip.

"Let's be quick," you accept.

He pulls over to the side of the road and when you’re out he’s approaching you to take the camera. "Let me take some of you first," you insist. He isn’t so keen on it though.

"Just a few," you whine dodging him trying to take it from your hands.

"We're supposed to be quick." He reminds you. "And you know I'm not a fan of pictures of me."

You not wanting to bicker. You hand it over to him. "But I will take pictures of you eventually," it’s a promise.

You quickly get posing on a spot you like, and he snaps several pictures. Some you were prepared for, while others were candid of you looking up a bird flying over, like you’ve never seen a bird before. or just in awe of the scene behind. Why do the birds seem so majestic here?

Jungkook smiles as he continues to take photos, forgetting the time. "I think that's enough. We're going to be late," you say, running out of poses to do.

You start walking to the car and he snaps one more picture of the scene before getting back and starting the car. Whilst adjusting to the warmth he hands you the camera.

"These are so pretty," you bulge your eyes out at how good jungkook is at taking pictures. You can definitely see the difference. Jungkook can’t help but feel a sense of pride. You scroll through the camera, admiring more pictures.

Then you scroll a little too far and notice a series of photos featuring a friend—someone he seems to be close to. In one, she leans on his shoulder, a gesture that causes some type of discomfort or irritation. You couldn’t be sure, you’re too busy scrolling. She smiles too hard, you judge.

gosh you're pathetic. Why are you acting like this. The man is not your boyfriend he can do whatever. The statement causes an unwanted sour taste to form over your taste buds.

You continue to scroll, analysing the photos, each one deepening your insecurities.

"Careful, you're gonna damage the buttons," Jungkook jokes when he notices your rushed movement. He wonders what has you that way.

When he speaks, you’re brought back to reality. Though you’re brought back with an attitude. You switch off the device and lay it back where you found it, sitting back down with a scowl on your face and jungkook wonders the cause.

You had been fine just a moment ago. He doesn’t say anything and focuses fully on the road ahead. The silent drive to the cabin feels anything but aesthetic.

You sigh as the car slows, leaving behind the snow-covered path. When you approach the cabin, it’s instantly recognizable from the photo. At least you weren’t lost or scammed. The place looks serene. It’s blanketed in snow. It’s not like those huge family ones. It’s small just to fit you and jungkook. You’d have no money to buy anything or activities if you booked those larger ones. And they’re unnecessary cause it’s just the two of you.

Jungkook parks the car, and as you both step out, the awkwardness that’s shadowed the trip returns. It had been there from the beginning, lingering beneath exchanges and strained silences. Brief moments, like taking pictures earlier, had been relieving, but even that had soured quickly. Now, neither of you had much to say.

The cabin’s host, a kind older man with a thick Swiss accent, greets you warmly, showing you around the cozy interior and pointing out the back patio before leaving. Once alone, you both quietly bring in the luggage. The silence is deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow you step on.

Due to your irritation that some how still lingered you step a little too hard on the icy ground, and in an instant, your foot slips. You land awkwardly in a mix of snow and dirt, the impact cushioned but still hurting.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook calls, his voice tinged with concern and amusement. He’d drop the luggage to come check on you if you hadn’t brushed him away with your hand.

Still irritated, now cause of the fall, you dust yourself off and move yourself inside. You drop the luggage in bedroom and start taking off your sweater, only to have Jungkook walk in moments later.

“One bed,” he states, looking at the large, centred piece of furniture. “Looks comfy.” You seem to have forgotten the cabin was lover’s themed, so it did only have one bed. The host had asked you if it was a problem when he saw the look on your face but you just brushed it away at you being tired.

You glance at the bed, then at him. “Yeah. Guess you’ll have to take the couch,” you joke, though your tone comes out flatter than intended.

“Nope.” He flops onto the bed, which creaks under his weight, making him pause to check if it’s broken. When it holds, he relaxes. “I’m sleeping right here.”

You sigh, deciding it’s not worth arguing. You’ve shared a bed before—it shouldn’t be a big deal so many times at that. But those times are not now and you have to deal with your new circumstance.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you announce, expecting him to leave the room. Instead, he sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“Knock yourself out,” he replies casually.

Groaning, you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom. The hot water feels like a gift, relaxing your tense muscles. If only the whole trip could feel this peaceful.

When you return, Jungkook is gone, though his shoes by the door confirm he hasn’t gone far. You search through your suitcase for a sweater, only to realize you packed just one sweater—the one now wet and dirty. Frustration bubbles as you grab a thin, long-sleeved shirt. It’ll have to do, though you doubt it’ll keep you warm in tomorrow’s outdoor activities.

Meanwhile, Jungkook in the kitchen has immersed himself in exploring the layout of it. whilst on his expedition his attention drifts to a tiny blue bird minding its business outside the window. He leans into it but carefully not to scare it away. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to find him a bother. “Got any advice for me?” he murmurs, taking a peek behind him. The bird doesn’t react, oblivious to his internal conflict. He’s unsure—about you, about himself, about what this trip is supposed to accomplish.

When you enter the kitchen and done talking to his new friend who doesn’t present him with anything viable but his company, he’s quick to point out the lack of groceries. “We should go shopping. It’s on your itinerary, right?” he teases lightly.

You nod, unsurprised he remembers. You’d always been the planner, the one who thought of everything. Maybe that’s why the breakup hurt so much—it came so suddenly, leaving no time to plan how to feel or move on.

As he’s about to suggest leaving immediately, he notices you rubbing your arms. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks, gesturing to your thin shirt.

“I’m fine,” you reply dismissively, though you clearly aren’t.

“Put on a sweater before you get sick,” he insists. His boyfriend instincts linger, even now.

You hesitate but eventually admit, “I forgot to pack an extra one.” The way how stares at you is so embarrassing for you.

Jungkook chuckles softly, though not unkindly. “Of course you did.” You roll your eyes. He moves to grab a sweater from his suitcase and hands it to you. “Here. Borrow this.”

You take it, the faint scent of his cologne that seems to be on everything he wears no matter how much he washes, invaded your senses. “Thanks,” you say quietly, slipping it on and hoping not to ruin this one too.

By the time you return from the store, exhaustion settles in. You both sit in the living room, cups of hot cocoa in hand. Jungkook flips through the channels while you sit quietly, the warmth of his sweater and the fire calming you.

“You’ve made a lot of friends in Jeju,” you say suddenly, your tone sharper than intended.

Jungkook pauses, confused. “What friends?”

“Colleagues, maybe? Customers? I saw the pictures on your camera,” you admit, staring into your cup instead of at him.

He leans back, waiting. He knows what you’re referring to and could explain that the woman in the photos was a client a little too excited and touchy about her wedding rehearsal photos, and had wanted photos with him. But he wants you to ask.

Instead, the silence stretches, filled with unspoken questions—questions about Jeju, the photos, the breakup, and even yourself. You sigh, pushing them aside.

“is there something you wanna ask?”

“There’s nothing I want to ask,” you finally say, though the bitterness in your voice betrays the truth.

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. “I thought we agreed on pretending.” His voice is still soft.

“I know. Just don’t want you pretending if you’ve got other things going on.”

Jungkook chuckles taking a sip of his cocoa.” I’m good.”

“I’m good too.”

“Good.”

You watch him stand a sly smirk adoring his face. “let’s go back to pretending now, okay?” he says looking at you.

You mumble a sure and he walks off. Probably to sleep.

Sleeping the same bed is even more awkward. After spending some minutes you’d decide you were too tired to be awake, you came the bedroom.

Jungkook was still awake staring at his phone, and for some reason shirtless. He likes to sleep shirtless and the tension between you two isn’t going to stop him.

Jungkook tries to keep his eyes to himself as you change into your pajamas. You didn’t want to be childish so you just changed right there. It’s nothing he’s never seen before. He won’t act like the action doesn’t cause a rise in memories and he holds himself to not thinking further. Soon you’re crawling into your side and laying facing away from him. Jungkook chooses to lie on his back, the bed big enough for you to keep your distance. He turns off the lights but your eyes remain open staring into the dark.

As the night continues, none of you are able to fall asleep. Jungkook tries to make himself comfortable, his shifting cause you to think he might be moving closer, but he doesn’t. why do you feel sad. Your brain is used to being close to him and him holding you in situations like this. And he too is used to wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer into him. But there’s none of that.

“I can’t fucking sleep.” he groans frustratedly sitting up. He runs his hands in his hair. He looks over at you thinking you’re asleep, the darkness preventing him from actually knowing. He’s jealous at the idea of you being able to sleep, but when your frustrated voice sounds, he’s relieved. Relieved that he’s not the only not able to sleep.

“Same.” You mutter remaining on your side.

Jungkook huffs and puffs contemplating on asking what he’d been debating. Your bodies are probably used to sleeping closer to each other, so maybe that’s’ why it’s hard. You surely won’t mind if it means you get to sleep right?

He looks over to you and how far you seem from. He doesn’t like, hates the reality of it. “Can I sleep closer to you.” His words and the fact that he actually said takes you aback. You freeze. Your silence is killing him, he shouldn’t have said it. he should take it back, well—but he’s already sai-

“Okay.” Okay? Well, that was easy, he thought you’d be looking at him weird. but no, you just lay on your side waiting for him.

When he said closer you never thought he meant this close. You’re the closest you can be. But you don’t mind it, it actually brings you that giddy feeling, like it’s your first time cuddling. You realize just how much you missed it. He nuzzles his face in your neck and this is when he’d kiss your shoulder and neck but he doesn’t and the detail is gravely missed. He has to hold himself from not doing it.

“We’re going to move to the middle of the bed, darling.” It’s only then that you realize how much at the edge you were. You shuffle yourselves and move into the center and get comfortable in the position.

“Are you comfortable?”

So much you hate to say it. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry. “y-yeah.” You can barely respond coherently with how his voice is so close sending goosebumps all over you.

“Can I put my around you? It’s the only place I can put it.” he tries to explain, but you were actually hoping for it.

You nod for him to go ahead and he wraps his arm around you. Honestly, he should’ve just asked if he could cuddle you, because this is basically what you’re doing. He didn’t have to mask it; you’d have said yes either way. He doesn’t know that though.

Now that you’re close to him and him to you, you both weirdly fall asleep, very quickly at that.

First thing on your itinerary was to visit the Lindt home of chocolate you’d been drooling at the thought of it since you planned this trip. It would honestly be a crime to visit Switzerland and not visit the Lindt factory. Being a lover of chocolate no activity on your list will be as good as this.

“I don’t know why they have us putting our bags away.” Jungkook whines taking off his jacket, as required and placing it in a locker. “How am I supposed to carry my chocolate.” His speech is almost childlike. You just chuckle.

” That’s why they do it.” You inform him, with a soft smile and start to walk ahead of him. Jungkook walks behind you, watching how you look around with wonder.

Did he mention how good he feels right now. The sleep he had last night was the best he’s had in a while. And it only serves to tell him how much he’s missed your presence. Just you as a whole. Being away from you for so long has had an effect on him too. It’s only now, that he’s not able to do all the things he used to do, that he realizes how much he’s missed it. And how much you mean to him.

“Oh my gosh.” Jungkook watches how you take in the aroma of chocolate. It invades his senses and when you’re turning around to check on him, he’s nodding. You want him to enjoy this just as you are.

You gasp and it’s when you spot the huge chocolate fountain that you pull Jungkook’s attention to it by his arm. “it’s so fucking huge.” You say still holding onto him.

“that’s what she said.”

You roll your eyes. “Grow up.” You both laugh. and it’s when you’re lost in laughter and admiring the fountain that jungkook looks down to see you still holding his arm. So, in a swift action of no thought, all instinct he moves to hold your hand.

Your head sharply moves to look at him then at his hand holding yours and then back up at him. He’s got this innocent smile on his face and you can’t help but warm up into his hold. You don’t mind the action of holding hands but you fear what it implies. Is he for real or still pretending?

For the first minutes you stay holding hands, until jungkook is pulling away to grab his camera. You rub you hands together to try and regain your sense of independence. What the heck are you doing, holding hands? This pretending thing Is a good idea, but it’s definitely messing with you in some way. All ways. He’s giving you things that you’ve been craving. The cuddle at night, the holding hands, you’ve missed it all. But you don’t know where it’s coming from, does he miss you too or is he pretending. To think of it you never really discussed what type of pretending you’re doing. Are you pretending to still be together or are you pretending to be good friends. Gosh this is so stressful. And confusing. You wonder if he’s stressing like you are. He seems calm. He’s handling this so well.

“Wait—I need a picture of you. Stand still.” He points the camera to you and you’re quick to turning your head away.

“it’s fine you don’t need to-” snap.

He doesn’t give you the time to object and just snaps. “Jungkook stop taking pictures of me.” He doesn’t. you’re embarrassed to be doing this in public. But he seems thrilled. “Okay wait-” he doesn’t so you choose to reaching for the Lense. But jungkook doesn’t mind filling his storage with pictures of your palm. “Kook, wait.”

“Kook?” he questions smiling. You realize your mistake. Honestly you didn’t mean to call him that, it just came out naturally for you to get him to stop. And it worked. Though now it shifts the air.

You groan. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You roll your eyes. You don’t even know what you’re saying.

He doesn’t linger on it more, which honestly helps your case. The blush on your face is deserving of a picture. Snap.

“Stop that before I revoke your privileges.” You threaten. He doesn’t want that.

He raises his hands in surrender. “won’t do it again.”

You ignore him and turn to keep walking.

“Can take more later though?”

You don’t answer, but he takes it as a yes. You’ve always been his muse, it’s not gonna stop now. His camara is now getting some action.

This place is actually so beautiful, smells amazing too. The pictures you saw did not do it justice.

“Look at the strawberries, the nuts. Ah—I’m in heaven.”

Jungkook smiles as he watches enjoy and pointing for him to look at the large container, of everything that goes well with chocolate. He’s really just happy that you’re including him, by telling him how much you freaking love this place or how you want to stay here forever. It makes him feel like things aren’t all that bad between the two of you and it can be fixed.

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You narrow your eyes at him. Gosh he forgot how long he was looking for. You’d been telling him something but he zoned out.

“Oh-nothing.” He clears his throat.

You just brush it off, cause if you linger on it, you’ll melt. Jungkook looking at you has been a weakness for you, there’s just something about him focusing on you and having only you in sight. “Anyway, I was saying try this.”

He doesn’t regain his consciousness before you’re bringing a spoon full of chocolate to his lips. he takes it, tasting the sweetness of it.

He licks the chocolate off his lips when you pull away. “Mmm….so good.” You nod glad that he likes it. Though way he’s looking at you makes you think he might not be talking about the chocolate. You choose to ignore your thoughts with a cough.

As you go on you learn facts about chocolate and the factory and jungkook takes the pictures. When walking around you make sure to not forget to collect little pieces of chocolate from the dispensers. And it’s not long before your hands are getting full.

When your expedition is over, you’re returning to your bags to stuff them with your treasure.

“This is a lot of chocolate.” Jungkook states.

You shake your head. “it’s not that much.”

“Yeah of course an addict is telling me that.”

You gasp. “I’m not an addict.”

“Tell that to all the money I’ve spent buying you chocolate.” Money which it didn’t mind and loved spending.

“Honestly that’s all on you.” You say raising your hands. He chuckles.

Getting tired you both decide to go by the café inside the factory. Whilst there you both order some food to eat which is not chocolate, except you. For your beverage you picked to drink the famous hot cocoa. Which tastes like heaven made it themselves.

“How do I take this home with me?” you say motioning to your drink.

“Just stay.” He meant to say you both could just stay, but his tongue tripped.

You nod, thinking about it. “I could.” Moving to Switzerland and living here would be a dream. But unfortunately, things aren’t that easy. Finding a job would be hard, plus the language barrier would kill you.

“don’t.” he’s almost pleading. “I don’t know how I’d tell your family I lost you to Switzerland.” More like he doesn’t know how he’d fix things.

“Honestly it’s no competition.” You say in deep thought and analysis.

“What? you would leave me for Switzerland?” He says it not realizing causing you to chuckle. And when you look at him, he gets it.

The conversation doesn’t go farther after that. Jungkook just stays in his thought. When jungkook had made the decision to move. He honestly thought it wouldn’t be that bad. He’d plan on maybe moving you out to him when he settled down, but your job was a very hot topic. At the time he hadn’t realized how serious it was. But now he does.

If it was you moving, he’d be just as hurt. And it pissing him off that he hadn’t realize the impact.

For your second and last activity for the day, cause of the way time just flies by; is the largest indoor flea market.

You spend your time there; just looking around, eating, and buying stuff. During your move you make it a mission to take pictures of jungkook. And you do manage to take some good ones.

He also finds an opportunity to ask about your work and how it’s going. And if that co-worker that bothers you is still around. He’s glad to learn that she did get moved to another department. He’s happy with whatever makes you comfortable.

As you’re talking, you’re approached by a couple, older but not old and tourists as well. They ask you to take a picture of them and jungkook is glad to assist. When he’s done, they’re happy and offer to take a picture of you too, jungkook wants to decline the offer assuming you wouldn’t want to but you’re quick to accepting.

“you two look so lovely together.” The lady says and you have no clue what to say apart form an awkward thank you. You wouldn’t blame them for thinking you’re a couple, not with the way jungkook is smiling at the picture.

“Grow up kook.”

“What?” he whines. “It’s a good photo.”

You roll your eyes before walking away. He follows behind you, smiling.

-----

Soon your day on paper comes to an end and you’re returning to the cabin.

You did not know what to expect of your day in the morning. Your night was okay but would the rest of the day go the same? those were some of your thoughts. But to your pleasure the day went well, great even. You just hope it’s the same for the rest of the trip.

Jungkook is on cocoa duty (not assigned but he took the responsibility.) and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t do a good job at it every time.

Leaning against the counter holding your mug and watching him finishes up with his own, you watch.

“How’d you like the Lindt factory?”

He takes a sip before answering. “Great. Honestly enjoyed it more than I thought.”

“What? You don’t trust my judgement?” you watch as he leans on the counter opposite from you.

“it’s not that. Just never thought I was that big of a chocolate fan.”

You hum. Silence fills the kitchen as you’re just enjoying the drink. Why does the air feel so thick, is it the way he just leans there. Pajamas not doing a very good job at hiding his physique. Why the hell does he look buffer. Gosh, his arms look like they’d lift and lay you to your demise. In the morning you caught a glimpse of his shirtless torso, and you were about to lose your cool. To add gasoline to the fire he had just stepped out the shower and had not completely dried. Geez, if it wasn’t for your ability to leave the room, you don’t know what you would’ve done or said.

Jungkook has always had a keen eye for your little frustrated looks, the way you don’t blink, the way you wrap your hands around yourself or how you cross your legs. He knows. It’s the details he’s aware of. No one knows you like he does.

“I like this sweater on you.” He says pointing to the green sweater you’d just gotten back from the dry cleaners.

You look down at it. “Because it’s yours?” you raise a brow as you take a sip of your cocoa.

He shakes his head looking your body up. “no. because you look good in it.” He’s biting his lip, then his playing with that little lip ring. Yn, hold yourself.

You choke out a chuckle. “Jungkook.” It’s a warning for him. But he doesn’t take it.

“What? It’s not my fault you look good in all my clothes.” gosh you’re gonna die choking on this liquid. “Makes me want to just hand over my closet to you.” He’s coming closer to you, gosh what the fuck, he approaches but it’s the sink you’re standing in front he wants. You move. He rinses his mug, tired of the drink.

“Well, that won’t be necessary.” you say sliding away from his towering figure. Just to catch your breath, cause you’ve been holding it. Jungkook laughs at the movement. Just after, you’re rinsing your cup and placing it in the cupboard. You’re not gonna die choking on cocoa, or jungkook as a matter of fact.

“Think I’m going to bed.” You state thinking the bedroom will be your only place of solace away from him.

“Me too. I’m getting sleepy.”

You’re stiff as he walks behind you. You hope you’ll be able to sleep on your own tonight. Cause if jungkook just as much as touches you, you’ll turn into a puddle.

You’re quick to moving to your side and facing away from him as to not see him taking of his shirt. You know because you hear it drop.

“Goodnight.” He says turning off the light.

With all your might you mumble a goodnight to him too.

Tonight, you manage to fall asleep without cuddling. You sleep back-to-back close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other.

Jungkook wanted, so badly to go skiing after seeing an advertisement for it and saw some people do it on your way to the cabin. You’re not one for these intense sports but since he went with you to the Lindt factory, you thought it’d only be fair to go as well. Just accompany him.

Though his won’t be sweet and rewarding.

“You wanna go with me?” he asks teasingly and you shake your head, as soon as you process his words.” come on.” He whines.

“I’ll just cheer you on from down here.” The process of skiing looks terrifying. What do you mean you had to go on those zip line things, and slide down. Not you. Nope.

“it’s not that bad. You’ll be with me.”

Though it sounds comforting it doesn’t change anything. “I’ll just stay here looking around and taking pictures for you.” You smile hoping it convinces him.

He chuckles, his bunny smile on show for you.” baby what are you so scared of?” the pet name comes out smoothly, catching you by surprise. But it does seat itself in and warm your heart.

“it’s just scary.” You wrap your arms around your body.

He sighs watching you closely. “Fine, but can we do something as exciting, later.” He stares at you scattering your brain for what he could be referring to. “Like ice skating.” Oh—he was thinking ice skating. Last night has your mind in a whirlwind.

“That sounds better.” Jungkook laughs cause it’s basically the same thing, but he won’t get into it.

“Okay then.” He says walking to the register. “we’ll do that later.” It’s a promise.

Jungkook is off skiing and you’re sat in doors, still able to watch the outside activities, landscape and events thought the large window. You don’t mind not going skiing, it’s not like it was on your list.

While you’re sat you decide it’d be a good time to call jimin and let him in on your trip so far.

“it’s not as awkward, anymore. It was at first. But then we just agreed to just enjoy the trip for the sake of our money.”

“The sake of your money?” he mocks.

You choke out a laugh. “Yes, for the money.” Is it? “he’s been nice and all. It’s actually not bad.” Jimin hums as he listens, this time at least you have his attention.

You’ve shockingly enjoyed the trip more than you thought, so far. If you just keep on, the whole trip could go well and you’d be back to your normal lives. You hate the sickness you feel at the thought. The trip will end, it is gonna end and you’ll be back to what you were before. Gosh.

“Sounds like the trip is going a little too well.”

You scoff. “it’s not that, we’re both just chill.”

“No fucking or kissing.”

You gasp and look around like someone could’ve heard that, but your phone is to your ear. “jimin! Oh my gosh.” The thought of it has you blushing still.

“Just sayin’. Jungkook’s probably dying. ”

You roll your eyes. He’s fine, you’re fine.

You go on talking but soon you have to end the call. Immediately you cut the call and stuff your phone in your pocket a figure sits next to you. Male, not jungkook. You pay no mind to him. you’re on a public bench anyone can sit next to you. He’s just in his own business. Is what you think until he’s reaching over to talk to you.

“Exciting isn’t it.” when he speaks you catch his foreign accent, not Swiss. Must be a tourist like you.

You awkwardly furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Skiing.” He points.

Then it clicks that that’s what he’s talking about.

“I presume.” You say modestly. Why the heck is he talking to you.

“Presume? Haven’t you gone?”

“no.” You shake your head chuckling. “it’s not for me.”

“You can’t say that. You haven’t even tried.” You internally roll your eyes. Why does he seem to care so much. “Plus, why come to Switzerland in the winter and not try skiing.”

You don’t know why you carry on this conversation, but you feel like justifying yourself. “Honestly I just came for the Lindt factory.” You say shamelessly causing the stranger to laugh. he doesn’t seem like a weirdo or creep, but you can never know. He’s probably not talking to you out of pure interest. So, you try to keep your distance.

“you’ve been?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

He hums sound interested and you know this conversation isn’t ending anytime soon. “How was it?”

You scoff internally. “It was fun. Would recommend you’ll love it.” You don’t even know him; how would you know he’d like it. And to be fair you’d add that Jungkook’s presence made the place more exciting to be at. You assume he doesn’t have a jungkook. Speaking of jungkook, how long is he going to be? You should’ve just gone out on a walk instead.

He nods. “Well maybe you can show me.” You pause, okay now you’re starting to get uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that I came alone and it would be nice to have someone show me around.” He justifies but it doesn’t make you any more comfortable. “I’d pay for your ticket if that’s the issue.”

You chuckle. “I’m a tourist to, there’s not much I can show you.”

“I mean you’ve visited the Lindt, so you know more than me.” Gosh he’s so adamant.

You smile awkwardly wishing jungkook would just pop up.

“you’d be better off going with someone else.” You’re looking around as if you’ve lost something. The man catches on to the action.

“Am I making you uncomfortable.” Yes. very.

“No-” before you can finish your lie of a statement, Jungkook’s interrupts, voice anything but kind.

“Yes, you are.” He says firmly, body not open for discussion.

The guy turns to look at you, then jungkook, then back at you. “Do you know him?”

Hesitantly you respond. “yeah” you debate on what to say. “He’s a friend.” He is isn’t he?

Friend? Jungkook chuckles internally. “Excuse us.” He spits out to the man.

The guy is taken aback, but just stands. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You just nod and give him an awkward smile as he walks away.

You sigh relieved that he’s gone.

You and jungkook share a glance before he’s sitting down.

“Friend?” Jungkook asks when he sits next to you.

You raise a brow. “What? you wanted me to lie?”

“Lie?” he says even stronger. You don’t know what he’s pointing to right now.

“Are you parrot?” You chuckle trying to get smart with him.

Jungkook scoffs at how you avoid his eyes. “You couldn’t have said I was your boyfriend.”

“But you’re not.” You spit out a little quickly.

When you turn to look at him you catch how his jaw clenches. And if you weren’t arguing right now, you’d think it’s the hottest thing. “But you could’ve just lied so he leaves you alone. Now he’s probably going to try to approach you again.”

“he’s not going to.” You say naively.

Jungkook is getting frustrated with this, a little more than he should. “I know guys like that, he’s going wait for a time when I’m not around and attack.”

“Attack?” you laugh at his word choice. Your laughter only serves to his anger. “You’re being dramatic”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being serious” his statement comes out a little strong and louder than you’d like

“don’t yell.” You warn him and he apologizes. “I get you feel like you need to protect me, but relax.”

He laughs at the way you think. You thinking he’s feeling like he needs to, no, he needs to. He wants to.

“I don’t feel like, I need to, I want to.”

You don’t say anything, he knows he’s got you, what more could you say. There’s nothing. Jungkook is the protective type, has always been. He’s shown you that many times in your relationship. And then, it made sense but now you feel like he shouldn’t have to bother himself with it. You’re not his responsibility anymore. “We should get ready to go for lunch.” you stand walking away.

Jungkook follows after you, knowing you’re now gonna give him attitude. Your folded arms are evidence of that. He’d normally just kiss the attitude away but for obvious reason he can’t.

“you’re not gonna ask how skiing was?” He tries really hard to open the air for conversation. He hates it when you argue. So, he tries to everything he can to lighten the air.

You stare down at your food. Your eyes not meeting him once. “How was it?” you don’t even sound interested which you hate because you are. You love to hear jungkook talk about things he loves.

“It was great.” He explains not into going into much detail like he wanted to. Your energy demoralizes him. “I’m sure they’re still open if you still want to try. He suggests but you’re quick to shaking your head.

When he’s about to say something, he’s getting interrupted. It’s a girl, the one he met when skiing. She showed him around some routes since she’s a local.

“Yn, this is Lena. I met her whilst skiing.” He says introducing you. “Lena this is yn, my friend.”

Fuck now you know how bad it stings.

“Hey yn. How are you liking you trip so far?” she asks politely in an accent.

You stare her up, taking in her features. She looks about your age, and gorgeous. Why is your body so rigid. Speak. “Umm- hi-I’m liking it well enough. Thanks.” you can hear how stiff and awkward your speech is. Gosh yn she hasn’t done anything to you, chill. Smile.

Jungkook breaks into your awkward encounter. “I’m gonna be seeing you at the ice rink, right?”

He says and she smiles a little too hard. You roll your eyes. What does he mean he’s gonna see her there. Is the a you and him trip anymore? Your food doesn’t look as appetizing anymore. “Yeah. I’m there often during the holidays.”

The way her voice rings in your head is jarring. Make it stop.

Soon your prayers are answered and she’s leaving. Though unlike her your heavy heart stays.

Jungkook turns to you, still staring at her route of exit. “You, okay?” your eyes return.

You shift your eyes to your hands. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” You stand from the table choosing to leave. “I think I’m gonna stop by the cabin.”

Jungkook is confused. But he just takes you as you are.

“Sure, let me get-” he threatens to stand.

“no. I’ll just take a train.”

He sits down. If you want to be alone it’s best if he lets you be.

When you get to the cabin, all alone. You find yourself falling into deep thought.

The pretend play you and jungkook are playing is good for you to enjoy the trip, but you won’t deny how much it only covers your true feelings. You play pretend and feel all these feelings as though you’re still together and then the trip ends and you’re sucked into being apart. And it’s him leaving all over again.

You’re getting sick of it. There’s only so much pretending you can do.

Jungkook: ice skating later today?

He wants to be sure you haven’t changed your mind.

Not matter your emotions you still want to enjoy the trip.

You: sure. Meet you there.

When you make it to the ice rink, your mood is still tense from lunch, which is your fault for holding on to the emotions for so long. To only sour your mood more, you spot jungkook talking to the Lena girl from lunch.

You roll your eyes and watch how she giggles a little too hard at something he says. Jungkook is a funny guy, but she shouldn’t be laughing, whatever he’s said can’t be that funny. This is so irritating. Why the hell is she even here.

When jungkook spots you, he has on a huge grin, but the sour look on your face has him dropping it. He thought maybe you wouldn’t be still upset by now. But he’s wrong. “Yn you’re here.” He says it like he wasn’t expecting you and you weren’t meant to be here, or that’s how you hear it.

“We made plans, didn’t we?” your tone is nothing more than flat and irritated.

“We did.” He turns. “You remember Lena?” He turns to point at her, like you can’t see her. Why’s she looking at you.

Oh, could you forget her. “I do.” You jeer.

“Hi.” she with her perfect smile. You’d liked to punch it in—your of course—you’d never actually so it.

“Hey.” It comes out awkward and strained. Wanting to get things over with you turn to jungkook immediately. “what’re we doing now?”

“Um. We’ll have to get the skates.” He turns to Lena for some type of consultation, you scoff.

“Yeah, this way.” she says turning to lead the way.

Jungkook turns to you, your folded arms the first thing he sees. He stands next to you. “You get here okay?” you didn’t arrive together which means you had to take public transport, which he knows you don’t mind but he just wants to check on you.

“Yeah.” You mutter before walking ahead of him. Do you even know where you’re going?

You want to enjoy it, but the emotions that are ahead of you block you from doing so completely. And of course, Lena is a pro at skating.

Jungkook is fairly good, for someone who’s just taken it up. You’d attribute that to his quick learner personality.

You on the other hand are struggling, and it’s pissing you off. You hold on to the half wall and glide. There’s a good amount of people around and honestly, it’s embarrassing. -like- there are even small kids better at it than you. It’d be better if you just stopped. There are probably other activities you could do. Ice skating (or skiing) is not the end all be all of Switzerland.

Jungkook would probably enjoy skating more with Lena, seeing that they skied together earlier. You question why jungkook even ever liked you in the first place. You’re not cool like Lena or even as adventurous, you do try but you don’t feel it’s enough. He’s better off with someone like her. It’s good you broke up so that he can be free to do whatever. The thought stabs at your heart.

Jungkook spots you from where he is walking out. The look on your face anything but happy. He’s swift to skating to you, making sure not to bump into anymore with how fast he’s moving. “Where you going?”

His concerned and soft voice only intensifies your frustration. Could he not see how irritated and bad at this you are. He was probably too busy to notice. He’s always busy.

“You haven’t even travelled the while ring.” He chuckles awkwardly as you step off. He follows.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it.” You don’t even dare look at him, because you know if you do your frustration will win and you’ll end up yelling or crying. And both are too embarrassing to do in public.

Jungkook scoffs. Jungkook can’t tell what’s going on with you but it’s definitely disturbing your ability to enjoy anything. He wants you to enjoy. But what’s irritating him is how you don’t want to communicate what you’re feeling to him. He’s always made himself a safe space for you to open up. But you never take it. Ever since he m0ved you’ve been distant, physically and emotionally. It’s frustrating cause all he wants is to be close to you in all ways. “You were not feeling skiing and now you’re not feeling this?”

Is he blaming you for not enjoying this? It’s not your fault you feel this way. You don’t even want to be feeling like this. You do want to enjoy skating, gosh you want to, so bad. But there’s just so much you’re holding on too that pretending can’t solve.

“Jungkook I’m not any good at this.” You gesture around eyes starting to sting when you watch how other people have fun while you argue. “You just go have fun with your Leni or Lena whatever.” You act like you aren’t sure of her name.

It’s the way you say it, the force and strain in the word. The way you look to the crowd in a jittering stare looking for her that let’s jungkook know what this is all about. Did it come off like that? She’s just a girl he met whilst skiing, he honestly never thought that far. Never thought you’d be thinking of it.

“Is this because of her?” he questions eyebrows furrowed trying to look at your face that’s staring down. Why the hell are this shoe laces so hard to untie. you just want to cut them off, but you’d probably have to pay for damages. Shit

Your frustration is replaced with another type of embarrassment, when jungkook is on his knee to replace his hands with yours to help you take the laces off. You just want the ground to swallow you right now. Unlike you Jungkook’s calmness is able to take the laces off. He tries to help you into your other shoes but you just brush him off. He moves.

Standing up and looking at you he asks. Voice calm like usual. “Is it?” you’d even forgotten his previous question. Do you have to answer him?

“I don’t know how it would be when you two are off to the other side of the ring. I’ve barely talked to her.” That’s exactly the problem why the heck do you feel like this when you haven’t gotten to know the girl. You barely know her intentions.

“It is.”

You groan rolling your eyes. “If you want help skating, I can help you. I’m sorry that I got carried away.” It’s probably one of the things you’re mad about. He just fucking left you like you didn’t make plans to come here together. Yeah, maybe your attitude made the distance between you, but he should know how to deal with it by now. Gosh you’ve been together for a good 3 years. He should know how you are.

And he does. That’s why he insists you’re acting like this cause of Lena. well, she’s probably just a catalyst and there’s something deeper that you two have to address.

You stand looking up at him, but he’s towering figure doesn’t make you as intimidating as you want to feel. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, why? Cause you always know what you’re doing.”

“You know it’d be better if you just said it directly.” Whatever it is, because he wants to know. You want to walk past him but his hand around your wrist stops you. You look at it then at him. He’s not smiling, but not mad. Just concerned.

“I don’t--I’m not saying anything.” You snatch it form his grip and he lets you.

Jungkook’s face scrunches up in frustration. “That’s what you always say, then pull shit like this.”

You pause and stare at right in his--round eyes that are now, siren. “Shit like what?”

“This. Your fucking attitude.” He almost loses his tone but remembers that you’re in public, which is so fucking embarrassing. “You never want to talk about things.” He looks around for any watching eyes.

You just glare at him. Maybe you don’t like expressing yourself to him anymore. You’ve noticed it too. It had been hard for you to express yourself to him over a call, and sometimes shitty network. There had been days where you wanted to cry on his shoulders but only had the screen to rely on, so guess what you did. Nothing. You didn’t cry, you didn’t tell him anything. You’d just cry on your pillow after the call ends. “Maybe I don’t cause I know you won’t listen.”

That’s a hit to his ego. To him as a person.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I always listen to you.” The blank look on your face has him questioning himself. “of course, I’m not perfect.”

You chuckle bitterly.

“Just go off to your little girlfriend.” And there it is, a confirmation of what he already knew.

You start walking to the entrance. And he follows. Shoes on. He’s not going to be able to skate with the heaviness in his heart. He’d end up sinking into the ice, which doesn’t sound so bad right now. “Come on.” He swiftly moves to standing Infront of you. He blocks you from moving and you just give up and just decide to look at his jaw, not wanting to look directly at him. Which was not a good idea, cause of how he clenches it. You look up into his eyes. “you’re jealous?”

“Who?” he’s a parrot and now you’re an owl, he wants to say but finds it inappropriate for your mood.

“You are so jealous.”

“I’m no-”

“don’t lie to me.” You try to push at his chest for him to move out of your way, but your plan backfires giving him leeway to hold your hand firmly to his chest. Hard as a rock even through he’s sweater. “Tell me why you’re jealous.”

Instead of answering him directly you try to change the topic. You swear you can feel his heart beat through his sweater.

“Don’t act like I couldn’t see you jealous too when that guy approached me.” You try to one-up.

“I was jealous.” His confession has you wanting you dig a hole and hide yourself. It’s so easy for him to say, you weren’t even enjoying your conversation with that guy. “Difference with me is that I can say it.”

Shit. Shit. What do you say now. Get angrier, that always works, well not really.

“Whatever. I’m not jealous.” You look away from him. Are you really doing this in public. Jungkook doesn’t look like he gives a fuck right now, he just wants an answer. One which he’s not going to get.

“Tell me what you’re so jealous about?” his voice lowers

“How many times do I have to say I’m not jealous.” Till you can’t deny it anymore, the thought runs through Jungkook’s mind. “Just go have your fun.” You finally decide you’re tired of feeling his heart beat perfectly.

“you’re so ridiculous y’know.” He watches you move slight away, anger not faltering one bit. You’re determined to being upset. “can’t we just talk about this. It seems to be bothering you.”

It is. It’s fucking gnawing at your heart, your lungs, your mind.

“Nothing’s bothering me, I’m fine.” You breathe in, relaxing and calming down just a bit. “I just don’t want to be out there all on my own, while you’re having fun with some else.” Jungkook licks his lip. He doesn’t have anything else to say. What he has to say can’t be said here or whilst you’re unable to hear.

“I’m going home.” You pass by him and he doesn’t bother turning to watch you walk out.

“Korea?” it’s possible for you to want to leave. And the thought causes him to bite down hard on his bottom lip. Cause if you leave on these terms, nothing’s gonna change and he’d never get another chance. You’d avoid him like the plague.

“No, the cabin.” You state and he’s relieved. “Have fun.”

“Everything okay?” jungkook is startled by Lena’s voice who walked around to find him after she noticed he was gone.

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “I’ll just get going.” He informs her. He already has his stuff so there’s no need for him to go back inside. “Thanks for getting us in, though we didn’t even stay long.”

“No problem. It was fun, wish I got to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she isn’t normally like that.” Cause you aren’t.

“I understand.”

You don’t immediately go to the cabin. Instead, you go to the sauna you had been eyeing. It could probably be the only way to relax you. The sweat dripping down will mask the real tears falling down your face. You’re glad you’re alone right now.

You have your head leaned back thinking about what had just previously happened. The thoughts not wanting to leave you.

You hear the door open but you don’t bother looking, you’ve got a lot to think about. “hey stranger..” the familiar voice speaks just as shocked. You sharply open your eyes. Wondering if it’s you he’s speaking to but you’re just the two of you in here.

You’re just the two of you.

“didn’t expect to find you here.” He says setting himself down just in front of you and you looking at him oddly. Do you have bad luck?

“hmm” you chuckle awkwardly. You make a plan to gradually scoot yourself to the door. Being with him here does make you uncomfortable but you try to stay to enjoy what’s left of your time. You expect silence but the man doesn’t see on the same level. “Went to the Lindt factory like you said. Was honestly the best of everything.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” you say like you’re a worker at the factory or care.

“It would’ve been better if you came too.”

You awkwardly chuckle and finally decide to sit up. You came here to think and relax but this guy couldn’t be more of a bother. “I’m sure I would’ve just made it worse.”

He chuckles and smiles your way. A smile you do not reciprocate “I doubt.”

“Is your friend around?” Now you should fucking leave.

“Mm?” you ask like you didn’t hear. Fucking sirens are blaring. He’s not giving off I’m gonna leap at your vibe. It’s more of his inability to give up that bugs you. “Oh- ahh yeah. He’s gonna be here.”

He turns to look at the door like Jungkook’s about to walk through the door, but he doesn’t. gosh you wish he would. “isn’t it hard to have male friends like him.” You look at him brows furrowed, confused. You wait for him to elaborate and he’s quick to it. “Protective.” He says.

“how?”

“makes it hard for you to live your live and get to know people.” You laugh. it’s not like jungkook has his hands on you and pulling you away from people who want to talk to you. He’s actually for it but he just has a good discernment of creeps. As you sit here you reflect on his words from before when you initially met the guy. Gosh you should really start listening to jungkook. Makes you realize how right he is—sometimes--

“no.” your tone is sharp that the soft one you’d been giving him.

He shakes his head. He lifts his hands in defence saying, “I think he’s doing too much.” Now you’re getting upset, visibly so, which is not lost to the man. Who the fuck does he thinks he is. He’s the one doing too much, “I’m not some weirdo, I promise.” He hasn’t shown any signs of it yet, but you don’t give a fuck and you’re not gonna wait around for him to show it.

“I think you’re doing too much.” You snare abruptly standing up. He can tell the irritation on your face and is about to defend himself but you’re quick to cutting in. you’re not about to have it.

“I don’t know how your long your trip is but if you see me around, please don’t speak to me.”

“Wait.” You don’t.

Sauna time done you decide to go back to the cabin, feeling anything but relaxed. Daylight already lost.

Today has honestly knocked you out, as though you’ve done anything energy straining. It’s more of an emotional strain. When you walk in jungkook isn’t anywhere to be seen. So, you just assume he never got back. Makes you wonder where the hell he is and why he didn’t tell you, but you’re in no place to convict him cause you never informed him of your sauna endeavours as well. You’re both grown adults and can move around Switzerland without the other—but—why do you feel entitled to know where he is. You lost those privileges when you broke up and now when you left him at the rink.

Maybe a steamy shower will do what the sauna didn’t finish cause of you interruption. After that you decide to end your night early, you’ve got nothing to do after all.

you toss and turn in bed, barely able to get a linear sleeping time. Everything just feels so weird and off. Even worse than in the beginning. It’s all a different type of awkward, which you hate. Jungkook isn’t sleeping next to you which prompts you to checking the time.

1:39am your phone tells you.

Where the hell is he, you’re starting to get scared. You’re not worried about his safety cause jungkook is very capable in that sector, --well unless he got shot—shot? Why are thinking of that. Who’d fucking shot him, let alone in Switzerland. He’s never been in any trouble with the law or anyone. You’re getting paranoid, if you don’t see jungkook in the flesh, well and not wounded, you’re gonna lose your mind.

Putting on the sweater that has been a staple and carried you through the trip you walk out the bedroom to the open floor living room. you sigh when you don’t spot jungkook. You won’t be able to go back to sleep even if you wanted to. Cause you don’t feel like it and are losing your mind. As you’re standing in the living room like an anxiety ridden mom waiting for their teenager child at midnight, you hear it. It’s wood chopping sounds. Harsh and fast. You do have some cabins around you so it could be your neighbours—but no--the sound is closer to yours, like it’s just outside. So, you curiously walk to the door which would lead you closer to the sound. Maybe you aren’t as afraid cause you assume it’s jungkook. And it is.

You relax when you spot his figure well and healthy.

He doesn’t notice as you stand watching him. bottom lip chewed down on. Why the hell is he chopping wood at 1 in the morning.

You want to say something. You need to. Maybe apologize about what happened at the rink, you have a fair share in the argument. Since waking up or maybe after the sauna you realized how childish your behaviour was. You ruined the moment. When you could’ve just asked jungkook to help you and he would’ve been there, hadn’t you chosen to give into your irritation. Irritation of seeing him with a woman. There you said it.

His muscles flex as he moves to drop the axe down on the wood.

This is not what you want for you and jungkook. Arguing and not able to talk or share air. It’s not what you want. Even if things do officially end, you’d want to end it on calm and friendlier terms.

As you watch him you notice how his jaw tightens. He’s not just chopping wood. You start to worry for him when his movements grow harsher, of the larger chunk of wood.

“What did the wood do to you?” you try to be neutral.

He didn’t notice you behind him. So, he’s startled by the sound of your voice. Turning to look at you holding yourself in the door way, he chooses to take a break. He got so carried away he forgot he was cutting wood for the fire place and had cut too much. He drops the axe into snow. “Ditched me at the ice rink.” He says going to pick up some pieces of wood to bring inside.

Fuck you feel so bad. You stay silent watching him until he’s brought all the wood in and finally closing the door. Which allows for the warmth from the now blazing fire to fill the house. Now in warmer climate, jungkook takes off his large sweater and you drop your arms that were still wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry about that.” You mumble softly. He stands at the sink, you assume to make himself something warm.

“it’s okay, it’s not like I went all the way to stay in touch with some girl so she could get me—us--a good deal at the ice rink. Then I take you there and you ditch the thing entirely.”

You do feel horrible about to, but his tone irritates you causing you to respond as just that. Which you immediately regret.

“I left you with her, weren’t you happy with that.” You have an interesting way of saying things that bother you.

Jungkook pauses his actions and stares at you with a seriously confused face. He scoffs. You’re not making sense. “You know that’s not what I wanted.” He returns to his mug. “I wanted to spend it with you.” His voices calms.

Fuck. Uhm what do you say. You should probably say you’re sorry. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook just listening. He just doesn’t understand, he wishes you could just be straight forward. Frustrated and tired of hiding behind a task, he drops the cup to give you, his attention.

“Did I say something wrong?” you stand where you are but jungkook moves. To you. You panic but he doesn’t walk closer than a few feet from you. You don’t know how you’d handle yourself if he came any closer. At the rink you almost died. “At the rink?” he clarifies like you’re not fully aware. He just wants to make sure that you’re on the same page. Cause you can think of other times he might have feared he’d said something wrong. “I honestly shouldn’t even have started talking to her.” He rubs a hand over his face.

Jungkook has never been malicious to you in your friendship before or relationship. Or even now. He’s been cordial. He’s the only man who’s treated so well and calmingly. Of course he has his imperfections, you both do. But it doesn’t take from how well he’s treated you. He never crosses a line.

“it’s not even that.” You’re looking off to the side and holding yourself again,

Gosh, he’s really holding himself right now. He bites his lower lip and clenches his jaw to hold himself back from just walking up to you and making you look him in the eyes. “Then what’s wrong. Please talk to me.” He pleads.

“I don’t know,” you whisper still looking beyond him, your voice is barely audible.

He’s begging, really for you to just tell him something. “Please don’t say that.” He responds, his tone a mix of frustration and pleading. He steps closer just a few centimetres away, if you unfolded your arms you’d probably bump into his chest.

“I don’t-” you start but your voice cuts you off, “it’s the way you-” you aren’t able to finish. What are you going to do with yourself. This is embarrassing, you can barely form or organize your thoughts and your mouth can barely move to speak. You’re not even going to talk about how hard it is for you to look him in the eyes. You just settle with staring at his other supporting features. His hair, his ears (that are red from what you assume is frustration—it’s not--), his eyebrows and then you skip to look at his nose--

“was it me talking to that girl?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You push away slightly.

“But we have--you know what--I want to.” He moves to block your action of walking away. You thought you were strong enough. You thought you’d manage to talk about this. But you can’t. not when it makes you want to cry. “I want to talk about it.” His voice is stern but not harsh. It’s just strong enough to let you know he’s not letting this go. It’s funny how something so insignificant can cause you to be in this situation. Forced to express and confront your emotions, the one’s you’ve been running from since the trip began, the one’s you told yourselves you’d pretend didn’t exist. You fooled yourselves by dodging the topic.

Now you’re here. “While we’re at it we can talk about why you broke up with me.” He’s not asking if you can talk about it, he’s telling you it has to be talked about and he’s not gonna let it go by. Not this time.

At his words, all your emotions unite to form a single unit of defence. “me? you agreed too.” You point at him face scowling.

“I only did cause it’s what you wanted, and I didn’t want to hold you back.”

You stare confused. “Hold me back from what?” what the fuck does he think you’ve been doing. You hope he doesn’t think you’ve been out and about since breaking up, that’s been the last thing on your mind.

“From living the life, you wanted to, without me.” His upset at the thought leading his voice to come out a little passive aggressive.

He does think that, you can see it. “Without you? I don’t want that.” You state. “But how can I live a life with you when you’re miles away, always busy. And can barely visit.” You just talk. Finally, your gears are moving. But the problem is that so are the tears. “You moving away is you choosing to live without me too.” You choke on your words a little. “Even I didn’t want to tie you to me or hold you back from your dreams that’s why I tried to li- live with it, but it got so unbearable kook. I couldn’t take it. it felt like I was alone. In fact, I was alone.”

Jungkook feels sick hearing that you felt alone.

“You know I did try.” His voice is soft, moving himself into your circle. You let him. He can’t help himself but cup your cheek. The action feels comforting, almost relieving. At least he’s here and you’re not talking over the phone, makes it much easier for you to sink into his touch.

You hold the wrist that’s caressing your cheek. Gosh you want to keep his touch here forever. “I know that’s what hurts more you tried but it still wasn’t enough. I really did want it to work. I still do.” On your last sentence you look up at him and he’s already staring at you, the thump of his other hand coming swiftly to wipe your stray tears. You sniffle. “Cause honestly I’ve missed you kook.” You feel comforted playing with the end of his sweater. “So much. I miss how we were before you moved. When it was easier for us to be together.” your fingers take a journey from the bottom of his sweater to the neck.

Your palms lay flat on his chest and his hands move to softly hold your wrist, not to move you away but you keep there.

“I know we said we’d pretend. A-and I thought I could. But I can’t kook.” On cue with his name, you look up at him. “fuck- I never knew how much I hate seeing you talk to other—" you can’t finish your sentence, but it’s okay cause he’s finished for you in his mind. “I’m sorry for attitude.”

He glides his hands from your wrists down your arms until they are both on your waist. “I’m sorry too.” He’s pulling you closer, your hands still on his chest, but now for stability. “I’m so sorry I was too distracted for you. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t serve that.” He’s caressing your back. “okay?” you have to answer but you can only bring yourself to nodding. All he’s ever wanted was to know. Know what was wrong and how he could fix it.

“I’ve missed you too.” He smiles lightly bringing his nose to brush against yours. The action has you tilting your head upwards. His lips itch to touch yours, but they don’t they just hover, he still has more to say. And he wants to say it close enough for you to feel it. “If only you knew how I dreaded every morning and realized you weren’t next to me. Every time I just wanted to fly back home.”

“So, what stopped you.” You’re looking at his lips. his rosy and moist lips from how hard he’s been biting and licking on that. You wanna do that. You wanna kiss him, wanna be the only biting down on his lips. you wanna do a lot of things right now. You wanna run your hands through his hair remind yourself of its texture, you wanna lift that sweater off, that holds his cologne so well, the earthy lavender scent, that crawls its way through your system. You wanna take that sweater off him, --feel, see—just how much that gym membership as proved itself valuable. You know you won’t be disappointed, jungkook loves the fucking gym.

“I don’t even know. But all I know is that it’s not gonna stop me anymore.” Him nudging his nose closer has you tilting your head to meet his lips. the air between you feels heavy. The feeling pulling your lips to meet. And when the do, it’s fervent. His kiss is urgent but slow, not wanting to be apart from you for a second.

Your bodies are hooked together as Jungkook is moving you back into a wall. The kiss intensifies when he leans your head back with his hand around your neck. You’re gripping onto his sweater for support and breathing him in for life.

Jungkook clings onto your lips for life too, even if he needs to breath he doesn’t stop. You moaning into his mouth will suffice. He doesn’t know where to keep his hands. Should he use them to tilt your head back to deepen the kiss, (if he goes any deeper he’s gonna sink.) whilst he uses the other to pull you leg up by your thighs, his grip surely leaving crescent moons as decorations. He doesn’t know what to do with them. For the moment he uses them to pull he sweater over his head. You’ve been clawing at it to come off.

Now shirtless you can feel his skin for what you remember it to be silky-smooth. So delicate that you fear leaving scratch marks on him, but jungkook encourages it, he begs you to do it. Your hands roam his body, first his large back, muscles flexed, then down his firm chest then down to his defined midsection. “What am I to do with all this.” You say breathless.

“You tell me. It’s all yours.” Your lips are meeting again. Tongues tagging at each other. For some reason the rich, sweet and completely irresistible taste of chocolate lingers on your lips, but he loves it and is drinking it up.

Jungkook finds that his hands are better at gripping your thigh and lifting it to wrap around his waist. His core moves into you and you feel how hard he is against you. You’re thankful for his thin pajama pants.

Your hands pull at the root of his hair, though it’s shorter you make it work, making him groan into your mouth. You both can’t fucking breath at this point, which is the only reason you’re pulling away. Your heavy breaths brushing against each other.

“jungk-” you’re moaning for him to take you to bed but he’s steps ahead of you. Your feet don’t have to fret cause he’s lifting you by the thighs to lay you on the edge of the bed.

You lay back on the bed but legs on his shoulder, he’s kneeling between your legs. Your pants are still on but not for long. In a swift motion you’re left in your plain black panties. The ones with the little bow. He chuckles at the detail. When you see what he’s laughing at you get self conscious. Jungkook looks up at you confused why you’re closing your legs.

“I didn’t know we’d be in this position, so these are the one I brought.” You try to explain yourself cheeks blushing red. He doesn’t know why you’re so insecure about the detail. He loves them.

For a quick kiss he’s on his feet hovering over you. “it’s okay, I like my gifts wrapped in bows.” He smirks and the comment has you calling out his name in shock. peck. He’s back on his knees staring at your core. The bow is a detail he’ll miss but he’d gotta take them off. Fuck is all he can think when your cunt is right in front of him, wet. Is this where he’s meant to die, right in your cunt from suffocation cause he won’t be able to detach himself from you.

Your legs are planted on his shoulder, your ass just at the edge of the bed. When he first swipes his tongue through your folds, it takes you by surprise. Gosh you missed him being right there.

“fuck” you whimper the sound not being able to be masked. Your slick, probably mixed with his saliva, drips down your cunt, down his chin. His nose is so deep in it that some of your juices run up his nose. Is this how fucking cocaine sniffers feel? He can’t wait till his cock is buried snuggly it. He sniffs in, on purpose this time, takin git once more. You grind on his face making him suck harder at your clit. You’re getting dizzy and gripping hard at the sheets. His nails dig into your thighs harshly, the pain causing pleasure.

Everything is so intense you can’t tell apart your orgasm. Fuck you can’t be coming this fast from just his tongue. Shit. “Jungkook. Don’t stop” You whine the intense feeling approaching quick, your walls tightening and fluttering around his tongue. Jungkook’s so carried away he only realizes you’re coming when your legs are shaking. He drinks everything that leaves and it’s only when you’re pulling his head back from overstimulation that he realizes he should take a breath. He’s starved can you blame him?

“you’re so gorgeous baby.” he says peppering kisses on your thighs. “Wanna do that again for me.” He’d absolutely would eat you out for a second time in a row. And you’d love that but you just want to feel him.

You’re moving up the bed and he’s hovering over you kissing your jaw. Your palms meet his ass in a teasing smack.

“Missed this ass.” You smile under him. jungkook just chuckles. you want to add on but his finger stuffing your tight cunt has you silent, gasping for air.

Jungkook smiles down at your pleasure strained face. “mm? not so talkative now?”

He thinks he’s got you. Then you slide down your hand down his abs, he knows where your hand travels and though it’ll destroy his ego, he lets you do it. “so big” you bite your bottom lip as you start stroking him, using your own juices as lubricate. He’s walls are falling. Your hand wrapped around him, has him burying his moans in the croak of your neck.

It’s a competition huh? he loves those second and fucking your cunt first.

You’re stroking him in his pants and he’s pumping his fingers in your cunt. He’s kissing you to hide his moans. It’s a fucking competition and he’s losing. He can’t lose. His hand leaves your cunt to grab at your wrist. You stop. He pulls you away from him. if you went on any longer, he’d be done for and the night wouldn’t end the way he wants. He hasn’t been touched in a year, unless it’s talking about those times you sexted, but it doesn’t count. It feels different when it’s your hands.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“If you did that you wouldn’t have gotten the orgasms I have left for you.” You don’t respond. you won’t argue, you do want them.

His fingers are back to pumping and even sooner than before your climax approaches. He wishes he could count just how much you flutter around his finger but he’s too busy looking at your face, pleasure written all over it. and its pride that fills him, knowing he’s the one giving it to you.

Jungkook moves away and you watch how he licks his fingers clean. The way he smiles at you after, is disgustingly hot.

“Take off your pants.” You tell him.

“You take off your shirt.” He reciprocates, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing anything.

Jungkook is spoiled by the sight before him, your chest sprawled out for him to taste. So, he leans down and wraps his tongue around a nipple. His hand lost at the other side. You love all the foreplay, really, but you want him. you’ve been thinking about it for forever.

“Jungkook.” You call. He hums saying you have his attention. “I want you.”

There’s nothing more he wants.

“Want you too baby.” He says grabbing his cock and aligning it with your entrance. Then he remembers.

“fuck” he whispers. You sit up and wander what has him holding back.

“what?”

“I don’t have a condom.” He knows he doesn’t have one, it’d be weird, it’s not like he was coming on this trip expecting to fuck you.

“Why?” he stares at you confused.

“I didn’t expect fucking to be on the itinerary.”

Oh yeah, you laugh at himself.

“Do you?”

“Nope. Why would I have them.” He just shrugs his shoulders.

He’s gonna lose it. “Are you on the pill?” it’s his only option.

That’s when you shake your head. “Got off when we broke up.”

Okay so what is he gonna do, his cock hard and your cunt right in front of him.

“Jungkook come on you can pull out.” You whine pulling him forward.

She shakes his head. “god no. I almost lost my mind from your hand. It’d lose it in your pussy.” You smile, you shouldn’t be laughing cause you won’t be able to fuck. But you just can’t help but smile at the fact that he almost lost himself just from your hand. You’ve got no clue on what to do. You really need to fuck him.

“Wait--” he looks at you. “This is a lover’s cabin.” You say but he waits for you to elaborate and make sense.

“wouldn’t they have condoms in the cupboard or something.” He didn’t think of that.

So, as you stand you walk over to the cupboard roughly open it almost tipping it over. “Bingo!” you celebrate pulling out a long string of condoms. Your saving grace.

You carefully pull out one and toss it to jungkook.

“Relax aren’t they the one’s you usually use,” you say when you see the look on his face. They do look like they’ve just been purchased and placed. He’s so thankful right now. He leans against the head board and you watch how he gracefully he strokes himself and slips it on, your mouth drools but you’re too needy. You’ll do that another day.

“Come ride cow girl.” He welcomes you when he’s all done. You stretch your legs over him, centering yourself. His hands are quick to spread across your ass, landing a light tap.

He helps you centre himself at your entrance. His brows scrunch together when he feels your tight warmth slide down him. he definitely isn’t going to last long, maybe he’ll hold on till you come but after that is not promised.

His hand loosely holds at your throat, just enough to tilt it back slightly and leave wet kisses and marks everywhere on your skin.

You sliding up and down him feels great but he couldn’t help himself but move his fingers to touch your clit. In pure pleasure you’re wrapping your arms around him and kissing him. you love this position, how he nudges at your back, how intimate it feels, the way you’re so close after being so far away. The cold is barely in mind. Jungkook can’t express how much he’s missed you.

You love it.

But what you love more is how he pulls at your hair, just softly. “Love fucking my cock huh?” he asks but you’re unable to answer his hips jutting up into you with great speed. Jungkook could get carried away with the way your boob bounce but he chooses to say focus. “You like that huh?” he smirks but your eyes are closed, the pleasure of his intense strokes taking you out.

“Yeah, love fucking you kook.” You whimper out.

He’s thrusting harder and you’re moaning louder. “you look so pretty taking me baby. Wanna fuck you forever.”

You wish you.

Your body melts into his as you’re coming again, jungkook fucking into you for his own high which follows after yours. When he catches his breath, he’s laying you down and beside you just after throwing the filled condom.

“I’m gonna get the bath started.” He says planting a quick kiss on your shoulder.

You’re too drained to stand so when he’s back to come get you you’re dozing off. “come on baby I’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

You groan. “Then after a I can make you cocoa.”

“I’m so tired kook.” You whine.

“I knowww.” he coos. Next thing you know he’s lifting you, bridal style. “it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“Hmm. Don’t move.” Jungkook whines when you threaten to stand and start your day. You two have already slept in because of your late-night endeavours.

“I have to kook. We have so much for our day.”

“Ugh! Fine. But first give me your hand.” He demands the action has you confused but you give it to him. when he has it, he’s giving you a billion kisses. “I love you.” He doesn’t think it’s too soon cause—well he doesn’t know it just felt right to say.

“I love you too now let me go.” He makes sure not to unhand you until you say it more ‘meaningfully’ according to him.

---

You and jungkook decided to retry ice skating (you were hell bent on not going skiing.)

As you’re skating jungkook slides to the half wall, after telling you he has to take a call. You shoo him away after telling you’ll be fine alone (for the meantime).

“Any news?” jungkook was nervous when he got the call from Namjoon. This is a very important call from him, it determines what the hell he’s gonna choose. Quit or get transferred.

“Yeah. it’s been approved.” Jungkook is still for a moment.

“Seriously?” it almost feels like a dream.

“Yeah, had to do a lot of convincing but they agreed.” He’s so grateful for Namjoon. He’s gonna miss him. Jungkook looks over to you, gliding not great but better, and you’re smiling this time. So, he’s happy. You’re happy.

“Thank you, man,”

Namjoon smiles, he knows how much this means. “No problem.” The call cuts.

This just seals a lot “kook look out.” He pockets his phone and as he’s turning to you, you slam into him. You haven’t gotten to the knowing how to stop just yet. Maybe next time.

“You okay, baby.” He says holding onto you by your waist

You let out a dramatic breath that has him smiling. “Yeah, but I’m getting kinda tired.” You say out of breath and letting your weight fall into his arms.

“I’m getting hungry too.” You’ve spent a good amount of time ice skating so you decide to leave it for next time.

“what’s the plan for tonight.” He asks as you eat.

“Hmm. For the first time I don’t know.” You both laugh. “We could go out for dinner—ohhh the hot tub--.” You forgot about it cause none of you ever wanted to use it, honestly you didn’t even expect the place to have a hot tub.

“I like the sound of that.”

The steam of the hot tub hovers lazily on the surface of the water. The steam curls around jungkook as his gaze locks on you. Body dry cause you haven’t gotten in yet. You walk onto the deck, the dim but still bright enough lights radiant off your skin, as though the sun has come to pay him a visit at night.

His breath is caught.

The bikini hugs you in all the ways that made his thoughts falter, the curves of your body illuminated by the soft glow of the light. He swallows hard, his mouth dry despite being surround by water. You make him weak, so much that he looks only at you, even though your attention is else were. You try to find a place to hook your towels.

And then you turn around to smile at him in victory of finding a place to hang them. He nods acknowledging but no paying attention.

He leans back slightly, the water lapping at his shoulders as his eyes roam you, mesmerized. There’s some thing unworldly about you, something he can’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the way you looked, that made him trip for you. It was the way you carried yourself, the way your body swayed as you moved closer to him.

His arms immediately reach out to envelope you. “Enjoying the view?” you tease, your voice relaxing into the tub and his warmth.

The chuckle he releases is low, “you know I am.”

Your giggle like a melody. You wrap your arms around him and he loses his stability for a second before regaining it. “careful.” He murmurs to you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I might drown.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” you peck his lips.

You relax for a while just taking in the night and each other presence.

Jungkook has been meaning to ask, the question eating at his mind. “Do you want to go back to Korea with me?” it sounds like a dumb question, you came together so you will be leaving together.

But the double meaning lies within and he’s desperate to know your answer.

“What are you saying?” you coo at him. “Aren’t we already going back together.” You’re talking about the tangible stuff, the tickets, the plane, the flying, even the landing and going home. But he doesn’t mean that.

After pecking your shoulder water sticking to his lips, he explains. “I don’t mean physically.”

You stare down at him eyes softening. “kook” you realize the seriousness of his question. And for a second jungkook senses scepticism. So, he panics.

“If it’s bout my job, I’m working on it.” His voice is quick.

That was a fear of yours, even more that he wouldn’t want to move. Jungkook has thought about it, the move was a rush decision he never spoke to anyone about it to ask their opinion or whatever. And honestly the move didn’t bring him much joy, besides the opportunity to adventure Jeju. But apart from that he was away from his family, his friends and you. Everything that made his life.

“Seriously?” you say more shocked than anything else.

“Yeah, Namjoon called me. My transfer got approved.”

You gasp the water swashing from your movement. “don’t lie to me”

He laughs. “I’m not.”

“I thought you said getting it approved is hard.” You’re finding this so hard to believe.

“It is, I guess I got lucky.”

You squeal moving in to hug him.

“When did you start all this.” It’s along process so he had to start early.

“Honestly before we broke up. I wanted to surprise you if it got approved. But then-” you shush him from going on further.

“So, what would have you done if it didn’t get approved.” Your tone drops.

Jungkook sighs looking around in thought. “would’ve fucking quit.” it’s funny how easy the idea is for him, former him would have struggled with the question. “I’m tired of being so far from you.”

“Same.” He places a longer and soft kiss on your lips.

“So, you wanna go back with me?” His voice is playful, as he looks up at you through wet lashes.

“Mhm.” You smile, leaning slightly closer to him, your fingertips tracing lazy circles on his shoulder. “I wanna go everywhere with you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, warm and intimate, as his lips lifts into a small, boyish grin. “We can arrange that.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind being patched to your side like a little purse dog. In fact, the way he leans into you now, his hand slipping around your waist as if it were second nature, says he’d prefer it. His thumb grazes your hip absentmindedly, a small gesture that feels both possessive and endearing.

“I’m gonna miss it.” you say leaning into Jungkook's shoulder with a pout. You wait patiently for your flight. “Feels like we just started the trip.”

Jungkook reaches over to cup your hand in his. He then interlocks your fingers and brings it to his lips; the action causes you to smile softly. He really likes to do that. It’d never been a trait of his before, so you’re intrigued, to why he does it all of a sudden. “We can come back one day. together.”

“Yeah together.” You reassure. You like this. Like having him with you.

[3 months later]

“Jimin if you’re gonna wear that to my fucking wedding you’re not coming.” You announce to a jimin too focused on the light blue suit he’s in. in the mirror you can spot his cheeky grin. He’s not gonna wear a freaking light blue suit, it’s not on the colour scheme, plus he doesn’t like how it makes him look.

He turns to look at jungkook who’s standing on his own pedestal looking into the mirror. Touching and teasing at the suit. “Jungkook you’re not gonna let her do that right?.” Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders at jimin. He’s not pleased with the answer. He knew the dude was down bad, but not this down bad. “Bro!”

“she’s the boss.” Jungkook raises his hands in surrender and you smirk in your seat.

“Come on man…standup.” he fists at Jungkook who just laughs. As Jimin is stepping out to get out of the suit (he stayed so long in it you thought he might actually want to wear it.) and get changed, you swat him with a magazine and he’s quick to running out not wanting you to land another hit.

Now alone in the dressing room you walk up to jungkook. You lean your chin on his shoulder, your hands finding there way to his chest. He welcomes them with his own. “You look so handsome.” Your voices hums sweetly by his ear. Jungkook lifts up both of your hands to place soft and warm kisses on them. The action has you blushing red. The ring on your finger and indication of why he liked to do it before. Plus, now, he just enjoys it., it makes you blush and he likes that.

“Mhm.” He hums against your wrists. “You like it?”

“I love it.” You take a hundredth glance at a preview of what he might wear at your wedding. If he chooses it’s what he wants. You love the cut on him. the colour complimenting his skin, and the style shows off his physique, not too much, but not too little. But all the buttons on the vest and shirt are gonna give you some trouble undoing.

Jungkook stares at you completely enamoured at the way you’re looking at it. You should be looking at him like that. “I think you might love the suit more than me.” He turns abruptly causing you to fall into his chest. He catches and keeps you stable with his firm hand on your lower back.

You place one hand on his chest and the other around his neck, bringing you much closer. “I might just.” Your lips could meet easily with how close you are. But you don’t move them and jungkook pouts at how you deny him the opportunity.

“I’m gonna take it off, not gonna let you love it more.” He nudges his nose with yours.

“Take it off.”

“Jeon Yn! I forgot how freaky you are.” You roll your eyes at how he’s already given you his last name, you like the sound of it though. Reminds you of how real this is, you’re not dreaming.

Trying to tease him more you move by his ear to whisper, “Not here though.”

Jungkook is biting his lower lip. “We should hurry then.” he moves to kiss your shoulder, your off-the-shoulder top giving him leeway to kiss your skin directly. He peppers more kisses from your shoulder to your neck before you get carried away you’re prompting for him to turn around. He does, though reluctantly.

You giggle.

“Do you like it though?” your voice turns serious, as much as you like it and how you just want to see him in it the whole day. If he likes it matters.

“Yeah, it makes me look so…husband.” He smiles boyishly as he winks at you in the mirror.

“Oh-gosh.” You push yourself away from him to get back to your seat. You’re not gonna be here all day.

He turns to face you. Still standing on the pedestal. “When do I get to see you in your dress” His teeth play with his lip ring as he asks curiously. The thought of you in the gown exciting him.

“When I walk down the aisle.” You stare blankly, no room for discussion. And he doesn’t, you’ve been quite stern about him not seeing you in any bridal wear until the wedding. Which he doesn’t mind, he can wait.

“Make sure it’s a ball gown so that I can slip under and hide.” He gestures his hands to elaborate what he means.

You shake your head. It’s not your style, maybe when you were a child, but you’ve grown. “I’m not wearing a ball gown.”

Ditching the jacket, he places it next to you and stands closing your legs between his. He lowers himself so your nose is touching his. His arms trap you between him and the couch. You didn’t think he was not gonna get that kiss right? He kisses you softly, then again. Then a little harder the third time, this one lasting seconds longer. You hold on his waist for stability. He kisses you once more just for the sake.

“I’m very sure you’ll look divine in whatever you pick, baby.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: so that's that. I hope I've fixed your broken heart from I-redo. there are scenes that i couldn't fit in. Yes of course there are other activities they did, but if i wrote it all it would be boring and too long and would probably be pushed to next month. i wish i could've written more fluff but idk.

i will allow for story drabble request if you guys want that.

but yeah thanks, for reading, liking and commenting. much love. wishing you a happy new year.

story idea copyright of keen-li, 30.12.24

1K notes · View notes

dksfml · 2 months ago

Text

Love 119 [Part Two]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part three]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is hot when jealous, suggestive, fluff summary: your coworkers think that you and niki look cute together while jungwon, your boyfriend is literally standing next to you and it's driving him insane. word count: 3.5k author's note: hey everyone! as promised, i'm here to serve another paramedic jungwon brainrot because it's not fair to just devour this cutesy alone. enjoy and leave some notes <3 read part 1 first and reply if you want to get tagged for the next parts!

You’re midway through a lukewarm coffee in the hospital cafeteria when your coworker leans in, voice low and eyes gleaming with intrigue. “So…” she starts, drawing the word out slowly, “who’s the lucky guy?”

It takes you a second, but the question sinks in just as she tilts her head, nodding toward your neck with a smirk. Your hand instinctively rises to the spot Jungwon’s lips had claimed last night, right at the juncture of your neck and shoulder—a parting gift as you’d curled up together, something you didn’t think twice about until now.

A blush surges to your cheeks. “What? Oh, no, that’s… I scratched it too hard,” you say quickly, heat rising not only from the surprise but the memory of last night—Jungwon’s sleepy grin, the way he’d pulled you close, whispering in your ear as he pressed soft kisses down the curve of your neck.

“Sure you did,” she teases, crossing her arms as her smirk widens. “You’re going to need a better excuse than that. So… is it Niki?”

“What?” you laugh, the idea so out of the blue it’s almost comical. “Niki? Why would you even think that?”

She shrugs, the smugness on her face never faltering. “You always have a soft spot for him. You never scold him like the rest of us. Plus, everyone’s seen the way he hovers around you in the halls, he’s clearly smitten.”

Your eyes widen at the notion. Niki, your young, eager junior who fumbles his way through shifts and who you can’t help but look after because he’s new and a little too starry-eyed for his own good? It’s laughable. “It’s not like that,” you manage, shaking your head. “He’s just… young, that’s all.”

“Mhmm,” she says with a knowing chuckle. “Sure, if you say so.”

Before you can protest further, your phone vibrates. Glancing down, you find a message from Jungwon: a photo of his lunch, neatly arranged with a sweet message beneath it. “Eat well, ily.”

The casual intimacy of it makes your stomach flip, and you feel an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You quickly swipe away the notification, hoping she didn’t see the smile or the faint hearts in your eyes.

The day unfolds in the usual rush of patient check-ins, chart updates, and emergency calls. You busy yourself to the point where the cafeteria conversation drifts from your mind—until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the break room mirror and spot the faint outline of that now-infamous hickey, the concealer having barely managed to mask it. You tug your collar higher, hoping to hide it through the rest of the shift.

The afternoon in the ER has been a blur of movement and urgency, leaving you barely a moment to breathe. Every time an ambulance pulls up, your heart skips a beat, half-hoping, half-dreading that it’ll be Jungwon walking through those doors.

But each time, it’s someone else, and you return to the steady rhythm of your work, instructing Niki at your side as he follows your lead. Despite the tense environment, he’s attentive and focused, learning from you as he manages each step of the patient’s treatment with remarkable ease.

Afterward, you and Niki head back to the department office, the adrenaline settling as you both chat lightly, unwinding from the chaotic pace. As you enter, you spot Jungwon down the corridor, heading the other way with a stack of documents.

It’s almost comical how, even amidst the bustling hospital, his presence stands out so starkly to you. For a split second, he glances your way, and the fleeting moment feels charged, pulling your attention and making it impossible to look away. But as soon as your eyes meet, you glance down, hoping no one notices how that brief connection leaves your pulse racing.

Once back at your desk, you feel your coworkers’ eyes on you, their curious glances flickering between you and Niki. You try to brush it off as nothing, settling into your usual seat, with Niki across from you. Just as you’re starting to sift through some files, Jungwon’s familiar stride enters the department office.

His easy confidence fills the room, and he greets everyone with that understated charm, heading to a nearby colleague to ask for specific documents. You’re not even looking at him, but his presence is impossible to ignore. You focus on your papers, hoping that looking busy might steady your nerves, but the pages blur in front of you, your mind too distracted by the fact that he’s just a few steps away.

Then, just as you’re juggling a pile of documents, you accidentally knock over your iced coffee. The mostly empty cup clatters over, spilling what’s left onto your coat. The moment the coffee splashes onto your coat, Niki and Jungwon are both at your side in an instant. Niki’s quick to pull out a box of tissues, while Jungwon silently holds out a pristine handkerchief, a touch of annoyance already flickering in his gaze.

Caught off-guard, you instinctively reach for Niki’s tissues, leaving Jungwon standing there with his handkerchief, his jaw tightening slightly as he watches you dab at the stain.

Your coworkers notice the scene and immediately latch onto it, their laughter filling the room. "Oh, come on, you two," one of them teases, grinning at the pair of you. "Why don’t you just date already?”

Another chimes in, "Yeah, it’s obvious there’s something going on. I mean, look how attentive Niki is—always ready to help you out."

You wave them off, laughing it away, but the teasing only grows louder. Someone else playfully nudges Niki. "What’s next, bringing her coffee in the morning?"

Niki laughs, scratching the back of his head, visibly flustered. "Come on, guys, we’re just… coworkers," he insists, though his blush only adds fuel to the fire.

Meanwhile, you can feel Jungwon’s gaze on you, sharper and more intense than ever. His silence speaks volumes; the usual relaxed confidence he carries seems to be tinged with something harder, a jealousy that simmers just beneath the surface. It unsettles you, tugging at something guilty inside as the teasing around you grows.

Suddenly, Jungwon steps forward to you, interrupting the chatter with a clipped tone. "Enough with the tissues,” he says, leveling his gaze at you, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Stop fussing with that coat—you’re only making it worse. Change into something clean, or the smell will stick with you all day.”

The room falls silent, your coworkers exchanging amused glances. You roll your eyes, unwilling to let him get the last word.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Practicality. I can handle a few drops of coffee,” you retort, folding your arms and meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin.

He raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

"Right, because dealing with a coffee stain is something you’re well-prepared for," he says dryly, folding his arms to match yours. "Clearly, practicality isn’t your strong suit."

You scoff, refusing to back down. "And since when did you become an expert in coffee stain management? It’s barely noticeable, and I’m perfectly fine with it."

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, the challenge sparking between you both as he leans in just a fraction, his voice lower. "Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t mean everyone else is." His eyes flick down to the stain and then back up to yours, a knowing glint in them.

Your coworkers are watching with raised brows, amused but also visibly intrigued by the tension between the two of you. "Are we interrupting something?” one of them jokes, breaking the silence. "Honestly, the way you two bicker is like a married couple."

The comment makes you blush, but Jungwon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he holds your gaze, his smirk deepening. "At least one of us knows how to handle these little emergencies,” he quips, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something raw behind his eyes—a hint of jealousy that only you can catch. The way he’s looking at you, there’s no mistaking it: he’s anything but amused by the teasing around Niki.

But before you can respond, Niki steps forward, awkwardly placing his coat over your chair. “Um, here,” he says, clearly trying to ease the tension. “You can wear mine for now if the coffee’s bothering you that much.”

The room erupts into more laughter, someone nudging Niki with a grin. "See? He’s a gentleman. Really, you two should just make it official."

Another coworker teases, "Or maybe they already have, and they’re just not telling us."

Jungwon’s expression hardens as he watches the exchange, his eyes narrowing. His gaze flickers from Niki to you, a frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.

You feel the tension growing, an almost tangible weight of jealousy in the way his jaw clenches, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

Finally, he speaks up, cutting through the laughter with a controlled but slightly irritated tone. "Enough of the matchmaking." His gaze falls pointedly on you, something possessive flickering there, though he masks it quickly. "And you should change. That coffee smell won’t just vanish."

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to back down. "If it bothers you so much, why don’t you bring me a change of clothes yourself?"

"Thanks," he says shortly, taking the stack of paperwork with a polite nod. He turns back to you and your coworkers, offering a quick, “See you all later. Take care, everyone.” His voice is casual, but as his gaze lingers on you for a fraction of a second longer, you feel the weight of everything left unsaid.

With that, Jungwon strides toward the door, his usual self-assured calm back in place. You watch him leave, but just as he reaches the exit, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, your pulse quickening as you read the message from him:

“I have something you can change into in the back of the car.”

It’s simple, yet there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You glance up just in time to catch Jungwon’s silhouette disappearing down the hallway, feeling the tension of the moment linger in the air long after he’s gone.

The rest of your shift rolls by with its usual demands, and you brush off the incident from earlier, deciding against getting the change of clothes Jungwon offered. By the time you finally clock out, the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the nearly empty parking lot. Just as you step out of the hospital doors, Jungwon’s car pulls up in front of the exit.

You feel a small smile tugging at your lips as you walk over and slip into the passenger seat. “Hey,” you greet him, but his focus remains straight ahead, his hands firm on the wheel, his paramedic uniform clinging to his form. The sight of him in that navy blue uniform, complete with the badge and patches, usually makes your heart race, but today his expression is unreadable. A flicker of surprise hits you. Jungwon, who is usually quick with a playful remark, doesn’t even turn his head as you settle in, leaving you feeling a bit deflated.

You tilt your head, watching him closely, noticing the slightest crease of annoyance in his brow. With a slight pout, you try breaking the ice, “So, how was your day?”

He answers, but his tone is clipped, barely more than a few words. "Busy. The usual."

You blink, feeling a hint of tension in the air. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes or filling the car with easy chatter, but now he’s focused on the road with a seriousness that feels almost uncharacteristic.

Leaning back in your seat, you give him a sideways glance. “Is this about the clothes?” you finally ask, crossing your arms as you look at him. “Are you upset I didn’t change into them?”

A quick denial. “No,” he says, a bit too fast, but still refusing to look your way.

You can’t help but smile a little, noticing his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual. “Uh-huh. Doesn’t sound like you’re not upset,” you tease, leaning forward to get a better look at his face.

“I’m not upset,” he repeats, but he’s biting his lip, eyes fixed stubbornly ahead as if he’s hyper-focused on the road. His brow furrows, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Come on, Jungwon, it’s cute when you sulk,” you say, your smile widening at the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly, revealing his irritation in the most subtle way.

This finally gets a reaction. He glances at you, his eyes narrowing just a little. “I’m not sulking,” he mumbles, but the denial lacks its usual conviction.

“You look pretty sulky to me,” you murmur, enjoying the rare moment of catching him off guard.

Just then, the car comes to a stop at a red light, and you glance over to find him holding a long breath, his expression somewhere between frustration and fondness. The tension in the air shifts slightly as he turns his gaze towards you, and in that moment, you feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Without breaking eye contact, he places his right hand gently on your lap, rubbing small circles with his thumb. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting that familiar spark between you two. It’s a simple gesture, yet it feels so intimate, especially with the way he’s staring at you as if he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say out loud.

He resumes driving as the light turns green, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but his voice softens, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the usual bravado. “I’m not upset,” he assures you, though the sincerity behind his words hints at something deeper, something he’s wrestling with beneath the surface.

You can’t help but smile at him, the weight of his earlier mood lifting slightly. “Then what’s with the whole silent treatment? You know you can just tell me, right?”

Jungwon shakes his head, a faint smile creeping onto his face despite his mood.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, his voice maintaining a lightness that’s undercut by an earnest edge. “I don’t want to be the guy who gets all worked up over people assuming you and Niki are a thing.”

You bite your lip, the realization sinking in that his jealousy is more about their perceptions than the spilled coffee earlier.

“Well, I’m definitely not dating Niki,” you reply softly, trying to ease his tension. “He’s just a good coworker. You know that.”

He glances at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile as he focuses back on the road.

“Good,” he mutters, his hand still gently rubbing your thigh, sending tingles coursing through you. The intimacy of the gesture makes your heart race.

He passes another intersection and accelerates, the car moving smoothly through the streets.

“But you know,” you continue, trying to keep the mood light, “if you were just a little quicker with your offer, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this teasing.”

Jungwon lets out a soft chuckle, the tension in the car easing slightly. “I thought I was quick enough,” he says, a playful tone returning to his voice. “How was I supposed to know you’d be so stubborn?”

“Stubborn? Me? Never,” you tease, rolling your eyes dramatically.

He shakes his head with a laugh, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh, a subtle reminder of the unspoken bond between you two. As he navigates the streets, the silence stretches comfortably, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of traffic.

“Hey, you should know,” you add after a moment, “if you want to make sure I’m not wearing Niki’s clothes, maybe you should just… keep me in yours.”

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Is that your way of saying you want me to dress you?”

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, biting your lip again, the playful banter making you feel bold.

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls into a quiet parking lot. “You really know how to make me feel like I’m the jealous one, huh?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you say, leaning back into the seat, enjoying the rhythm of the moment.

As he turns off the engine, the atmosphere shifts slightly, the playful banter fading into a more intimate silence. Jungwon finally meets your gaze, his expression earnest. “Just so you know, it’s not about Niki. I just…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “I want to be the one you lean on, the one you trust.”

Your heart swells at his confession, a warmth spreading through you. “You are, Jungwon. You’re the one I always want to lean on.”

He smiles, a genuine light returning to his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right.

When you arrive at your apartment, Jungwon opens the door for you, the familiar scent of your space washing over you. As soon as you step inside, he follows closely behind, and before you can even set your bag down, he closes the door and turns to face you.

In an instant, the air between you shifts. Jungwon steps forward, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. You barely have time to react before he captures your lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss that takes your breath away. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you and the electric tension that crackles in the air.

His lips move against yours with a fervor that surprises you, and you feel your heart racing, responding instinctively as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, his mouth coaxing yours open as he explores the sweetness of your taste. It’s intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the moment, your worries and doubts melting away.

In the midst of the kiss, he breaks away for just a moment, breathless and looking down at you with those soft eyes. “I can still smell the coffee,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You giggle, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the reminder of the earlier incident making you giddy. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for that to happen,” you reply, your voice teasing but breathless.

“Maybe I should get you a proper change of clothes next time,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But then he adds, more seriously, “You should probably take those off; the smell will cling to you.”

His suggestion sends a thrill through you, and you find yourself biting your lip in excitement. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to take them off?” you tease, your heart racing as you lean closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

He chuckles softly, but there’s a glint of something deeper in his eyes. “Okay, maybe it’s a little selfish,” he admits, his breath ghosting over your skin as he moves in even closer.

With a playful grin, you decide to indulge him. “Fine, but only if you do too,” you say, your fingers finding the buttons of his uniform. You start to unbutton it, your hands trembling slightly with anticipation. Each button that comes undone reveals more of his toned physique, and your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him.

As your fingers glide over the fabric, Jungwon watches you, his expression a mixture of desire and admiration. “You know, this might be the best idea you’ve ever had,” he murmurs, his voice low and enticing.

You finally push the uniform off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. In that moment, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intimate. He captures your lips again, and you feel the heat between you both intensify as you pull away the last barriers that had been keeping you apart.

Just when you think it can't get any more intense, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he admits, his breath mingling with yours, creating a palpable tension that thrums in the air.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask, your voice teasing yet filled with warmth.

“You know I can’t let everyone find out I’m dating the hottest doctor in the hospital, or else…” he argues, a playful grin breaking through his earlier seriousness.

“Oh, please,” you bite back with a smirk, playfully nudging him. “Like they wouldn’t notice that the ‘sexiest and charming paramedic’ is completely smitten.”

With a smile that could light up the room, you lean in for another kiss, feeling the world around you fade away once again as you get lost in him.

[part one] [part three]

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bluerosefox · 9 months ago

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Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

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cuntyji · 3 days ago

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MEOW OR NEVER ౨ৎ GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: when your mom told you to steer clear of men, you didn't think she meant all of them - fur, whiskers, and all. but hey, maybe naming your cat mr. pickles was where you went wrong, considering she's apparently a mrs. now. and oh, she's pregnant. great. just fantastic. enter suguru geto, your drop-dead gorgeous neighbor, who's not just good at stealing glances but also at being a reluctant father - well, kitten father. turns out, his annoyingly smug orange menace named gojo's the reason you're now an unplanned (grand)parent. is this co-parenting arrangement going to end in peace, or in pieces? or worse, feelings? spoiler alert: suguru geto's got more than just child support to offer, and he's about to prove it in ways that'll have you questioning who the real stray here is.

warnings & tags: fluff and crack, eventual romance, no angst, geto is a year older than reader, geto is an (international) law student implied to be rich, reader's college program is not specified, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual smut (oral, f & m + 69). cast: geto, catoru (gojo is a tabby cat), yaga, sukuna, choso, yuuji, shoko, brief mention of utahime and nanami.

author's note: how i feel adding a graphic after not touching any editing apps since eight grade: 🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺. first long-fic on here and it is obviously for my @norikuna <3 i had so much fun writing geto, i hope you like this, and yes i named her mr. pickles after your meet-cute fic/s. ‼️ i recommend reading on ao3, as tumblr's formatting this fic very poorly and often times the fic has long paragraphs mashed together. i'm so sorry, but please enjoy!

chapter one: guess who's expecting (hint: it's not you)

when your mother warned you to stay away from men, you didn’t realize she meant all species of men. in your defense, you didn’t even know mr. pickles was…well, a dudette. a full-fledged woman, even.

judging by her usual air of indifference toward the struggles of life—whether it be a broken mug, burnt toast, or the existential dread and fear of capitalism looming over you—you’d assumed she was male. an assumption, it seems, born of sheer hubris. after all, you’d done thorough background checks on everyone else you let into your life. everyone except the stray cat that had waddled into your overpriced studio apartment one rainy night and decided it was hers.

the truth? you didn’t mind. between cramming for your degree and surviving the post-mortem of your relationships (both romantic and platonic, because apparently humans are terrible at consistency), mr. pickles became the one reliable constant in your life. albeit a hairy, aloof constant who occasionally brought you hairballs and dead bugs as sacrificial offerings to her goddess. you, of course, were said goddess.

any normal, functioning adult would have taken her to a shelter, or maybe put up a flyer: “found: one stray cat, bad attitude included.” but you, lonely soul that you were, took her in. except, it hadn’t been that simple. no, the first night you met her was anything but serene.

you were drunk. plastered. wobbling through the door with a bag of takeout in one hand and your heels in the other, ready to collapse onto your bed and dream about a life where rent didn’t cost your soul. but instead of an empty apartment greeting you, there she was. sitting smack in the middle of your living room like some furry squatters’ rights advocate, tail flicking with utter disdain.

you froze, still holding the doorknob, as your eyes locked with hers.

"what the—" you whispered, blinking hard to confirm you weren’t hallucinating. nope, she was real.

the cat let out a long, guttural “yeowwwwwwwwwl,” like she was just as horrified by you as you were by her.

you screamed. naturally. "who are you?! how did you get in here?! security’s supposed to be good—oh my god, is that a rat?"

she screamed back, launching into an impressive round of yowls that rattled your very bones. it became a chaotic symphony of you, still holding your takeout, pointing at her with your shoe, while she darted back and forth in an apparent panic over your panic.

"okay, okay," you gasped after what felt like hours but was probably five minutes. "just—calm down! i’ll call the cops or animal control or—do i even know animal control’s number? is that a thing people know?!"

the cat paused mid-panic, tilting her head as if considering whether you were worth the hassle. then, slowly and with the grace of a self-proclaimed queen, she sat back down.

you stood there, panting, wide-eyed, and still clutching your takeout like a lifeline. "are…are you done? can i move now?"

she gave a single chirp in response.

you blinked. "was that a yes?"

another chirp.

"okay, cool. good talk," you muttered, inching toward the kitchen counter to set your stuff down. "you know, you really picked the wrong apartment to haunt, bro. you don’t wanna hang out here."

she followed you, hopping onto the counter with zero hesitation.

"oh, you’ve got nerve," you grumbled, waving a hand. "get down. that’s…oh my god, is that chicken grease? you’re gonna get salmonella. do cats get salmonella?"

the cat meowed, which you took as a very sarcastic no.

you sighed. "great. now i’ve got a cat."

let’s rewind back to the future, to the moment you found out mr. pickles had a party of tiny paws brewing in her belly. it wasn’t an epiphany that hit you like a bolt of lightning—no, it was a series of increasingly bizarre events that gradually chipped away at your ignorance until the horrifyingly adorable truth came crashing down.

first, let’s talk about “pinking up.” apparently, around 16-20 days into pregnancy, a cat’s nipples turn pinker and more prominent—a fact you learned after a very awkward google search. not that you were actively inspecting mr. pickles’ nipples. that felt…wrong. but you did notice, eventually. the weight gain started subtly, a little extra fluff around her midsection that you brushed off as the result of switching to a premium brand of cat food. "guess the organic kibble’s working," you mumbled one evening as mr. pickles sprawled on the couch like a spoiled heiress. she blinked at you, unimpressed, before rolling onto her side, belly on full display. it was… rounder than usual. suspiciously so. but denial is a hell of a drug.

then came the morning she beat you to the bathroom. literally.

you were nursing a wicked hangover, the kind that makes you reconsider every life decision leading up to the night before. groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom, only to freeze in the doorway. there was mr. pickles, perched in your shower cubicle, hurling her guts out like she’d been partying harder than you. "what the—" you started, but she cut you off with another violent retch. you just stood there, slack-jawed, your own nausea momentarily forgotten. "are you… hungover? can cats be hungover?" she ignored you, finishing her business before hopping out of the shower with a nonchalance that screamed you’ll clean that up, right?

and the sleeping? don’t even get started on the sleeping. mr. pickles, your once lively (read: temperamental) companion, now spent her days passed out in the weirdest positions. you’d leave for class, catch her sprawled upside down on the couch with her legs in the air, and come back hours later to find her in the exact same spot. the first time it happened, you panicked.

“mr. pickles?” you whispered, crouching beside her. no response.

"oh my god, are you dead?" you poked her back. nothing.

just as you were about to call your landlord and have him prepare for the worst, mr. pickles let out the laziest, most judgmental yawn you’d ever heard.

then came the personality shift. the mr. pickles you knew—the one who hissed at your laptop every time you opened it, as if microsoft word had committed a personal offense—was gone. in her place was a clingy, purring ball of affection. she started curling up on your lap while you worked, purring loud enough to rival an industrial saw. “awwww, who’s a good kitty?” you cooed, melting into the moment. and then she shed enough fur on your clothes to build a second cat.

but the final straw, the one that shattered your fragile understanding of reality, was the nesting.

you came home one evening to find mr. pickles frantically rearranging your laundry basket, clawing at the clothes and dragging them into a fluffy pile. she paused when you entered, her eyes wild with an intensity you’d never seen before.

"uhh…what are you doing?" you asked, only to be met with a deep, guttural growl. "okay, that’s new," you muttered, backing away slowly. "you do…whatever that is."

it hit you then. the weight gain, the puking, the clinginess, the nesting. oh my god.

"oh my god," you whispered, clutching the counter for support. "mr. pickles is a girl."

your world tilted. memories of every time you called her sir or buddy flashed before your eyes. you were the problem.

you rushed her to the vet the next day, bursting through the door like a contestant on a reality show. "she’s been acting weird," you blurted to the receptionist. "and by weird, i mean…is she pregnant?"

one checkup later, the vet turned to you with a warm smile and uttered the words that changed everything: “congratulations, you’re a mother.”

your jaw dropped. "what? no. no, i’m not. she’s—she’s the mother!" you gestured wildly to mr. pickles, who was now lounging on the exam table like this was all very boring. the vet chuckled. “well, technically, that makes you a grandmother.”

a grandmother. you, a college student, were a grandmother.

as you drove home in stunned silence, mr. pickles stretched out in the passenger seat, her belly looking smugly round. you glanced at her, still reeling.

“does this mean i have to start calling you mrs. pickles now?”

she purred. of course she purred.

chapter 2: welcome to parenthood, kinda

the day after the vet visit, you were a woman on a mission. holding mr. pickles up like she was a fragile artifact, you found yourself wandering the corridors of your apartment building, knocking on doors and attempting to uncover the truth behind your feline’s unexpected condition. sure, your mother raised you single-handedly, but did that mean you had to take on the role of a cat grandmother solo? absolutely not.

the first stop was masamichi yaga, your landlord. you weren’t sure why you started with the most intimidating person in the building, but desperation has a way of clouding judgment. his door creaked open, revealing the towering man himself, wearing a slightly bemused expression. “uhh …good morning, mr. yaga,” you stammered, clutching mr. pickles tighter for moral support. “i—uh—wanted to ask…do you have a cat?” he raised an eyebrow. “a cat?”

“yeah,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your grip on mr. pickles. “because, um, she’s pregnant, and i was wondering if—well, you know…”

yaga blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “no, i don’t have a cat. the only thing i house around here is pandas.”

you stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. “...pandas?”

“yup. no cats.”

you decided not to press further. “right. okay. thanks, anyway.” you shuffled away, cheeks burning, as he closed the door behind you with a definitive click.

next, you made your way to choso’s apartment. you’d seen the guy a few times in the hallway—tall, always dressed like he’d just walked out of a corporate ad, with an aura of quiet exhaustion that screamed salaryman. when he opened the door, he looked down at you with mild surprise, a coffee mug in one hand. “hi,” you greeted, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. “i, uh, have a question. do you happen to own a cat?”

choso blinked, glancing at mr. pickles, who let out a disinterested meow. “no, i don’t.”

“are you sure?” you pressed. “because my cat is pregnant, and—”

“i’m sure,” he cut in gently, though his tone held the same weariness you felt every monday morning. “i barely have time to take care of my brothers, let alone a pet.”

“brothers?”

“yeah.” he took a sip of his coffee. “one of them’s a high schooler. the other one…well, he’s sukuna.”

you froze. “wait. sukuna? as in, the scary guy with the tattoos who glares at everyone when he smokes in the hallway?”

choso nodded. “he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

you had your doubts but decided not to argue. “right. okay. thanks anyway.”

your next stop was shoko’s apartment. you’d always admired her cool, no-nonsense vibe, but the dark circles under her eyes told you she probably didn’t have time for a pet. still, you knocked. when the door opened, shoko stood there, looking like she hadn’t slept in three days but somehow still pulled it off effortlessly.

“hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “do you have a cat?”

“a cat?” she repeated, leaning against the doorframe. “no. i’m barely home enough to keep my plants alive, let alone a pet.”

you nodded, biting back a sigh. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“why?” she asked, eyeing mr. pickles. “is she yours?”

“yeah. she’s pregnant.”

shoko raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “congrats, grandma.”

“don’t remind me,” you groaned. “thanks anyway.”

lastly, you tried suguru geto’s apartment. according to the building’s handbook, he was your neighbor on the floor above. but when you knocked, there was no answer. “great,” you muttered, glancing down at mr. pickles. “our prime suspect isn’t even home. what now?”

mr. pickles responded by squirming in your arms, clearly unimpressed with your sleuthing skills.

defeated, you trudged back to your apartment, where the reality of impending grandmotherhood sank in further. with no leads and no one to pin the blame on, you flopped onto your couch, setting mr. pickles down beside you. she stretched lazily, looking far too pleased with herself.

“this is your fault, you know,” you muttered, pointing a finger at her. she responded with a purr, curling up into a fluffy ball of indifference.

great. just great. looks like you were in this alone—again.

evening rolled in, and with it came mr. pickles’s dinner time. lately, you’d been overly cautious about her diet and mood—the whole pregnancy thing and all—but tonight? tonight she was testing your last nerve. there she was, stationed by the door like her life depended on it, yowling dramatically with an almost operatic flair. her tail flicked like a metronome, her cries growing more pitiful by the second. “oh, come on,” you groaned, setting her food bowl down with an exasperated sigh. “what’s with you tonight? you’ve eaten like, three times already.”

mr. pickles, naturally, ignored you, clawing at the door with all the determination of someone who just had to get out. “fine,” you muttered, stomping toward the door. “but i swear, if there’s a stray out there, you can explain yourself, motherf—”

you flung the door open mid-rant and promptly froze.

standing in your doorway was a man. a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome man with long, silky black hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and bangs that framed his angular face like he’d just stepped off the cover of handsome landlord quarterly. he wore a plain black sweater, dark trousers, and an expression that was equal parts bemused and apologetic. but your attention snapped to the cat he was holding aloft—an orange tabby with piercingly bright blue eyes that were somehow both smug and indifferent at the same time. “uh…hi,” he said, his voice deep and smooth with an edge of uncertainty. “this yours?”

“that’s…not my cat,” you managed, pointing awkwardly at the tabby.

“figured,” he said, glancing past you into your apartment where mr. pickles was now peeking out, her ears perked and tail bristled like an antenna. “he’s mine. name’s gojo. found him sitting outside my door screaming his lungs out, so i thought maybe…” his words trailed off as his gaze flicked between you, mr. pickles, and gojo. then, realization dawned on his face.

“wait.” he looked at mr. pickles, then back at you. “is your cat…?”

“pregnant?” you supplied flatly. “yep. as of about a week ago, thanks for asking.”

geto—because of course you’d figured out that this very handsome man was suguru geto from the floor above—blinked, visibly processing this information. “huh,” he said finally, his brow furrowing as he glanced at gojo. “but…gojo’s neutered.”

“what?” you blurted, staring at the smug orange tabby who looked anything but neutered. “yeah, had it done ages ago.” geto tilted his head, clearly as baffled as you. “so how the hell…?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache blooming. “you’re saying there’s no way it could’ve been him?”

“not unless he figured out how to reverse a neuter,” geto said dryly, his lips twitching in a bemused smile. you both looked at the cats the—gojo, lounging smugly in geto’s arms, and mr. pickles, glaring daggers from the safety of the couch. “okay,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. “if not gojo, then who? because i don’t exactly let her out, and she’s been acting weird for weeks.”

“well…” geto began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “he did sneak out a couple of times last month, but i didn’t think—”

“oh my god,” you groaned, cutting him off. “are you telling me your supposedly neutered cat is actually some kind of feline lothario who managed to knock up my cat on one of his escapades?”

“it’s not like i planned this,” geto defended, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. you shot him a look, but before you could respond, gojo meowed loudly, almost like he was bragging. “great,” you muttered, throwing your hands up. “just great. now i have to deal with kittens, rent, and figuring out how the hell to co-parent with the guy next door who can’t keep his cat under control.”

geto chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with genuine amusement. “well, if it helps, i’m pretty good with kids. or kittens, in this case.” you stared at him, incredulous. “this isn’t funny.”

“oh, come on,” he teased, his smirk widening. “it’s a little funny.” you groaned again, retreating into your apartment. “this is a nightmare.”

“or an adventure,” geto countered, stepping back into the hallway with a casual wave. “let me know if you need any help. babysitting, moral support, whatever.” and just like that, he was gone, leaving you with a very pregnant mr. pickles, a smug orange tabby, and far too many questions about how you’d managed to land yourself in this ridiculous situation.

the realization hit you as soon as you pressed "send." oh no. oh no, no, no.

did you really just text suguru geto—your neighbor, a man who likely had better things to do than deal with your ridiculous antics a demand for child support? for cats? you flopped face-first onto your couch, groaning into a throw pillow. “what the hell is wrong with me?” mr. pickles, lounging on the armrest, flicked her tail and let out a smug little chirp, as if she’d orchestrated the entire debacle. “you’re no help,” you muttered, rolling onto your back to glare at her.

but it was too late now. the text was sent, sitting in geto’s inbox like an uninvited guest at a party. you imagined him reading it, probably over a cup of coffee in his immaculate apartment upstairs, eyebrows raised in disbelief before muttering something like, what the hell is this?

“what was i expecting?” you asked the ceiling. “a courtroom? with gojo cat wearing a tiny tie and confessing his sins?” mr. pickles yawned, completely uninterested in your spiral.

“ugh,” you grumbled, standing up. “whatever. it’s his problem now.”

bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, you shuffled to the door the next morning to grab the newspaper. the universe owed you at least one boring morning after last night’s embarrassment. but as you opened the door, your sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. there, sitting on your front porch, was a 5kg bag of premium cat food, the kind you’d seen in the store once and immediately walked past because it cost more than your monthly grocery budget. “what the…” you muttered, crouching down to inspect it.

taped to the bag was a folded piece of paper with the words “child support :)” scrawled in smooth, confident handwriting. beneath the note was what looked suspiciously like a paw print in ink. you squinted, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “no. absolutely not. did he—did they actually ink up the cat for this?” you glanced down the hallway, half-expecting geto to pop out from behind a corner and yell “gotcha!” but it was eerily quiet. mr. pickles, who had wandered over to investigate, sniffed the bag and let out an excited meow, her tail curling in approval. “of course you’re happy,” you said, picking up the note and reading it again. “this is like winning the lottery for you.”

you flipped the paper over, looking for more, but that was it. just “child support :)” and a smug paw print. “oh my god,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “he’s good. he’s really good.” you set the bag inside and grabbed your phone, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. what were you even supposed to say to this? thank you? an apology for being unhinged?

before you could overthink it, a new message lit up your screen.

geto: hope this helps. let me know if you need anything else. gojo says hi.

you stared at the message for a long moment, torn between laughter and mortification.

“what do i even say to that?” you asked mr. pickles, who was now trying to claw her way into the bag of food. she didn’t respond, obviously, but you took her enthusiasm as a sign to type out the least embarrassing reply you could muster.

you: thanks. mr. pickles says hi too. sorry about the text, was half-asleep. really appreciate this though.

a reply came almost instantly.

geto: no problem. wasn’t sure how much to get, so i just grabbed the fanciest one. figured she deserves it.

you snorted, shaking your head. “what are you, cat royalty?”

mr. pickles let out a pleased chirp, pawing at the bag triumphantly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. whatever this situation was, at least mr. pickles was happy. and, okay, maybe suguru geto wasn’t completely terrible either.

you thought life couldn’t get more ridiculous after the whole “child support” stunt. but somehow, suguru geto managed to raise the bar so high that it was practically doing pull-ups in the stratosphere. because when you stepped out of your apartment to grab some fresh air and regroup after being up all night with a cuddly mr. pickles, you realized geto had turned this entire ordeal into a neighborhood event. “did he… throw a party without telling me?” you muttered to yourself, narrowing your eyes as you spotted a small, hand-decorated sign taped to the landlord’s door. it read: "congrats to the new parents: gojo & mr. pickles!”

“new parents?” you said aloud, incredulous.

as if summoned by your confusion, choso’s door creaked open, and yuuji popped his head out, looking entirely too enthusiastic for such an early hour. “hey, neighbor! did you see the banner?” you blinked at him. “banner?”

yuuji pointed down the hallway. you squinted and, sure enough, there it was — a banner strung across the hallway ceiling that read: "welcome baby kittens!!!" in what looked like glitter glue. “oh my god.” you pressed a hand to your forehead. “he didn’t.”

“he totally did!” yuuji grinned, stepping fully into the hallway. “he came by earlier and told me about gojo being a dad. so cool, right? i mean, gojo’s kind of an idiot, but hey, every cat deserves a shot at fatherhood.”

“yuuji,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “he’s not an actual dad. this isn’t a sitcom. it’s just…biology.” yuuji shrugged. “biology, destiny, same thing. oh, by the way, geto dropped off cookies! want one?” you looked down and noticed yuuji holding a plate of cookies shaped like tiny cats.

“what the—did he bake these?”

“nah, i think he bought them,” yuuji said, biting into one. “but still. pretty neat, huh?” you groaned, muttering, “neat isn’t the word i’d use.”

just as you turned to head back into your apartment and escape the madness, there was a loud, insistent scratching at your door. you froze. “don’t tell me…”

yuuji, still chewing on his cookie, pointed. “that’s probably gojo. he’s been making rounds all morning trying to visit your cat. i think he’s really taking this fatherhood thing seriously.” you stormed to your door and there he was—gojo cat, gojo the cat, his bright blue eyes wide and hopeful as he pawed at the doorway like a love-struck romeo. “oh, for crying out loud,” you muttered, scooping him up and holding him at arm’s length as you entered your house. “what do you think you’re doing?” gojo meowed pitifully, his tail flicking as he looked past you toward mr. pickles, who was curled up on her blanket, looking utterly unimpressed. “she’s not interested, casanova,” you told him, turning to yuuji. “can you take him back before he climbs my curtains again?” yuuji laughed, taking the cat from you. “no problem. come on, gojo. let’s give her some space.”

as yuuji disappeared down the hall with gojo, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. but before you could even sit down, your phone buzzed.

geto: hope you’re enjoying the festivities. gojo’s a little excited, but who can blame him? parenthood changes you.

you stared at the message, your eye twitching.

you: i'm one sleepless night away from snapping. please stop turning my life into a hallmark movie.

geto: don’t be shy. you’re the real hero here, grandma.

you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. mr. pickles, who had been watching the entire ordeal with an air of feline superiority, let out a small, smug purr. “don’t you start,” you told her, flopping onto the couch. “at least it’s a long weekend.” but deep down, you knew there was no such thing as peace—not when suguru geto and his ridiculous orange menace were involved.

suguru geto was not having a good day.

he sighed, leaning back against his couch as the familiar hum of embarrassment settled over him. gojo cat, sprawled across the armrest, gave a half-hearted meow, probably to mock him. he’d woken up to him scratching at his front door like a lunatic, yowling for his morning ritual of inspecting the hallway for signs of mr. pickles. the normally smug and self-satisfied orange menace had been acting weird for days—restless, meowing at windows, and straight-up bolting every time geto so much as opened the front door. it had taken geto exactly one trip downstairs to realize why.

you. or more specifically, your cat.

geto hadn’t even known you had a cat until he’d knocked on your door last week, with mr. pickles in the background like some furry empress. now, not only did he know, but he also had the dubious honor of being the grandfather of mr. pickles’ unborn kittens. “how did it even come to this?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the glittery “welcome baby kittens!!!” banner he’d put up in the hallway. he knew he was making things worse for himself, but honestly, it was better than sitting in his apartment, spiraling. he sighed, looking down at gojo, who was perched on the armrest of the couch, lazily licking a paw. “you couldn’t just chill, could you?” geto said, narrowing his eyes at the cat. “no, you had to go and ruin my already complicated life. do you know how awkward this is? do you?”

gojo blinked at him, clearly unbothered. “of course you don’t,” geto muttered. “you’re a cat.”

the thing was, geto had genuinely thought he’d be cool about this whole situation. sure, it was a little weird to be co-parenting kittens with the girl he’d had a hallway crush on for months, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it. except he wasn’t handling it. he’d told yuuji. he’d told yaga. he’d even left cookies for shoko. and now half the building knew about gojo’s escapades. “what am i doing?” he groaned, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. “you know, this is all your fault,” geto muttered, glaring at the cat. gojo, unbothered, blinked lazily.

geto had been a lot of things in his years of life—student, aspiring lawyer, occasional cat dad—but one thing he wasn’t was smooth when it came to you. you, the girl from another department who lived one floor below him. you, the one who always looked like you belonged in a wes anderson movie, with your half-hidden smiles and humour. you, who somehow managed to make even the most mundane hallway interactions feel like they had a gravitational pull. geto groaned, pressing his palms into his face. he was this close to becoming a tragic cliché.

it wasn’t like he’d never tried to talk to you before. he had. there was that one time in the campus library, where he’d psych himself up for twenty minutes only for you to leave before he could string a coherent sentence together. or the time in the cafeteria when he thought about offering you a seat at his table but chickened out because he was certain his friends would tease him for weeks. “this is what rock bottom feels like,” he muttered to himself.

he wasn’t even supposed to live in this building. as an international law major with a full schedule and internships on the horizon, he should’ve been in one of the fancier complexes closer to campus, but fate—or sheer bad luck—had landed him here. not that he could complain. not when you were his downstairs neighbor. he had always figured you were out of reach, though. you had this aura of being completely in your own world—poised, a little reserved, but not in a way that came off as unapproachable. more like you were quietly observing the chaos around you, letting it wash over you like a passing breeze. and he’d been content to admire you from afar. well, mostly content. but now? there was a knock at the door.

geto froze.

“please don’t let it be her,” he whispered, praying to whatever higher power might be listening.

it was you. standing in his apartment building, holding a note he wrote about “child support.”

“hey,” you said, holding up a piece of paper. “you forgot this.”

“oh,” he said dumbly. “right. thanks.”

you stepped inside, looking around at the various cat-themed decorations geto had somehow acquired in the past 24 hours. “so… big fan of cats, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. geto felt his face heat up. “uh, yeah. something like that.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you know, you didn’t have to go all out like this. it’s not that big of a deal.”

“not a big deal?” geto repeated, incredulous. “your cat is having kittens with my cat. that’s, like… monumental.” you rolled your eyes. “they’re cats , geto. not royal heirs.”

“still,” he said, crossing his arms defensively. “i’m just trying to be responsible here.” you looked at him for a long moment, and geto swore he saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in your eyes. “responsible?” you repeated. “is that why you’ve turned our hallway into a petting zoo?” geto opened his mouth to argue but stopped when gojo jumped down from the couch and strutted over to you, rubbing against your legs like the shameless flirt he was. “traitor,” geto muttered under his breath. you crouched down to pet gojo, a small smile tugging at your lips. “well, at least someone knows how to make a good impression.”

geto stared at you, his brain short-circuiting. “uh, yeah,” he said finally. “he’s… he’s good at that.” you stood up, brushing cat fur off your hands. “anyway, thanks for the food. mr. pickles appreciates it.”

“no problem,” geto said, trying to sound casual. “you know, if you ever need help with… anything, just let me know.” you raised an eyebrow. “like what? cat parenting classes?”

“sure,” geto said, shrugging. “or, you know, anything else.” you gave him a long, considering look before finally nodding. “i’ll keep that in mind,” you said, turning to leave. “thanks, grandpa.”

geto groaned as the door closed behind you. “what am i even doing?” he muttered again, looking down at gojo, who had jumped back onto the couch, looking entirely too smug. the cat meowed, as if to say, you’re welcome.

chapter 3: first we stalk, then we brunch

later in the evening, you found yourself huddled under your comforter, laptop balanced precariously on your knees. mr. pickles was curled up at your feet, occasionally flicking her tail, as if silently judging you. you ignored her. tonight, you had a mission: to do a deep dive into the enigma that was suguru geto. you weren’t proud of yourself, okay? but curiosity had officially killed the cat—or at least put her temporarily out of commission. like any sensible person armed with curiosity and internet access, you turned to linkedin. not instagram, not facebook—linkedin. because nothing screams “serious investigation” like stalking someone’s professional achievements. “let’s see what we’ve got, mr. pickles,” you muttered, typing “suguru geto” into the search bar on the holy grail of professional snooping. mr. pickles perched regally at the foot of your bed, her gaze judgmental as ever. “don’t give me that look,” you muttered. “i’m doing this for you.”

within seconds, his profile loaded up, and your jaw practically hit the floor.

suguru geto wasn’t just good-looking. oh no. he was an overachiever of the highest order. his profile picture was annoyingly perfect: a candid (but totally staged) shot of him sitting at a café, holding a cup of coffee in one hand while looking thoughtfully into the distance, as if he’d just solved world hunger. his headline read:

suguru geto | international law student | aspiring global policymaker | passionate about justice and equality

“ugh,” you groaned, scrolling further. “passionate about justice? who is this guy?” his bio didn’t help matters. it was filled with phrases like ‘dedicated to fostering positive global change’ and ‘committed to bridging the gap between policy and implementation.’

“committed to being annoyingly perfect, maybe,” you muttered, side-eyeing mr. pickles. she let out a half-hearted meow that you chose to interpret as agreement. his experience section was even worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. a summer internship at the UN where he ‘assisted in drafting resolutions and collaborated with member states on sustainable development initiatives.’ worked as a legal intern at some fancy law firm with a french name you couldn’t pronounce, where he ‘focused on international human rights cases, with a specific emphasis on refugee protection.’ not to mention being a volunteer coordinator for a charity in sri lanka, where he ‘organized relief efforts and distributed supplies to displaced families during the holiday season.’

“okay, mr. pickles,” you said, glancing at the unimpressed feline. “this guy’s either a saint or a robot.” what shocked you most wasn’t his saintly résumé, but the fact that he went to the same university as you. you stared at the screen, stunned. “how the hell did i not know this?” his “education” section confirmed it:

bachelor’s in international law | current student

active member of the debate team and global policy forum

that explains it, you thought. you were a year younger and in an entirely different department—he probably had his head buried in treaties while you scrambled through your own projects. still, the idea of suguru walking the same hallways as you sent your mind reeling. “was he in the cafeteria when i spilled coffee on myself that one time?” you wondered aloud. as you continued scrolling, you stumbled upon his posts. his posts swung wildly between annoyingly inspirational and oddly endearing.

the first was a very cheesy, slightly-too-polished “ringing in the new year” post, complete with a stock photo of fireworks and an unnecessarily long caption: ‘as we close the chapter on another year, let us remember the power of community and resilience. cheers to 365 days of growth, learning, and striving for a better world!’

“uggghhh, gag me,” you snorted, though you couldn’t help but admire how polished it all was.

then there was a post featuring none other than gojo cat sprawled on a cushion, mid-snore. the caption read: ‘cats are not just pets—they are companions, teachers, and sometimes, our greatest confidants. thank you, gojo, for reminding me to appreciate the little joys in life.’

“confidants? really?” you muttered, holding back a laugh. “what secrets are you sharing with your cat, suguru?” the pièce de résistance, however, was a post about his recent trip to sri lanka. it included a photo of him kneeling next to a group of kids, all of them smiling brightly, while he held a giant sack of rice. ‘spending christmas eve here has been a humbling experience. giving is not just about material wealth but about offering hope and kindness. #holidaygiving #payitforward’

“oh, come on,” you groaned. “who even has time for all of this?” mr. pickles let out an approving meow, her ears twitching at the picture. “not you too,” you sighed. just as you were about to close the tab, a final post caught your eye. it was from a few months ago: a blurry picture of the university quad, with a caption that read: ‘sometimes, it’s the quiet moments on campus that remind you why you started this journey. grateful for this space, these people, and this path.’

“quiet moments, huh?” you mused, leaning back against your pillows. “maybe he’s not all bad.” mr. pickles let out a disapproving chirp, as if to say, focus on the fact that he’s responsible for my current condition, thank you. and just when you thought you’d seen it all, there was his international cat day post. gojo cat lay sprawled in the background, his belly exposed, looking utterly unbothered. geto had written an almost poetic ode to feline companionship. ‘in a world filled with noise, cats remind us to listen to silence. they are the quiet guardians of our souls.’

you couldn’t help but snort. “quiet guardians? mr. pickles, your baby daddy is a poet now.” mr. pickles gave a soft chirp, as if to say, better him than some nobody. “fine,” you relented, closing your laptop. “maybe he’s not terrible. just… annoyingly perfect.” but as you lay back against your pillows, a nagging thought lingered: why had he never said anything? you’d walked the same hallways, shared the same campus, yet he’d never even made a passing hello. was he too busy, or something else? either way, you weren’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. probably both.

suguru geto prided himself on being polished and refined. and he had standards okay? he wasn’t some creep skulking around in the shadows. he was a man of composure, logic, and discipline. but all of that went out the window when it came to you. he is also an upstanding citizen who just happened to know your spotify account, which he checked semi-regularly. for research purposes, obviously. it started innocently enough—getting your instagram handle. no big deal. he hadn’t even followed you right away, worried it might seem weird coming out of nowhere. it was all very calculated: a "friend of a friend of a classmate of a third cousin" pipeline that eventually led him to your public page. a click here, a scroll there, and boom—your instagram aesthetic was forever seared into his memory. but social media wasn’t enough. no, geto was too curious (and maybe just a bit too pathetic) to stop there. this led him to your spotify.

now, he didn’t just stumble upon your spotify profile by chance. this particular treasure hunt began at a house party at the start of the year. utahime had made a collaborative playlist for everyone, and while everyone else just added their favorite songs, geto decided to dive deep. deep as in scrolling through over 150 accounts connected to the playlist just to find yours. “there it is,” he had muttered triumphantly back then, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile. “gotcha.” and from that moment, your spotify profile became his guilty pleasure. your profile picture at the time? a blurry photo of what looked like you holding a glass of wine at some fancy rooftop bar. but the playlists were the real treasure.

your “gym rat” playlist was his favorite, with high energy tracks, peppered with one or two questionable choices. seriously, why was there a taylor swift song in the middle of your workout playlist? your “in the clerb, we all cryin’” playlist was interesting to say the least, comprising of indie ballads, heart-wrenching acoustics, and, for some reason, a single abba track. then there was “road trip,” featuring everything from funky throwbacks to an absurd number of songs by chappell roan. “you’ve got taste,” geto muttered to himself, clicking into the playlists one by one. “questionable taste in some areas, but still…” he often scrolled through your profile aimlessly, not necessarily looking for anything new, but just existing in your world, even if it was through music. tonight, he found himself back on your page, like some kind of masochistic ritual.

his eyes drifted to his chrome tabs, where your spotify was bookmarked for easy access. it was right there, sandwiched between his email inbox, an online soba delivery menu, an article titled “10 Tips for Acing Your Next Law Internship” and a tab about international trade law regulations. “no new playlists,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. your gym playlist hadn’t been updated in six months (“what happened to your gym rat era?”), and your grwm playlist was untouched. “slacking, hm?” gojo cat, perched on the edge of the desk, gave him a slow blink. “boring night for you too, huh?” geto sighed dramatically, glancing over at gojo cat sprawled on his lap. the feline barely flicked an ear in response. “don’t look at me like that,” geto said, narrowing his eyes at the feline. “this is completely normal behavior. i’m not stalking. i’m just… maintaining a healthy level of interest.”

“it’s not creepy,” he justified aloud, more to himself than to anyone else. “it’s resourceful. i’m just staying informed.” gojo cat stretched lazily, letting out a yawn that sounded suspiciously judgmental. “oh, don’t start,” geto shot back, tapping lightly on the cat’s head. “you’re the reason i even know her in the first place.” geto’s eyes flicked to your “gym rat era” playlist again. still untouched. “what happened to that, by the way?” he asked no one in particular. “gave up? hit your personal best and retired early?” gojo cat pawed at the corner of his laptop, as if trying to close it.

“hey, no,” geto said, swatting the cat’s paw away gently. “i’m in the middle of something important.” his finger hovered over the profile picture you’d updated—something blurry and vaguely artsy. probably taken at a bar or café. he debated clicking it but stopped himself. what was he expecting? some secret hidden bio like “hey, stop creeping”? he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “i’m not weird, right?” he asked the cat.

gojo, being a cat, offered no answer.

“right,” geto muttered. “this is perfectly reasonable. i’m just… interested. it’s not like i’m walking past her door at 3 a.m. or something.” a fleeting daydream crossed his mind—what if the two of you had a shared playlist? something intimate and special, where you both added songs and left little comments. “‘thinking of you when i added this,’” he mused in a mockingly cheesy tone, shaking his head. “god, what am i, thirteen?” still, the thought lingered, making him smile despite himself. just as he began to close the tab, a notification popped up.

[beef_boss_69 has followed you.]

his entire demeanor shifted. “beef boss? beef boss?” geto practically spat the name out. “who the hell—what kind of username is that?” he clicked on the profile, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the new follower. it was a faceless account, with no playlists or followers of its own. “oh, great,” he grumbled. “a bot. or worse, some guy who thinks he’s funny.” he glanced at gojo cat, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. “don’t give me that look,” geto said, pointing at the cat. “you’d be upset too if some guy named beef boss was muscling in on your territory.” gojo cat chirped, which suguru took as a sign of agreement. “exactly,” geto said, nodding to himself. “i mean, what’s next? chicken king 420? pork prince 88?”

he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “i should just send the linkedin request,” he muttered to himself. “rip the band-aid off. what’s the worst that could happen?” gojo cat let out a loud meow, almost as if to say, you’re never going to do it. “shut up,” geto shot back, though there was no heat behind his words. he closed your spotify tab, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at the thought of actually interacting with you. maybe tomorrow, he thought. or next week. or the next time beef boss made a move. as he shut his laptop, he made a mental note: tomorrow, he’d work up the nerve to send you a linkedin request. baby steps, right?

you weren’t even sure what had pulled you out of bed that morning. was it the ungodly racket outside your door? the growing guilt of not actually reading the paper you insisted on having delivered? or maybe just the suspiciously human-sounding yowls of mr. pickles as she nested in the corner of your room? either way, you’d dragged yourself out of bed, eyes half-closed, hair resembling a bird’s nest, and shuffled toward the door in your favorite—read: most embarrassing—pajamas. and there he was.

suguru geto, standing in front of your door in the crisp morning light, wearing an athletic jacket, sweatpants, and the expression of a man who was absolutely not ready for this level of chaos. attached to his hand was a leash, and attached to the leash was none other than gojo cat himself, strutting like he was the king of the neighborhood. “morning,” geto greeted, his tone breezy but his face clearly betraying some inner turmoil. you blinked at him. “is that… is that a harness?”

“yep.” geto scratched the back of his neck. “gojo here insisted.” as if on cue, gojo cat let out an overly dramatic meow, his bright blue eyes locking onto yours. he looked like a lion surveying his kingdom =—or, more accurately, a spoiled housecat demanding tribute. “you’re taking your cat for a walk?” you asked, still half-asleep and very much regretting this encounter. “yeah, he’s been getting a little… restless,” geto said, glancing down at the fluffball who was now trying to paw at your door. “and by restless, i mean clawing the walls like a maniac at 3 a.m.” gojo cat let out another meow, this one louder, and then craned his neck to peer behind you, as if expecting mr. pickles to emerge in all her pregnant glory. “okay, what’s he doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at the cat. “probably hoping to see his baby mama,” geto replied with a dry chuckle. you stared at him, your brain still buffering from the sheer audacity of that sentence. “baby mama?”

“look,” geto started, suddenly looking flustered, “i was wondering if you… i mean, if she … maybe we could —”

“spit it out.”

“do you wanna join us for a walk?” he blurted, his cheeks faintly pink.

gojo cat meowed again, clearly seconding the idea. or maybe he was just demanding that you bring mr. pickles along. you sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the aforementioned queen of your household, who was currently sprawled on her side like a beached whale. “she’s not exactly in the mood for exercise.” “please,” geto said, his tone bordering on desperate. “it might do her some good. and honestly, it might keep gojo from trying to scale your window again.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “fine. but you owe me breakfast for this.”

“deal,” geto said immediately, his relief almost palpable.

after an embarrassingly long five minutes of wrangling mr. pickles into her carrier—complete with angry hisses and a swat to your hand—you emerged from your apartment, looking like you were about to march into battle. “ready?” geto asked, his smile equal parts charming and sheepish. “let’s just get this over with,” you grumbled, hoisting the carrier while mr. pickles glared daggers at everyone in sight. as the four of you set off, gojo cat kept glancing back at the carrier, chirping softly as if trying to woo mr. pickles through sheer persistence. “he’s really laying it on thick, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “like father, like son,” geto joked, then immediately looked mortified at his own words. you snorted, finally cracking a smile. “careful, geto. i might actually start thinking you’re funny.” he grinned, his confidence seemingly restored. “well, miracles do happen.”

mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a low growl from her carrier, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal. gojo cat chirped in response, pressing his face to the mesh side of the carrier in what could only be described as a show of devotion. “is he always like this?” you asked, watching the ridiculous display. “only when he’s in love,” geto replied, shooting you a look that lingered just a second too long. you pretended not to notice the way your heart skipped a beat. “well, he better not get his hopes up. mr. pickles isn’t exactly the romantic type.” geto chuckled. “guess he’ll just have to win her over.” as the morning sun climbed higher, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so bad after all.

geto meanwhile, was mentally spiraling. he didn’t know what was worse—the “like father, like son” line he’d just dropped on you or the fact that you didn’t immediately burst out laughing and leave him and his ridiculous orange tabby in the dust. instead, you stayed, which only made things harder for him. literally. his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure even mr. pickles could hear it from inside her carrier. he was trying to play it cool, but how was he supposed to do that when his so-called son was busy embarrassing the hell out of him? gojo cat was living his best life, pulling on his leash like a dog on a mission. his blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he trotted beside mr. pickles' carrier, occasionally pawing at the mesh as if trying to “connect” with his beloved. mr. pickles, for her part, was clearly over it. she sat in the carrier like a disgruntled queen, her ears flat and her glare sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“your cat’s persistent,” you said, watching as gojo cat did a full circle around the carrier before flopping dramatically on the sidewalk, belly up, in what looked like a plea for attention. “he’s… special,” geto replied, attempting to reel in the leash as gojo cat kicked his legs in the air, rolling onto his side to stare mournfully at mr. pickles. “gojo, stop being weird.” gojo cat let out a pitiful meow, his paws pressing against the carrier like he was performing some romeo and juliet reenactment. “is this normal?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you crouched to take a closer look. “define normal,” geto deadpanned, tugging the leash again as gojo cat started to nudge his face against the carrier. “he’s just... enthusiastic. about life. and apparently, love.”

“mr. pickles looks like she’s about to murder him.”

mr. pickles, indeed, was having none of it. when gojo cat got too close, she raised a paw and batted at the mesh with a low growl, making geto jump. “okay, timeout,” geto said, scooping gojo cat up with one arm while holding the leash in the other. gojo cat squirmed, letting out a series of indignant chirps as if protesting his removal from the “love of his life.” “you’re really committed to this cat dad role, huh?” you teased, standing back up. “it’s not a role,” geto replied, attempting to adjust gojo cat in his arms as the feline twisted dramatically, his tail flicking with determination. “it’s a lifestyle.” you snorted, and geto decided right then and there that he would endure any amount of humiliation for the sound of your laughter.

meanwhile, gojo cat had decided he’d had enough of the timeout. with a sudden burst of energy, he wriggled free from geto’s grip and made a beeline back to mr. pickles’ carrier. he pawed at it again, letting out a chirp that sounded suspiciously like, notice me, senpai. “jesus christ, gojo,” geto muttered, scrambling to grab the leash. “can you give her some space for five seconds?”

“he’s determined,” you said, your lips twitching as you watched the scene unfold. “i’ll give him that.”

“determined to get us kicked out of the building, maybe,” geto grumbled, finally managing to wrangle gojo cat back.

mr. pickles, now thoroughly fed up, turned her back to the carrier door, her tail swishing in annoyance. she let out a loud, irritated meow, as if to say, enough of this nonsense. “looks like the queen has spoken,” you said, nodding toward mr. pickles. “yeah, well, tell that to this guy,” geto replied, holding gojo cat up like a misbehaving toddler. “i swear, he’s got no chill.”

“takes after his dad, huh?” you said with a sly grin.

geto froze, his cheeks heating up. “i—uh—he’s not my biological—uh…”

you laughed again, shaking your head.

“relax, geto. i’m just messing with you.” but before geto could recover and try to salvage what was left of his dignity, gojo cat let out another loud meow, squirming in his grip. “great,” geto muttered. “and now i’m the guy whose cat ruins his chance to make a good impression.”

“who said it was ruined?” you said casually, your gaze meeting his for a brief, heart-stopping moment. and just like that, geto decided that maybe—just maybe—gojo cat wasn’t the worst wingman in the world after all.

honestly, when you first saw geto on linkedin yesterday—highlighted internships, connections with every fancy-sounding legal firm, and posts that made him look like a diplomatic demigod—you thought, oh, great. another rich boy who probably orders his coffee by listing ten modifications and has never eaten instant noodles in his life. add gojo cat into the mix, and you were sure this guy was going to be the embodiment of an annoying private school kid, complete with a pet who demanded bottled water and artisanal treats. but this? this was unexpected. geto was, dare you say it, fun. the man actually cracked jokes, didn’t have that holier-than-thou attitude, and seemed genuinely nice. how was he even an international law major? weren’t they supposed to be the glorified MUN kids of society?

“so, what do you think of him?” geto asked, glancing down at gojo cat, who was currently doing his best impression of an olympic sprinter, chasing a rogue leaf across the path. “him?” you asked, smirking. “i think he’s a menace to society.”

“hey, that’s my son you’re talking about,” geto said, mock-offended. “like father, like son,” you shot back, and you caught the faintest twitch of his lips. “you wound me,” geto replied dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d just dealt a fatal blow. you laughed despite yourself. “i mean, am i wrong? you’re kind of a menace too, you know. showing up with that “like father, like son” line earlier.”

“that line was gold, okay?” he said, defensive but clearly holding back a grin. “besides, it worked. you’re still here, aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “you got lucky. i needed some fresh air.”

“ah, so i’m just a side quest for your morning routine. noted,” he said, looking mock-wounded again. “don’t make me regret this,” you said, though your tone was light. but then, of course, you had to spiral. because what kind of person just casually smells like bamboo? why were you even thinking about how he smelled in the first place? no, focus. you were not about to develop a crush on mr. linkedin extraordinaire.

“so, um,” geto started, scratching the back of his neck. you noticed he did that a lot when he was unsure of himself, which was oddly endearing. “did you, uh, happen to notice we go to the same university?”

“oh, i noticed,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “what i didn’t notice was how i never saw you around campus before.”

“i keep a low profile,” he said quickly, a little too quickly.

“low profile? you? with your fifteen linkedin posts about networking events and charity galas?” you teased. he flushed, and you bit back a laugh at the sight of the ever-composed suguru geto getting flustered. “that’s professional stuff,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “different vibe.”

“sure, mr. diplomat,” you said, grinning. “but seriously, why haven’t we crossed paths before?”

“well, you’re a year younger,” he mumbled, “and in a different department. plus… i might’ve…”

“might’ve what?” you pressed, leaning in just slightly.

“might’ve avoided you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “avoided me?” you repeated, blinking. “why?”

his face turned a shade darker. “because i didn’t know how to talk to you, okay?” you stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden honesty. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of gojo cat rustling through the bushes filling the silence. “well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smile, “you’re doing fine now.” he looked at you, his expression softening. “yeah, maybe.”

and just like that, the flustered energy transferred to you, because how was this guy suddenly so disarming? you quickly turned your attention to gojo cat, who had now returned, proudly carrying a twig in his mouth like it was some grand prize. “your cat’s weird,” you said, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “takes after his owner,” geto quipped, a little more confidently this time. you snorted, shaking your head. “yeah, well, you’re lucky i don’t scare easy.”

“lucky, huh?” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

you groaned inwardly. maybe you were spiraling. if mr. pickles could talk, you’d be subjected to a very long, exasperated lecture right now. and honestly? she’d have a point. because here you were, fumbling in front of what could only be described as a god-sent man—minus his questionable taste in cheesy pickup lines and feline companions. and judging by the way she was scratching insistently against the carrier’s mesh, mr. pickles had had enough. “alright, alright,” you muttered, unzipping the carrier. “but behave, okay? no swatting.”

the minute she stepped out, in all her pregnant, regal glory, gojo cat lost his mind. if there were an olympic event for wooing, he’d be taking home gold, no contest. he was meowing nonstop, his tail flicking like crazy, hopping in excited circles around mr. pickles. “good god,” geto muttered beside you, watching his cat’s antics with a mixture of horror and amusement. “he’s… persistent, isn’t he?”

“persistent? your cat’s acting like he just won the lottery,” you said, watching gojo cat crouch low and wiggle his butt like he was about to pounce. “mr. pickles deserves the best,” geto said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “she deserves peace and quiet,” you shot back, laughing as mr. pickles calmly let gojo cat have his little moment of excitement before promptly swatting him on the nose.

gojo cat froze, blinking in shock. then, as if nothing happened, he tried again. another swat.

“he doesn’t give up, does he?” you said, shaking your head. “like father, like son,” geto said with a shrug, and you snorted.

“oh, so you’re like that too, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. he froze for a second, his brain clearly buffering. then he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “i like to think i have a bit more self-control.”

“hmm,” you said, pretending to consider. “debatable.”

“harsh,” geto said, placing a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. things weren’t any better for geto. watching you laugh at his lame attempts at humor was doing something dangerous to his brain. you were so close, and the way your eyes lit up when you laughed…

he couldn’t help it. he felt the same urge gojo cat must’ve felt—like physically shaking, meowing, jumping, doing whatever it took to make sure you were looking at him. but he was a man with poise (he reminded himself), so instead of resorting to anything outrageous, he blushed furiously, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “you okay there?” you asked, noticing his face had turned an alarming shade of red. “yeah, yeah,” he said quickly, waving you off. “it’s, uh… warm out here.” you glanced up at the sky. it was barely sunny with a light breeze. “sure,” you said, smirking. “totally the weather.”

“don’t call me out like that,” he mumbled, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck again. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” you said before you could stop yourself, and the words hung in the air for a second too long. his head snapped toward you, eyes wide. “what?”

“i — nothing ,” you said quickly, suddenly very interested in the stray thread on your sweater. “no, no, go on,” geto said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing now. “what were you saying?”

“i said nothing,” you insisted, but your face was practically on fire. he grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. “mm-hmm. sure.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “mr. pickles, save me,” you muttered, but she was too busy fending off gojo cat’s latest round of attention to care. and next to you, geto was grinning like an idiot, his blush finally starting to fade as he realized he might not be the only one spiraling.

amidst the awkward giggles and blushes, your stomach decided it had enough of the coy flirting and declared war. a low, awkward rumble escaped, loud enough for both you and geto to freeze. “was that…?” geto began, his lips twitching.

“no,” you lied immediately, your face heating up. “that was probably…gojo.” as if on cue, gojo cat meowed loudly, almost like he was backing you up. but mr. pickles wasn’t having it, her head snapping toward you with a “you’re kidding, right?” look. geto, bless his golden heart, didn’t press further. instead, he scooped up a very indignant gojo, who was in the middle of another extravagant attempt to woo mr. pickles.

“sounds like breakfast is overdue,” he said, grinning. “my treat, as promised.” you hesitated, watching as mr. pickles, the opportunist she was, pranced toward her carrier with the regal air of a queen boarding her royal carriage. she gave you a look that screamed, what are you waiting for? let’s go, servant.

“uh,” you started, scratching the back of your neck. “so, funny story — i didn’t bring my wallet, and even if i did…” you trailed off, remembering the bleak state of your cashapp. $27.53 stared back at you the last time you checked. it was a miracle you even had that much. “...i wouldn’t be able to afford it.” geto blinked at you, as if you’d grown a second head. “what?”

“yeah,” you said, already feeling the mortifying urge to dig a hole and crawl into it. “i’m, uh, broke. like, hilariously broke. economy, y’know?” you added with a weak laugh. “you think i’m letting you pay?” geto said, looking genuinely offended. “what kind of guy do you think i am?”

“a nice guy?” you offered, unsure where this was going. “no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “a gentleman.”

oh god, the drama. you stifled a laugh. “well, excuse me, mister gentleman. i just didn’t want to assume you’d pay.”

“assume away,” he said, already heading toward the nearest fancy breakfast café like he hadn’t just kidnapped you and the cats. “i’ve got you covered.” you glanced down at mr. pickles, who gave you a look that screamed, hurry up, i want my eggs.

the café, of course, was fancy. fancier than anywhere you’d normally set foot in. as you walked in, clutching mr. pickles’ carrier like a lifeline, you whispered to geto, “you couldn’t pick a normal place?”

“normal?” he asked, arching a brow. “what, like mcdonald’s?”

“that would’ve been perfect, ” you muttered. he just chuckled. “relax. it’s on me. besides…” he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “i have a reputation to uphold. international law guys don’t slum it, you know?” you snorted. “you’re so full of it.”

“maybe,” he admitted, grinning. “but you’re here, aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you followed him to a table, where gojo cat immediately tried to climb onto the nearest chair, only for geto to gently push him back down. “don’t even think about it,” he told the cat, who meowed indignantly. mr. pickles, meanwhile, sat primly in her carrier, surveying the café with a look of mild disdain. she was probably judging the lack of gold-plated bowls. “so,” geto said once you were seated, his tone casual but his eyes warm. “what are you having? and don’t say something cheap to be polite.”

“how’d you know i was going to say that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. he shrugged. “just a hunch. order whatever you want.”

you hesitated, glancing at the menu. everything was overpriced, and you were 80% sure a single pancake here cost more than your rent. “fine,” you said finally. “but if i order the most expensive thing on the menu, i don’t want to hear you complain.”

“deal,” he said, smiling like you’d just agreed to marry him. god, he really was trying to woo you. and judging by the way your heart was doing somersaults, it might’ve been working.

the cafe was everything you imagined a “fancy breakfast spot” would be—muted beige tones, big windows letting in soft sunlight, overpriced art hanging on the walls, and tables filled with people who somehow looked like they owned hedge funds. there were plants too, the kind that didn’t seem real, and a faint jazz tune played in the background. if geto was trying to impress you, he was definitely succeeding, albeit unintentionally making you feel a little out of place. but all of that took a backseat the moment you heard that voice.

“you’re joking,” you muttered under your breath as you caught sight of none other than ryomen sukuna, towering like a goddamn villain straight out of a noir film. the cigarette smell hit first, faint but unmistakable, lingering on his dark uniform. his face twisted into a scowl the second he spotted your table. “ugh, pets,” he grumbled, eyeing the carrier with disdain. “this is why this place is going downhill. who even lets cats in here?”

“good morning to you too, sukuna,” geto said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a calmness that only pissed sukuna off further. you, on the other hand, were seconds away from panic. this is choso’s brother? you’d seen him before, sure—usually smoking in the hallway and glaring like everyone had personally wronged him. but now? here? as your server? gojo cat immediately picked up on your distress—or maybe he just didn’t like sukuna’s face—because he started growling in geto’s lap. it was the tiniest, most pitiful growl, but sukuna’s eyes snapped to him, narrowing in challenge. “what’s that thing’s problem?” he asked, jerking a thumb at gojo cat. “his problem is you , ” geto said, smiling. “can’t say i blame him.” sukuna shot geto a flat look before turning his attention back to you. “what are you having?” he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.

you panicked, your eyes darting to the menu. “uh… ummm …i’ll have the, uh…” you started, struggling to pronounce the ridiculous name of the dish. “the croissant…something?”

“you mean the croissant aux truffes?” sukuna interrupted, rolling his eyes. “yeah, got it. anything else?” you shook your head furiously, feeling your face heat up. “and you?” sukuna turned to geto, clearly already over this interaction. “my usual,” geto said casually, resting his chin on his hand. sukuna raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a mean smirk. “your usual , huh? what’s that again?”

geto froze for half a second, his cool demeanor slipping ever so slightly. “you know what my usual is,” he said, his voice a little sharper. “do i?” sukuna asked, feigning innocence. “must’ve slipped my mind.”

“it’s soba,” geto hissed, his calmness now completely abandoned.

“oh, soba,” sukuna said, nodding slowly like he’d just solved the mystery of the century. “got it. soba. anything else, your highness?” geto glared at him but didn’t say anything, and sukuna walked off, muttering something under his breath about “stupid regulars.” the moment he was out of earshot, geto leaned back in his chair and let out a dramatic sigh. “i’m never coming back here.”

“really?” you asked, raising a brow. “because it sounded like you practically live here.”

“not after this humiliation,” he said, though the way his lips twitched betrayed the fact that he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be. you couldn’t help but laugh, the earlier tension melting away. “for what it’s worth,” you said, “your ‘usual’ sounds pretty fancy too.”

“don’t,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “i’ll never live this down.”

from the corner of your eye, you saw gojo cat attempting to claw his way out of geto's lap, probably planning to finish what he started with sukuna. mr. pickles, ever the drama queen, merely yawned, completely unfazed by the chaos. it was going to be a long morning.

sukuna’s approach to serving was efficient, sure, but it was laced with the kind of attitude that made you question why this place hired him in the first place. he practically slammed geto’s soba on the table with a smile so forced it could rival a ventriloquist dummy, and your croissant—although perfect—arrived with a snide comment about “petting zoos” under his breath. you gave him a tight-lipped smile, muttering a quick “thank you,” while geto tried to hide his snicker behind his hand. sukuna walked off, grumbling something about “pretentious cat dads.”

“don’t mind him,” geto said, breaking his chopsticks with practiced ease. “he’s just like that with everyone. well, maybe worse with me.”

“so you’re special, then?” you teased, tearing off a piece of your croissant. “you could say that,” geto replied with a grin, feeding gojo cat a tiny bit of soba under the table. gojo, the shameless flirt, lapped it up happily, ignoring mr. pickles’ death glare from her carrier. things were calm, peaceful even—until the gaggle of women arrived.

they were the type you’d expect to see in glossy magazines: perfectly coiffed hair, subtle but expensive-looking makeup, and outfits that screamed “we brunch in designer clothes.” they made a beeline for gojo cat, cooing and fawning like he was some sort of feline casanova. and, like the attention-seeking traitor he was, gojo lapped it all up, practically preening under their praise. “oh my god, look at him!” one of them squealed, petting gojo as he leaned into her touch. “he’s so cute!”

“what’s his name?” another asked, giving geto a smile that could only be described as predatory. “gojo,” geto said, chuckling awkwardly. “you named him after yourself?” one of the women teased, clearly mistaking him for the egomaniac in question.

“uh, no, actually—”

“oh, sugurruuu!” another one interrupted, clearly recognizing him. “it’s been ages! how have you been?” you raised an eyebrow as the women began circling him like sharks. apparently, they were his seniors from a past internship, which made sense because they had that polished, professional air about them. “we missed you at the office!” one of them gushed. “you were so good at handling those client presentations,” another added, her tone a little too sweet for your liking.

you took a bite of your croissant, trying to ignore the sudden twist in your stomach. it wasn’t like you had any claim over geto, right? and yet, seeing him chuckle nervously and entertain them, even though it was clear he was uncomfortable, made you bristle. beside you, mr. pickles was practically vibrating with irritation, her tail flicking furiously as she watched gojo soak up the attention. she let out a low, guttural growl that you could’ve sworn mirrored your exact mood. “he’s such a ladies’ man,” one of the women purred, gesturing to gojo. “just like his owner, huh?”

“actually,” geto said, his voice cutting through the chatter. he looked at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “this is my partner.”

wait, what?

the table went silent for a moment as all eyes turned to you. the women’s faces fell ever so slightly, their previously cheery expressions dimming as they processed the information. “partner?” one of them repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “yep,” geto said, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied smile. “we’re co-parenting these two,” he added, gesturing to the cats. you blinked, your mind racing. co-parenting? he wasn’t wrong, technically speaking, but the way he said it made it sound...a lot more serious than it actually was. the women muttered half-hearted congratulations before awkwardly excusing themselves, their heels clicking against the tiled floor as they walked away. once they were out of earshot, you turned to geto, your cheeks burning. “partner, huh?”

“what? it’s true,” he said, a hint of smugness in his tone. “we’re co-parenting.”

“you do know how that sounded, right?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.“sounded perfect to me,” he said, giving you a lopsided grin. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. maybe, just maybe, you liked geto a little more than you thought. meanwhile, gojo cat continued basking in his stolen glory, and mr. pickles finally settled down in her carrier, clearly satisfied with how the situation had turned out.

chapter 4: he brought kibble, you brought your heart

the days following your chaotic breakfast outing became a mix of heartwarming absurdity and mild chaos, all thanks to geto and his ever-determined cat.

it started with the pet supplies. one offhand comment about needing more for mr. pickles, and suddenly geto was at your door with an entire armful of toys, treats, and nesting materials. “you said you needed stuff,” he shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he handed you a bag that looked heavy enough to contain bricks. “this is…a lot,” you said, peering inside. “did you buy out the entire pet store?”

“nah, just the essentials,” he replied, brushing off your comment. “besides, i had to get stuff for gojo anyway.”

the “stuff for gojo” turned out to be a single can of tuna.

then came the vet visits. geto had decided, entirely unprompted, that your vet appointments were now his responsibility. he would show up unannounced, a coffee in hand for you and a carrier for gojo in the other. “i don’t think the vet needs to see gojo,” you’d said the first time he came along. “you never know,” he’d replied, entirely serious. “what if he has sympathy symptoms for mr. pickles? he’s been sneezing a lot lately.”

“that’s because he shoved his face into a pile of dust bunnies,” you deadpanned. still, you couldn’t deny how much easier it was having him around, even if it meant enduring his occasional attempts to one-up the vet with random facts he’d googled beforehand. “you know, some studies say cats feel pain differently during pregnancy,” geto commented as the vet checked mr. pickles over. the vet gave him a flat look. “that’s…not entirely accurate.”

“huh, weird,” geto said, leaning back with an entirely too smug grin. “i’ll look into it more. it’s good to stay informed, right?”

meanwhile, gojo cat’s relentless courtship of mr. pickles had reached new, unhinged heights. every day brought a new “gift” for her nesting area, ranging from sweet (a soft sock) to outright concerning (a half-dead lizard that had you shrieking and yuuji wielding a plastic lightsaber like some kind of jedi exterminator). “gojo, no!” you’d yelled, trying to wrestle the lizard out of his mouth. “don’t hurt him!” geto shouted, entirely missing the point as he held gojo back. “don’t hurt him?!” yuuji echoed, brandishing the lightsaber dramatically. “what about me? what if it jumps at me?!”

amidst the chaos, mr. pickles remained the picture of serenity, carefully arranging each of gojo’s offerings in her nesting area like some kind of bizarre art installation. she even started tolerating his presence, which was a minor miracle in itself. “look at them,” geto said one day, gesturing to the two cats as they napped side by side. “they’re like us.” you raised an eyebrow. “one of them brings in literal trash and the other barely tolerates them. which one’s supposed to be me?”

“well, obviously, you’re mr. pickles,” he said with a grin.

“and you’re gojo?”

“exactly.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “geto, you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly.

despite the chaos, you couldn’t deny that your little makeshift family—complete with a sock-stealing, lizard-catching cat and his annoyingly thoughtful owner—had started to grow on you. mr. pickles seemed calmer, you felt more relaxed, and even geto’s awkward attempts at affection were kind of endearing. maybe, just maybe, these two weren’t so bad after all.

but honestly, you should’ve known geto would take a casual dinner and make it look like an event. the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, you realized just how badly you underestimated the man’s ability to weaponize his looks. he’d ditched the usual button-ups for a fitted black turtleneck that clung to him like a second skin, paired with tailored gray slacks that looked more expensive than your monthly rent. his hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, but a few stray strands framed his face just enough to be annoyingly perfect. and then there was the smell—some cologne that was equal parts warm and spicy, making your knees wobble like a newborn deer.

“you…uh, look nice,” you managed to stutter, awkwardly gesturing him in. he chuckled, stepping inside. “thanks. figured i should dress up a little since you’re going all out with dinner.” oh, so now it’s your fault for making dinner sound like a five-star experience when it was really just some pasta and garlic bread. meanwhile, your own reflection in the hallway mirror mocked you mercilessly. you were still in your semi-formal college attire: a blazer that was slightly too big, a wrinkled blouse, and pants that had seen better days. you could have changed, but no, you thought you’d save time and effort. bad call.

dinner itself went surprisingly smoothly. mr. pickles and gojo cat managed to coexist at the food station, which was nothing short of miraculous. out of the corner of your eye, you saw gojo nudging a small portion of his food toward mr. pickles, who sniffed it delicately before accepting. “look at them,” geto said with a soft smile, catching your gaze. “sharing like that. think it’s love?” you scoffed, trying to ignore how his smile made your heart race. “or maybe gojo’s just trying to butter her up so she doesn’t swat him later.”

“harsh,” geto replied, leaning back in his chair. “you’re cynical. i like it.”

after dinner, you were about to tackle the dishes when geto, ever the overachieving law student, pulled out his macbook. the glow of the screen illuminated his face as he typed furiously, answering emails and looking like the poster boy for "i have my life together."

“work?” you asked, carrying a stack of plates to the sink. “just a few emails,” he said, not looking up. “one of the partners at my internship sent over some last-minute questions.” you blinked, watching him with mild disbelief. “it’s a friday night.”

“welcome to international law,” he said dryly, fingers flying across the keyboard. against your better judgment, you found yourself… impressed? his focus, his confidence, the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show off his forearms—it was annoyingly attractive. “ugh, law students,” you muttered under your breath, scrubbing at a plate. “what was that?” suguru asked, looking up with a smirk. “nothing,” you said quickly, turning back to the sink. “just saying how dedicated you are.” he laughed, the sound low and warm. “you’re bad at lying, you know.”

“and you’re bad at taking a break,” you shot back, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

after a few more minutes of typing, geto finally closed his laptop and joined you in the kitchen. “here, let me help,” he offered, rolling up his sleeves further. “you cooked,” he said, taking a plate from your hands. “least i can do is clean up.” you wanted to argue, but the sight of geto, sleeves rolled up, standing beside you at the sink, made your brain short-circuit. “fine,” you mumbled, handing him a dish. “but if you drop one, i’m not forgiving you.”

“noted,” he said with a grin, elbow brushing yours as he worked. as you both washed dishes in companionable silence, you couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, heart doing a stupid little flutter each time he caught you looking. maybe this dinner wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

geto had never been one to overthink simple things. he prided himself on his ability to stay cool and collected, whether it was during an exam, an internship interview, or wrangling gojo cat after he’d somehow escaped onto a neighbor’s balcony. but here, standing next to you, washing dishes, his heart was doing its best impression of a jazz drummer—completely out of rhythm and far too loud. he tried to focus on the task at hand, scrubbing a plate with the precision of a surgeon, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting over the sheer domesticity of the moment. you, standing next to him, a faint smile on your lips as you passed him a dish. mr. pickles and gojo cat sitting like a mismatched elderly couple in the corner, their rivalry seemingly paused for the evening. this was too much. domesticity was his weakness, and you were unknowingly his kryptonite.

"you know," he started, trying to sound casual, "i’ve been working on my forearms lately. gotta make sure gojo has a sturdy perch when i carry him." your laugh was soft but genuine, and it hit him right in the chest. "oh yeah? is that why you’ve been flexing every chance you get? because i was starting to think you were just trying to flirt." he froze, plate in hand, before turning to look at you with a mock-offended expression. "flirt? me? that’s slander. i’m just a humble man with well-defined forearms doing his civic duty.”

"right," you drawled, rolling your eyes as you handed him another dish. okay, suguru, he thought. focus. this is the perfect moment. ask the question. it’s not that big of a deal. except it was a big deal. because it wasn’t just about asking if you’d like to carpool to college every day. it was about getting more time with you, sharing little moments like this. he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "hey, uh…you know how i drive to college every day?" you glanced at him, a little confused. "yeah?"

"and you, uh, also go to college every day?"

"correct," you said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

he could feel his palms starting to sweat despite the soapy water. this was ridiculous. why was he nervous? it was just a question! but somehow, the thought of you saying no made his stomach twist. "so," he continued, trying to keep his tone light, "i was thinking…maybe we could drive together? you know, save on gas, reduce our carbon footprint, that kind of thing." you blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. "you want to carpool with me?"

"yeah," he said quickly, nodding. "i mean, it makes sense, right? we’re both going the same way, and i wouldn’t mind the company. plus, i’ve got this playlist i’ve been dying to share." that wasn’t entirely true. his playlist was a chaotic mix of instrumental lo-fi, 90’s rock and songs gojo cat seemed to enjoy, but he’d happily curate something just for you if it meant hearing you laugh and sing along.

"you’re serious?" you asked, and he swore he could see a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "dead serious," he said, putting on his best poker face. "it’s a purely logistical decision, of course. nothing to do with the fact that i think you’re great company or anything." you stared at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh, and he felt his shoulders relax just a little. "okay," you said finally. "sure, let’s carpool." he grinned, feeling an almost embarrassing amount of relief. "awesome. you won’t regret it, i promise." as you turned back to the sink, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you, his heart still doing its offbeat jazz solo. yeah, this was going to be good. better than good, even.

the last dish was set on the drying rack, and with it came the awkward silence that always followed. you and geto exchanged a glance, both of you clearly trying to decide what came next. do you send him off with a polite "thanks for the help," or do you suggest something casual? ugh, why was this so hard?

"soooo," you started, awkwardly fidgeting with a dishtowel. "uh, do you…want ice cream?" geto blinked at you, his expression pleasantly surprised. "ice cream?"

"yeah, you know, frozen dairy, sugar, flavors," you said, waving your hands vaguely like you were describing some rare delicacy. "do international law students even like convenience store ice cream? or are you more into, like, artisanal stuff churned by monks in the alps?" his laugh was low and warm, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you’d just won something. "as tempting as alps-monks-churned ice cream sounds, i’m fine with rocky road if you’ve got it."

rocky road. he’s perfect, you thought as you rummaged in the freezer, pulling out a pint. mr. pickles, ever the queen, trotted over and sat primly by your feet, tail twitching as if she expected you to serve her a scoop. gojo cat, on the other hand, had found a stray spoon to bat around the kitchen floor like it was his life’s mission. you handed geto a bowl, and he graciously accepted before pulling out his macbook and setting it on the table. "mind if i put something on?"

"as long as it’s not UN debates or a soba recipe tutorial," you teased, leaning over to peer at his screen. to your credit, you weren’t snooping—you were just curious about what kind of stuff an international law student kept on their homepage. but the minute you saw it, you froze. nestled among his neatly arranged bookmarks for email, law journals, and a soba takeout joint, was your spotify profile. your brain went into immediate overdrive. oh dear god. oh no. oh yes. wait, what?

you fought the urge to gasp, to point, to scream into the void. instead, you settled for the most nonchalant reaction you could muster. "huh. your bookmarks are so…organized." but your awkward tone gave you away, and geto, sharp as ever, followed your gaze. when his eyes landed on the offending bookmark, he paused mid-scoop, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "oh," he said, clearly trying to play it cool. "uh, yeah. that’s—uh, for convenience. you know, for when you share playlists and stuff."

"totally," you replied, nodding far too enthusiastically. "makes sense. who doesn’t bookmark their friends’ spotify profiles?" you were lying through your teeth, and you both knew it. but instead of feeling weirded out, your heart felt like it might actually burst. he bookmarked your spotify. this ridiculously attractive, smart, and funny guy has done something so nerdy and cute, and you think you might die. the silence stretched awkwardly until you couldn’t take it anymore. "so…what’s your favorite playlist of mine?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual but failing miserably.

geto, to his credit, recovered quickly. "probably the one you called ‘in the clerb, we all cryin’.’ it’s got a lot of questionable choices."

"questionable choices?" you gasped, feigning offense. "excuse me, those are carefully curated emotional masterpieces!"

"right, right," he said, nodding solemnly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. "masterpieces like, what was it? ‘torn’ by natalie imbruglia followed by party rock anthem?"

"that’s called range, geto."

he laughed again, and you swore it was the best sound you’d ever heard. meanwhile, gojo cat had successfully cornered the spoon under the fridge, and mr. pickles let out an indignant meow, clearly unimpressed by the lack of attention directed her way. "anyways," you said, clearing your throat and desperately trying to steer the conversation away from how much your soul had ascended, "what are we watching?" he smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "how about a soba recipe tutorial? you know, for research purposes."

"get out of my house," you deadpanned, throwing a napkin at him. but deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling. maybe you did like geto. just a little. or a lot. who’s counting?

the youtube video played on, gordon ramsey passionately dissecting the finer points of why "tiramisu supremacy" should be the law of the land, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. instead, you were hyper-aware of the ridiculously attractive man next to you, lounging on your bed, casually eating rocky road like he wasn’t a complete menace to your sanity. gojo cat had stationed himself at your feet, swiping lazily at a loose thread on your blanket. mr. pickles, in a rare display of domestic harmony, perched regally on a pillow next to geto like she was claiming him as her territory. you could almost hear her smug little cat thoughts: this one? yes, acceptable.

meanwhile, you? you were losing it. somehow—through some strange twist of fate or cosmic joke—your head had ended up resting on geto’s chest. his chest. his sculpted, unfairly perfect chest. you told yourself it was for comfort, or convenience, or whatever excuse your brain could scramble together. oh god, is this okay? what if he thinks i’m weird? or worse, what if he doesn’t care at all?

his arm was just kind of… hovering there, like it didn’t know what to do. his bicep flexed every time he adjusted, and you swore it was on purpose. it’s not on purpose, idiot. calm down. "you good there?" his voice cut through your internal spiral, warm and teasing. you cleared your throat, suddenly self-conscious. "uh, yeah. totally fine. just... comfortable, i guess."

"comfortable, huh?" he echoed, his tone light but his heart doing cartwheels. she’s comfortable. okay. don’t freak out. play it cool. meanwhile, geto was absolutely not playing it cool. this is fine. this is normal. people hang out like this all the time. friends. buddies. totally platonic. on a bed. watching gordon ramsey. with her head on my chest. oh god, i’m dying. his arm was still hovering awkwardly, and it was starting to cramp. should he just—? no. too much. but maybe? before he could overthink it further, you shifted slightly, glancing up at him.

"you can, you know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. he blinked down at you, dumbfounded. "can what?"

"put your arm around me," you mumbled, cheeks heating up like a furnace. geto’s brain short-circuited. oh god, she said i can. she actually said i can. is this real? am i dreaming? where’s gojo? he needs to see this. wait, no, absolutely not. this is private. oh god, my arm.

"uh, yeah. sure," he finally said, his voice cracking just a little as he tried to sound casual. his arm settled around your shoulders, warm and solid, and you let out a content sigh. meanwhile, internally, he was screaming. this is the best day of his life.

"you’re stiff as hell," you teased, glancing up at him. "sorry, it’s just—i’m not used to—" he fumbled, trailing off. "chill out," you said with a soft laugh, your hand lightly resting on his chest. "it’s just me."

just you. the girl he’d been pining after for weeks. the girl whose spotify profile he’d bookmarked. the girl whose cats he’d willingly co-parented like an idiot in love. he wasn’t even sure how he was still breathing. "yeah," he said softly, his lips quirking into a small smile. "just you."

"hey, are you even watching?" you asked, gesturing at the screen where ramsey was now passionately defending the honor of cannoli. "uh, yeah. totally," he lied, having absolutely no idea what was happening in the video. "oh yeah? then what’s his stance on panna cotta?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. geto paused for a second, then grinned sheepishly. "panna whatta?" you groaned, laughing despite yourself. "you’re hopeless."

"hopelessly charmed," he muttered under his breath, but thankfully, the loud volume drowned it out. gojo cat let out an exaggerated yawn, curling up at the foot of the bed, while mr. pickles blinked at both of you with what could only be described as approval. and for a brief moment, with you curled up against him, geto thought that maybe, just maybe, domesticity wasn’t so bad after all.

the clock on your bedside table glowed 9:30 pm, the red numbers a cruel reminder that sunday was slipping away. geto shifted slightly, the arm around your shoulders reluctantly moving as if to signal his departure. right. college tomorrow. responsibilities. but neither of you moved. instead, his attempt to lift his arm ended in a poorly executed maneuver that pulled you closer—much closer. suddenly, your face was inches from his, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. his breath hitched. oh god. oh no. oh yes. what if he does something stupid? like kiss you? no, bad idea. abort. retreat. pull away. you’ll think he’s weird—

you kissed him first. his brain went blank.

your lips pressed softly against his, a tentative, curious movement that sent every coherent thought in his mind scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. your lip balm—something fruity, maybe peach?—lingered on his lips, blending with the faint taste of rocky road ice cream. his heart stopped, then kickstarted with a force that left him lightheaded. "oh," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely audible. "oh?" you pulled back slightly, a teasing smile quirking your lips. "i — i mean —" he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. "uh, wow."

"wow?" you laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. "shut up," he groaned, but his grin betrayed him as his hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you as you moved to straddle his lap. oh god. oh god. she’s on my lap. this is not a drill. repeat, this is not a drill. "you’re awfully red, suguru," you teased, your tone light, but the way your fingers brushed against his jaw made his pulse race. "yeah, well, you’re—" he cut himself off, his eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze. "you’re unfairly pretty, okay? and i’m trying not to pass out here."

"pretty?" you echoed, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, your noses brushing. "is that all?" he chuckled, low and breathy. "pretty, gorgeous, unfairly cute. take your pick." before he could spiral into another wave of self-doubt, you kissed him again, and this time, he responded in full. his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second. his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers flexing like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. in the background, gordon ramsey’s voice bellowed something about undercooked risotto, but neither of you noticed. this is what dreams are made of, right? he thought. her lips, her taste, the way she’s holding onto me like i’m her favorite person in the world. rocky road and lip balm and… gordon ramsey? okay, ignore that. focus. focus on her.

"you good there, suguru?" you murmured against his lips, your voice laced with amusement. "good?" he echoed, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. "i’m amazing. incredible. best night of my life, no contest."

"you’re such a dork," you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "yeah, well," he said, his smile softening as his thumb brushed along your cheek. "you like this dork."

"i do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart soared. he tightened his hold on you, his lips ghosting over yours once more as he whispered, "good. because i don’t think i’m letting you go anytime soon." the clock ticked on, but neither of you cared anymore. responsibilities could wait.

just as geto’s lips brushed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, a loud, synchronized cacophony of meows erupted from the corner of the bed. you both froze.

there sat gojo cat and mr. pickles, staring at the two of you with matching expressions of feline judgment. mr. pickles, her fur slightly puffed and her eyes narrowed, let out an indignant mrrrow that sounded suspiciously like "get a room." gojo cat, ever the instigator, joined in with an exaggerated meeeooowwww, his tail flicking dramatically as if to say, "seriously? right in front of us?"

“oh my god,” you mumbled, burying your face in geto’s neck as he chuckled, the sound rumbling against you. “i think we’ve offended the fur babies,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh too loudly as gojo cat began pacing in circles, yowling like a siren. “offended? they sound like they’re trying to declare war,” you muttered, pulling back reluctantly. “maybe they’re just jealous,” geto teased, his dark eyes twinkling as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “jealous of what?” you scoffed, glancing at the cats. mr. pickles was still bristling like a wronged queen, while gojo cat was now attempting to paw at the edge of the bed for dramatic emphasis.

“of this.” geto smirked, leaning in like he was about to steal another kiss, but mr. pickles let out a sharp hiss, cutting him off. “okay, okay, time out!” you said, waving your hands in surrender. with a sigh, geto released you, though his hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer. “guess that’s our cue.” you followed him to the door, the cats trailing behind like disapproving chaperones. gojo cat let out one last, drawn-out meow as if to say "good riddance," while mr. pickles sat primly by the door, glaring up at geto with all the disdain she could muster. “she’s really protective of you, huh?” geto said, slipping his shoes on. “always has been,” you replied, your hand resting on the doorknob. “probably doesn’t help that you keep bribing her with treats.”

“bribing?” he repeated, feigning offense. “that’s called building trust.”

“sure it is, mr. international law,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “speaking of trust, uh… i’ll pick you up tomorrow? for class?” you raised an eyebrow, smirking. “trying to make this a habit now?”

“well,” he said, his cheeks pinking slightly, “i figured i’d bring you another one of those fancy croissants. and, you know, maybe see you smile first thing in the morning again.” your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through you. “smooth, geto.”

“is that a yes?” he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze locked on yours. “yeah,” you said, your lips curving into a smile. before he could step out, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a quick but lingering kiss that made your heart race. when he pulled back, his smile was uncharacteristically shy.

“goodnight,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“goodnight,” you replied, watching as he walked away, his hands stuffed into his pockets but his stride noticeably lighter.

as you closed the door, you turned to find mr. pickles sitting side by side, staring up at you with unreadable expressions. “don’t look at me like that,” you said, pointing at her. “you’re the ones who ruined the moment.” mr. pickles let out a chirpy meep , as if to say "i’m just doing my job," before padding back to her nesting area with an air of smug satisfaction. you shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. whatever this thing with suguru was, you didn’t want it to end. not now, not ever.

chapter 5: justin bieber and other forms of groveling

you swung the door open, expecting to find a text from geto telling you to come downstairs like a normal person. instead, you were met with him. suguru geto, standing at your doorstep, looking like he’d just stepped out of a gq photoshoot. “morning!” he greeted cheerfully, his voice as smooth as his suit. yes, a suit. a dark, perfectly tailored one that hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist just right, paired with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, exposing just a hint of his collarbone. the whole look was topped off with a skinny black tie and shiny leather oxfords that somehow made you question if you were even allowed to walk next to him. and don’t even get started on his hair—pulled back into a low bun, with a few loose strands framing his stupidly perfect face. “why—why are you here?” you stammered, gripping the doorframe for support because, honestly, this man might be a health hazard. “thought i’d save you the trip downstairs,” he said casually, though his lips curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing. “besides, i wanted to see you earlier.” great. now your heart was doing this weird fluttery thing, and you hated it. “you know you could’ve just texted me, right? like a normal person?”

“where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice tinged with amusement.

ugh.

the first thing that hit you when you slid into his car—a sleek black bmw z4 convertible with the top down—was the overwhelming scent of car cleaner mixed with him. “did you—did you just get this cleaned?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the smell. “maybe,” he replied, a little too quickly. you glanced at the dashboard, which was spotless and gleaming. the leather seats looked freshly polished, and there wasn’t a single crumb or speck of dust in sight. well, except for the faint trace of orange fur on the passenger seat. “you missed a spot,” you teased, pointing at the fur. “gojo,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “aw, don’t be mad at him,” you said, grinning. “he’s just marking his territory.”

“yeah, well, he’s not paying for this car, is he?” suguru shot back, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. the car smelled like money, honestly. the leather had that rich, almost intimidating scent, and the steering wheel looked like it had been handcrafted by someone with a phd in luxury interiors. but somehow, there was this comforting undertone of suguru’s cologne—spicy, woodsy, and ridiculously distracting. you tried to act normal, like you weren’t suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were to him in this car that felt way too intimate for a ride to campus. “so, what’s the occasion?” you asked, nodding toward his suit as he pulled out onto the main road. “internship meeting after class,” he explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “wanted to make a good impression.”

“yeah, well, mission accomplished,” you mumbled, more to yourself than him, but he still heard. “what was that?” he asked, glancing at you with a playful smirk. “nothing,” you said quickly, your cheeks heating. as he drove, you found yourself sneaking glances at his hands on the wheel. his sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, which looked unfairly muscular for a guy who claimed to “barely have time for the gym.” the veins running up his arms were just… there, taunting you.

“you’ve been working out, huh?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. he chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your stomach flip. “noticed, huh?”

“kind of hard not to when your biceps are trying to break out of that shirt,” you retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. “oh, this?” he said, flexing his forearm slightly as he adjusted the gearshift, clearly showing off. “ugh, stop,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “you’re so annoying.”

“and yet here you are,” he teased, shooting you a quick grin before turning his attention back to the road. as you sat there, half-annoyed and half-smitten, you couldn’t help but think that this man was going to be the death of you.

the two of you sat in the car outside your campus building for a moment longer than necessary. the engine was off, but the atmosphere buzzed with something heavy, something neither of you dared to name yet. geto had one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, but you weren’t fooled. his jaw was tense, and his thumb tapped nervously against the leather, a small tell that you’d come to recognize. he didn’t want this ride to end. neither did you, if you were being honest. “so,” you started, your voice almost shy. “thanks for the ride.” he glanced over at you, his dark eyes soft but smoldering all at once. “yeah,” he said, his voice low, “anytime.” and just when you thought he’d let you leave, he moved.

his hand—large, warm, and calloused just enough to send a thrill through you—slipped behind your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent goosebumps racing down your arms. the touch was firm but gentle, commanding but tender.

“come here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t even have time to process before he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. this wasn’t just a goodbye kiss; no, this was something deeper, something that spoke of longing and frustration and a thousand unsaid things. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, like he didn’t care that the windows weren’t tinted enough for the scene unfolding inside. his tongue swept against your lower lip, asking, no, demanding entrance, and you couldn’t deny him. the taste of him—coffee from earlier, a hint of mint, and something uniquely suguru—was enough to make your head spin. your hand instinctively came up to his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. but instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, and you thought you might actually lose all sense of reality.

when he finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. no, he lingered, his lips brushing against yours one last time, as if reluctant to let go. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and when you looked up at him, you saw the faint sheen of your lip gloss smeared on his mouth. his lips—pink, swollen, and thoroughly kissed—were enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“you’ve got—” you gestured vaguely to his mouth, your voice shaky. he raised an eyebrow, smirking in that infuriatingly confident way. “lip gloss?” he guessed, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip like he was testing the feel of it. “yeah,” you mumbled, feeling your own cheeks heat up. “good,” he said simply, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i’ll keep it.” you wanted to scream, cry, and maybe kiss him again all at once. instead, you just sat there, dazed, as he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“guess i should let you go now,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea. “yeah,” you managed to say, though your legs felt like jelly just thinking about walking into that building. as you stepped out of the car, the smell of car cleaner and his cologne still lingering around you, you could feel the weight of people’s stares. it wasn’t like fancy cars were a rare sight, but you stepping out of that car, looking thoroughly flustered and kissed? yeah, that was something. you glanced back at him one last time before closing the door. he gave you a small wave, the smirk still firmly in place. “i’ll pick you up later,” he called out, and you swore you heard the faintest hint of smugness in his voice. “yeah, okay,” you replied, trying to sound normal even though your entire body felt like it was on fire. as you walked toward the building, your mind raced with one singular thought: suguru geto was going to be the end of you. and honestly? you were okay with that.

as geto shifted gears and eased into a parking spot, he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. "oh, suguru, what a smooth operator you are," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his already-perfect hair. but as his fingers grazed his lips, he froze. oh no.

your lip gloss—that faint pink menace—was still there. he squinted into the rearview mirror, tilting his face left and right like he was analyzing evidence at a crime scene. yup, definitely there. and definitely noticeable.

“cool. love that for me,” he said under his breath, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. he dabbed at his lips gently, trying to erase the sheen. but no matter how much he rubbed, it refused to disappear completely. a faint tint lingered, stubborn and utterly humiliating. not that he minded, of course. secretly, he was fighting the urge to giggle like a high schooler who just got his crush’s number. she kissed me, he thought, his inner monologue doing cartwheels. and now her lip gloss is on me. does this count as shared property? do i need to buy her a ring now? he glanced at the building where you’d disappeared moments ago. a soft smile tugged at his lips, but then he caught his own reflection again, and the smile turned into a scowl.

“focus, suguru. you’re an international law student, not a lovesick teen,” he muttered, trying to psych himself up. but then, completely unbidden, the lyrics hit him: shawty’s like a melody in my head that i can’t keep out—

“oh my god, no,” he groaned, dropping his forehead against the steering wheel. “pull it together.” he sat up straight, fixing his tie like he was about to walk into court, not class. still, his thoughts wandered back to the kiss. he could still feel the warmth of your lips on his, the way you tasted faintly of coffee and lip gloss. “yeah, okay, maybe i’m a little lovesick,” he admitted to no one, sighing dramatically. a loud honk snapped him out of his reverie, and he jerked upright, eyes darting around. some guy in a beat-up sedan gave him a look as if to say, get moving, pretty boy.

“right, right, focus,” geto muttered, putting the car into park. but the distraction had already done its damage. in his daydream, he’d nearly considered driving through the building instead of parking near it. and not for the first time. last semester, there’d been that unfortunate incident where he’d been too engrossed in memorizing legal jargon to realize he was barreling toward the curb. it wasn’t his finest moment, but hey, everyone made mistakes. this time, though, it wasn’t legal jargon messing with his head. it was you.

after ensuring his car was perfectly parked (and double-checking for rogue curbs), he checked his reflection one last time. hair? immaculate. tie? sharp. lips? …still faintly pink. he sighed, leaning back in his seat. "well, if anyone asks, it’s my new look," he muttered, smirking to himself. but deep down, he wasn’t bothered. in fact, the idea of walking into his building, pink lip gloss and all, knowing it was from you? yeah, he could live with that.

you glance at your phone for what feels like the millionth time, the lock screen mocking you with its time: 6:45 p.m. every minute that ticks by feels like an eternity. where the hell was geto? the man who swore on rocky road ice cream and cats that he’d pick you up after class. “ugh, liar,” you grumble under your breath, clutching your phone tighter. you dial his number again, half-hoping, half-dreading, that he’d pick up. the line rings once, twice, and then straight to voicemail. “figures.”

the campus courtyard is thinning out now, with most students heading home or to their dorms. you, however, are still standing at the edge of the parking lot, looking like the poster child for loser-core chic. a group of girls you vaguely recognize from your department walk by, their giggles low and conspiratorial as they glance in your direction. one of them nudges her friend and whispers loudly, “see? i told you. you can’t trust law guys. they’re always playing games.” you stiffen, feeling your cheeks heat. okay, rude. but also…they might have a point?

“poor girl,” another one says, her voice dripping with pity. “she probably thought she was special.” your jaw tightens as you resist the urge to shout back, no, actually, he’s probably just late! maybe traffic, or… or… you groan inwardly. even you don’t buy your excuses anymore. just as you’re debating whether to crawl under a bush and live there forever, your deskmate, nanami kento, approaches. ever the epitome of politeness, he clears his throat softly before speaking. “hey,” he begins, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. “are you, uh, waiting for someone?”

you force a smile, trying to appear less like a rejected rom-com protagonist. “yeah, uh… my ride’s just running a little late.” nanami’s brow furrows slightly, and he glances at his watch. “it’s been over thirty minutes.”

ouch. okay, way to rub salt in the wound, kento.

he sighs, looking almost…sympathetic? “i could drop you off if you’d like. it’s on my way.”

normally, any sane, self-respecting woman would jump at the chance to be chauffeured home by nanami kento—a man so punctual and reliable, he’s basically a walking swiss watch. but alas, you are neither self-respecting nor particularly sane at this moment. “thanks, nanami, but i’m good,” you say, waving him off with a grin that’s probably more pained than reassuring. he nods slowly, clearly unconvinced but too polite to argue. “alright. take care, then.” as he walks away, you let out a long sigh, your earlier bravado crumbling. “ugh, geto, you’re so dead,” you mutter under your breath, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. by now, the campus is nearly deserted, and the idea of taking the bus home looms over you like a dark cloud. with a resigned sigh, you check the bus schedule on your phone. the next one isn’t due for another 15 minutes. just perfect.

the bus ride home is as glamorous as you’d expect—fluorescent lights that make everyone look vaguely ill, the faint smell of stale chips and rubber, and the occasional bump that sends you jerking forward. you plop into an empty seat, your bag clutched tightly on your lap. a group of teenagers in the back snicker about something, and the guy across from you is humming off-key to whatever’s blasting through his headphones. yeah, this is way better than being driven home in a bmw z4, you think bitterly, rolling your eyes.

the faint scent of orange fur clings to your bag, and you wonder if it’s from gojo cat sneaking into geto’s car this morning. the thought makes you irrationally mad all over again. i bet the car is fine. he probably just forgot or something stupid like that. you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. the rhythmic hum of the bus is oddly calming, but your thoughts are anything but. what if he’s hurt? a small, worried voice pipes up in the back of your mind. but you squash it quickly. no, he’s just being an idiot.

geto is convinced this is how he dies—not by some massive legal scandal or a tragic car accident, but by sheer embarrassment. the moment the clock hit 6:00 p.m., he knew he was doomed. when the hands of time ticked past 6:45, panic set in. it’s fine, he had told himself, gripping his steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. she probably hasn’t even noticed yet. but she had noticed. oh god, had she noticed. every missed call and unread text was like a dagger to his heart. he could practically feel your disappointment vibrating through his phone. the sheer audacity of his internship, requiring him to sit through endless discussions about treaties and bylaws while you were out there—waiting for him like some rom-com protagonist.

and what does he find when he finally arrives at campus? absolutely nothing. a deserted lot, the soft hum of crickets, and not a single trace of you. he rubs a hand over his face, groaning as he slams his car door shut. great, suguru. really great. not only do you make law students look unreliable, but you’ve also officially cemented yourself as a clown in front of the only person who matters.

so, he does the only thing a desperate man can do: breaks every traffic law ever invented, zipping through yellow lights and cutting corners like it’s his goddamn personal mission to get to the apartment before you disappear entirely. “please don’t hate me,” he mutters under his breath as his bmw roars down the street. “i’ll get on my knees if i have to. maybe not in public, but like…if it comes to that.”

meanwhile, you’re trudging through the dimly lit hallway of your apartment complex, the bus ride home having sucked every last ounce of life out of you. your feet ache, your bag feels heavier than ever, and your faith in men has plummeted to new depths. he didn’t even call back. the audacity, you think bitterly, fumbling for your keys. wasn’t i just defending international law men this morning? god, i’m so stupid.

you’re too busy cursing geto to notice the looming figure leaning casually against the wall by the elevator—sukuna. he smells like croissants and cigarettes, an objectively weird combination that somehow works when it’s him. his uniform—a black button-down rolled up to the elbows and an apron slung lazily over one shoulder—is dusted with flour. “yo,” he greets, his voice low and gravelly as always. you freeze mid-step, praying you don’t look like a drowned rat after that miserable commute. “uh, hey.”

“late night?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in your obvious exhaustion. “something like that,” you mumble, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. sukuna’s sharp eyes flick to your bag. “bus, huh? thought you were too fancy for public transport these days. what happened to prince charming?” oh great. just what i needed, you think, rolling your eyes internally. “prince charming is currently on my list,” you snap, more to yourself than him. “yikes.” sukuna lets out a low chuckle, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “guess mr. perfect isn’t as perfect as you thought.”

“okay, first of all,” you shoot back, “i’m not having this conversation with you. second, why do you even care?” he shrugs, clearly unbothered. “i don’t. just funny to see you slumming it with the rest of us peasants.” before you can muster a witty retort, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway. you both turn just in time to see geto rushing in, his tie slightly askew and his expression one of pure panic.

“there you are,” he blurts, skidding to a stop in front of you. his eyes dart between you and sukuna, his brows furrowing slightly. “oh, now you show up,” you say, crossing your arms. “did you have fun ghosting me for two hours?”

“wait, i can explain—”

“can’t wait to hear this,” sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a glare from you.

geto runs a hand through his hair, his words spilling out in a rush. “i got stuck at my internship, and they don’t let us use our phones— stupid rule, i know—but i swear i tried to get to you as fast as i could. i even broke, like, five traffic laws. maybe six.” you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“no! i mean, yes! i mean…” he groans, clearly flustered. “look, i’m sorry. really. i’ll do anything to make it up to you. please don’t be mad.” sukuna snickers, leaning back against the wall. “wow. anything, huh? bold move, law boy.”

“can you not?” you snap at sukuna before turning back to geto. “fine. you can start by explaining why my calls didn’t matter enough for you to pick up.”

“they did matter!” geto insists, his voice rising slightly. “i swear, if i could’ve answered, i would’ve.” sukuna snorts, muttering, “sounds like excuses to me.”

“dude, seriously?” geto snaps, finally losing his patience. “guys, enough!” you cut in, throwing your hands up. “i’m too tired for this. suguru, if you’re really sorry, you can start by leaving me alone for the rest of the night.”

geto’s face falls, but he nods reluctantly. “okay. yeah. i’ll go.” as he turns to leave, sukuna shoots you a smug grin. “guess prince charming isn’t so charming after all.” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

you’re sprawled out on your couch in the most dramatic fashion imaginable, mr. pickles perched on your chest like some kind of feline overlord. her tail swishes back and forth, slapping your face occasionally as if she’s judging you for your life choices. can’t even secure a law student, her gaze seems to say. and honestly? fair. lanas haunting voice croons “the other woman” from your speaker, because of course your brain thought this was the perfect soundtrack to your misery. who is the other woman, his degree? you wonder, staring blankly at the ceiling while mr. pickles kneads your collarbone with zero regard for your comfort. maybe it’s the un charter. maybe she’s prettier than me. you groan, picking up your phone to scroll aimlessly, only to see it light up with a string of notifications. it’s geto.

geto: hey. geto: i’m so sorry, seriously. geto: please don’t hate me. geto: gojo cat is crying.

and there it is, a picture of gojo cat edited with comically large tears streaming down his face. you snort despite yourself.

geto: i can explain. geto: the internship is evil. geto: satan himself probably drafted those treaties. geto: and i had to read them all. geto: sorry :((((

you roll your eyes but feel your lips twitch. the messages keep coming.

geto: look, i even made a playlist called “my apologies” to make it up to you. geto: song 1: sorry by justin bieber. geto: song 2: call me maybe by carly rae jespen. geto: song 3: i’m a fool by cee lo green.

you’re this close to laughing when another message pops up.

geto: please forgive me, i’ll do anything. geto: i’ll even let mr. pickles sit in the bmw.

now you’re grinning. typing back, you send:

you: door’s unlocked.

the next sound you hear is heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway above. you blink. “he’s running,” you mutter, barely containing your laughter. within seconds, there’s a knock at your door, and when you yell for him to come in, the door swings open to reveal a completely disheveled geto. his hair’s a mess, his suit jacket is halfway off his shoulder, and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon. “you’re serious about leaving your door unlocked?” he breathes out, a hand on the doorframe for balance. “why are you out of breath?” you ask, trying not to laugh. “you live one floor up.”

“sprinted,” he replies, straightening up. “priorities.”

mr. pickles hops off your chest with a disgruntled meow, sauntering over to sniff him. she gives a little approving chirp before settling down by his feet. “even mr. pickles forgave me,” he says, grinning like an idiot. “so, am i forgiven?” you lean back into the couch, trying to look unimpressed. “you sent me a justin bieber song.”

“a classic apology move,” he counters, stepping closer. “and gojo cat cried. that’s how sorry i am.” you roll your eyes but hold out your hand. “fine. you’re forgiven.” he takes your hand, pulling you up from the couch into his arms without hesitation. “good. because i’m never missing another ride again. next time, i’m picking you up in advance, like a whole hour early.” you snort. “you’d probably park outside my window and text me to hurry up.”

“absolutely,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll even bring coffee. and croissants.” mr. pickles lets out a loud, approving chirp. ah, love.

it did feel a little ridiculous, the way you were sprawled on top of geto on your couch, both of you tangled together in a heap of limbs. but neither of you seemed to care. he had one arm slung around your waist, keeping you steady, while his free hand lazily traced circles on your thigh. you were lying chest to chest, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "you know," he said, voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in your hair, "if i ever screw up like that again, i’m giving mr. pickles full authority to end me. claws out, no mercy." you lifted your head to meet his gaze, one eyebrow raised. "oh, she’d do it too. and with that belly of hers, she’s got some extra power now."

as if on cue, mr. pickles let out a loud, approving purr from her spot at the other end of the room, delicately grooming her very pregnant self. her tail flicked in what you could only assume was satisfaction at being included in this hypothetical revenge plot. geto chuckled, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. "there you have it. mr. pickles as judge, jury, and executioner. i’m officially terrified." you smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "as you should be. she takes no prisoners."

“and neither do i,” he murmured, his tone dipping as he tilted his head up to kiss you. the shift in mood was sudden but not unwelcome. his lips pressed against yours with the kind of determination that made you forget how to breathe for a second. his hands slid to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned back against the cushions, taking you with him. "you’re really trying to prove a point, huh?" you teased, breath hitching as his grip tightened. "i don’t think words are enough," he said between kisses, his voice low and smooth. "actions speak louder, right?" and speak they did. his hands wandered lower, firmly grabbing the soft curve of your ass, earning a surprised squeak from you. "suguru," you warned half-heartedly, though your hips involuntarily shifted against him. he grinned up at you, the picture of smug satisfaction. "what? i don’t hear you complaining."

“yet,” you shot back, but your body betrayed you, rolling your hips again as heat pooled in your stomach. "thought so," he said, voice dipping into a near growl. his hands guided your movements, holding you steady as he kissed you again, deeper this time. it wasn’t just apologetic; it was hungry, desperate, and laced with a promise to make up for every missed second. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered queen, yawned loudly from her perch. apparently, the impending chaos was none of her business.

things were absolutely peachy—literally and figuratively—because there you were, straddling geto on your worn-out couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. his tie had been discarded somewhere (you’ll probably find it wedged under the couch cushions next month), and his usually crisp shirt was wrinkled beyond salvation. his hands, warm and firm, roamed over your thighs and hips, eventually settling on your ass, which he seemed determined to commit to memory with the way he kept squeezing. it was flattering, really. all those squats and lugging around mr. pickles’ oversized carrier had not gone unnoticed.

“you’re really into this, huh?” you teased between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip just to feel the soft hitch in his breath. he grinned against your lips, shameless and unrepentant. “what can i say? i’m a man of taste.” his hands squeezed again, making you jolt slightly. “and damn, this is a masterpiece.”

“oh my god, suguru,” you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “you sound like a bad rom-com character.” he tilted his head back, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh that made your stomach flip. “hey, i call it like i see it. can’t help it if i’m honest.”

“yeah, well, your honesty’s about to get you kicked off this couch,” you shot back, though your hands betrayed you, sliding up his chest to cup his face. “oh, c’mon,” he said, leaning up to kiss you again, softer this time, like he was trying to remind you exactly why you hadn’t kicked him out yet. “you’d miss me too much.” and then, because suguru geto couldn’t let a moment of peace exist, he smirked and said, “besides, you’re the grandma of the house. gotta respect my elders.” you froze, pulling back just enough to stare at him with a look that could melt steel. “excuse me?”

“grandma,” he repeated, entirely too pleased with himself. “you know, since you’re mr. pickles’ mom and all. technically makes you—”

“i swear to god, suguru,” you interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp pinch to his side that made him yelp. “do you have a death wish?”

“what? it’s a term of endearment!” he tried, though his laughter betrayed him. “you’re lucky i like nerds,” you muttered, but your lips betrayed you, curving into a reluctant smile as you leaned down to kiss him again. “lucky indeed,” he murmured, hands finding their favorite spot once more. mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a loud, judgmental meow from her perch, as if to remind both of you who really ran this house.

and geto? geto was panicking. like, full-blown, internal monologue of doom panicking. sure, he looked calm on the outside—well, except for the faint pink creeping up his neck and the way his hands were starting to tremble just a bit against your hips. but inside? oh, it was a mess.

he loves ass. he loves your ass. in fact, he loves you. and while those three facts should be enough to keep him focused and confident, they were doing the exact opposite. because—plot twist—he hasn’t exactly been in the game for a while. “okay, breathe, suguru,” he muttered to himself under his breath, trying to keep his cool as your hands idly played with the collar of his shirt. but your superwoman instincts picked up on everything , and your raised brow as you looked down at him only made things worse. “you good?” you asked, voice soft and teasing, but laced with genuine concern. “yeah, totally,” he replied too quickly, clearing his throat like that would erase the way his voice cracked. “i’m just—uh. just, you know... thinking.” you tilted your head, watching him with that infuriatingly cute little smile that made his stomach flip. “about what? you’re usually a lot smoother than this, geto.”

“oh god, i’m blowing it,” he groaned, letting his head thump lightly against the back of the couch as he finally let the words tumble out. “it’s just... it’s been a while, okay? i’m out of practice or whatever, and now i’m worried i’m gonna, like, disappoint you or something. and that grandma joke? yeah, that was supposed to kill the mood so i could avoid all of this.” you blinked at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. “are you serious right now?”

“painfully.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand still planted on your hip. “you’re amazing, and i just... i don’t want to mess this up.” for a moment, you just stared at him, and he could feel himself shrinking under your gaze. but then, the smile that spread across your face was nothing short of wicked. “oh, suguru,” you murmured, leaning down so your lips brushed against his ear. “you have no idea what’s coming, do you?” his breath hitched as your hand slid down to the buttons of his shirt, popping one open with a practiced ease that made his heart skip a beat. “w-what do you mean?”

“i mean,” you said, voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sent shivers down his spine, “i’m about to make sure you never, ever doubt yourself again. you’re gonna be too busy thanking me to think about whether or not you’re ‘out of practice.’”

he swallowed hard, trying to think of a coherent response, but all that came out was a strangled, “uh — okay.”

“good,” you said simply, shifting your weight and sliding down his lap. and as he looked down at you, wide-eyed and completely at your mercy, one thing became crystal clear to suguru geto: he was absolutely, 100%, in over his head.

diva down? diva down. the diva in question being you. you, the self-proclaimed diva of the century, were currently on your knees, ready to turn suguru geto’s jittery, bashful energy into something far more relaxed—well, if relaxed meant completely wrecked. and honestly? you were thriving. “oh god,” geto let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his loose hair as he looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes hazy with anticipation. “you don’t have to—”

“stop,” you cut him off with a teasing smirk, fingers already working on his belt with the precision of someone on a mission. “don’t ruin my moment, suguru.” he laughed again, that soft, breathless kind that made your stomach do flips. “right, wouldn’t dream of it.” as you slid his belt free and popped open the button of his slacks, you couldn’t help but notice how his chest rose and fell just a bit faster, the faintest hint of nerves lingering in his gaze. “you good up there?” you asked, giving him a little grin. “y-yeah,” he stammered, licking his lips. “just... uhh, taking it all in.”

“oh, you’re gonna be taking a lot more than that in a second,” you teased, tugging at his slacks. he groaned, tipping his head back against the couch as he laughed again, but he still lifted his hips eagerly to help you slide the fabric down. and holy shit. those slacks had been doing a lot of heavy lifting, and now, with them out of the way, you were faced with undeniable proof that suguru geto was not just hot, but also packing. “damn,” you muttered, your eyes widening just a bit as you took him in. “what?” he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness, but also curiosity. “nothing,” you said quickly, though your smirk betrayed you. “just... wow.”

“wow?” he echoed, his brows lifting.

“wow,” you confirmed, leaning in closer. “you’re full of surprises, huh?”

he chuckled softly, his hand coming down to rest gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that was almost too sweet for the situation. “i could say the same about you,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “oh, suguru,” you said with a teasing lilt, your hands bracing against his thighs as you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him. “you have no idea.” and as you finally got to work, suguru let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan, his head tipping back as his hand slid into your hair. yeah, it was definitely going to be a long night—for both of you. and honestly?

bless men raised by their mothers. or at least men who respect women beyond a surface level, because suguru geto? he was proving himself to be a certified sweetheart even with his brain turned to mush. "god, you're...you're so good at this," he babbled, voice pitched just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "like—ohhh, fuck—you’re perfect. seriously, i don’t know how—fuck—you’re even real."

you couldn’t help but smirk around him, though the sheer earnestness in his tone was making your head spin. suguru wasn’t just moaning—no, he was giving you a running commentary like his life depended on it. and honestly? the mix of his praise, his ridiculous vocabulary, and the raw honesty of his reactions were doing more for you than you cared to admit. "shiiit, babe," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips shifted just slightly, like he was trying to hold himself back. "you’re incredible. so... so fucking—god, you’re beautiful." you hummed against him, letting the vibrations travel through him, and the broken moan he let out in response was almost enough to make you moan.“i—fuck,” he stammered, his free hand clenching and unclenching on the couch cushion as though he was trying to ground himself. “i can’t even—fuck, you’re amazing. you know that, right? like, amazing.”

it was ridiculous, really. this level of detailed, horny babbling shouldn’t be hot, and yet, suguru’s desperate, unfiltered honesty was doing a number on you. you’d kiss him if your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. “you’re gonna—oh fuck, you’re gonna ruin me,” he rasped, his words punctuated by a low, shaky laugh. “like, actually. no coming back from this. you’re—shit—so perfect, babe. i don’t even know how you’re real.” you glanced up at him briefly, catching the flush on his cheeks and the dazed, almost reverent look in his eyes. he looked wrecked already, and you weren’t even close to finished. yeah, men raised right were a blessing. and suguru geto? he was living proof.

suguru was going to cry. or die. or both. maybe at the same time. because when a simple, god-loving, god-fearing man like him thought of you—his girl, his love—his mind didn’t stop at the surface. no, it wandered far, far into the future. he dared to dream big: marriage, a nice house with you, gojo cat and mr. pickles running the place with their eventual brood of kittens, and maybe, if he let himself get really carried away, a kid or two of your own. but this? this was not in the script. not the way he imagined this happening, not this soon. was he complaining, though? no, not one bit. still, suguru couldn’t shake the way his brain was short-circuiting. what if you thought this was weird? not the moment itself—because, holy shit, this moment was unreal—but the way he couldn’t control the ridiculous rambling bubbling out of him.

“god, you’re... you’re gonna be the death of me,” he stammered, his voice breaking slightly as his hand tightened on the couch cushion beneath him. “seriously. i’m done for. you’ve—fuck—you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. literally, figuratively... h-hell, every way there is.” he let out a shaky laugh, his other hand brushing the edge of your jaw, his touch featherlight like he was afraid he’d break you—or worse, wake up and find out this was all a dream. “you have no idea, do you?” he murmured, his tone softening even as his breaths came uneven. “how much i—fuck, how much i love you.”

that admission was supposed to stay locked in his chest, hidden away alongside the future house and the diary full of thoughts he would probably never admit aloud. but there it was, laid bare in the open. his throat tightened as he watched for your reaction, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break free. his mind raced with every possibility—what if you thought he was moving too fast? what if this ruined everything?

you were going to die. or cry. or both. maybe not in that order, but the emotional whiplash was real. because while you were—let's face it—giving the performance of your life, suguru geto had the audacity to play the wildest card in his hand: he told you he loved you. the words hit you like a sucker punch, making your brain screech to a halt. you paused, pulling him out of your mouth with a slick, obscene pop, a strand of spit still connecting the two of you as you gaped at him like he’d just told you the earth was flat. “wait, what?” your voice was hoarse, a little breathless, and full of disbelief. your hands remained steady on his thighs, but you weren’t about to let that slide. “say that again.”

suguru blinked at you, his flushed face half-covered by the messy curtain of his hair. and yet, somehow, he still looked every bit the breathtaking dork you fell for. “i... i said i love you,” he mumbled, his voice soft, but you could see the telltale signs of his nerves in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. oh, you knew you won now. your lips curved into a sly, wicked grin, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons that had nothing to do with what you were doing moments ago. “good,” you said simply, your voice low and teasing, before brushing your thumb over his hip bone in a way that made him shiver. “because i love you too, suguru.” the way his eyes widened, his chest hitching in disbelief, was almost enough to undo you completely. but you weren’t done. oh no, not by a long shot.

you leaned in again, doubling down on your efforts with a newfound determination, your mouth warm and eager as you took him back in. this time, you didn’t hold back, letting him feel just how much you meant those words. the soft noises tumbling out of him turned into broken, desperate moans as you let him slide deeper, letting him bump against the back of your throat with a confidence that made his hips jerk. “holy—fucck, baby, ” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hands instinctively tangled in your hair. “you’re—oh my god—i can’t—”

and just like that, he was gone. the way his body tensed, his hand gripping the back of the couch like a lifeline, was all the warning you got before he tipped over the edge, his release hitting you with an intensity that left him trembling beneath you. you pulled back slightly, swallowing and smirking as he looked down at you with dazed, love-struck eyes, his chest heaving. “you okay there, lover boy?” you teased, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you crawled up to straddle him. he groaned, dragging his hands over his flushed face, but even through his embarrassment, you could see the adoration shining in his gaze. “you’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but the small, lovesick smile on his lips said he wouldn’t have it any other way.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of his mind, suguru was thinking about reciprocity in customary international law—something about how states are expected to treat each other in kind. why this popped into his head as he helped you up from your knees, he had no idea. maybe his brain was short-circuiting from everything that had just transpired. or maybe it was just his nerdy coping mechanism for the sheer intensity of what was about to go down. either way, he shelved the thought because all he knew—clearly, distinctly, and beyond a shadow of a doubt—was that you needed help. erm, his girl needed help. and suguru geto? he was nothing if not a gentleman. “alright, up you go,” he said, his voice warm and teasing as he hooked an arm around you, effortlessly lifting you.

before you could even fully process what was happening, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed. “oh my god, suguru!” you squealed, smacking his back, but there was no real heat behind it. " shh, this is for your benefit,” he said, laughing softly as he adjusted his grip. and with a surprising amount of precision for a man who had just been thoroughly flustered minutes earlier, he tossed you onto the bed. somehow, miraculously, you landed gracefully—no awkward angles or unflattering positions. before you could catch your breath, suguru was already yanking down your pajama shorts, his movements sure and deliberate. his hair, still a little messy from your earlier efforts, framed his face as he looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. you smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows. “you know, if you’re really feeling sorry, there’s one thing you could do.” his brows raised, intrigued. “oh? what’s that?”

“sit down,” you said casually, leaning back against the pillows. “because i’m sitting on your face.” suguru froze for half a second, and you could swear you saw his soul leave his body. but then he let out a low, almost reverent laugh, his hands already sliding up your thighs as he knelt onto the bed. “you’re killing me,” he muttered, his lips curving into a grin that was equal parts adoring and wicked. “but if you insist…” and as he settled himself beneath you, looking up at you with pure devotion, he thought to himself—if he had a ring right now, he’d propose without a second thought.

sit on his face? seriously? where the hell did that confidence come from? because let’s be real—have you ever sat on someone’s face before? no? yeah, that’s what i thought. so it really serves you right for hovering over suguru’s face in the most awkward, hesitant way possible after you practically tore your underwear off like a woman on a mission. and suguru, bless his sweet, sweet soul, was waiting so patiently. expectantly, even. until he let out this deep chuckle—low and warm and way too sexy for your own good—and before you could spiral any further into overthinking, he reached up and yanked you down onto his face. oh. OH. there was no time to process, no moment to think, because suddenly the same mouth that usually went on and on about laws, treaties, and whatever international nonsense was now french kissing your cunt like it was his one true calling in life.

you moaned—loud and borderline pornographic—but could you really help it? suguru groaned against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you as his grip tightened on your thighs, holding you firmly in place like he had absolutely no plans of letting you escape. you tried. god, you tried to play it cool. tried to pull a geto on him with a little bit of horny babbling of your own, figuring he’d appreciate the effort. but every time you so much as opened your mouth to string a coherent sentence together, suguru would double down on his actions—his tongue flicking or curling in ways that had you seeing stars—and whatever you’d been planning to say vanished into the void, replaced by high-pitched whines and breathy moans.

“suguru—oh my god—”

he hummed in response, the sound smug and almost teasing as he looked up at you from between your legs, his dark eyes practically glowing with amusement and pride. “you talk too much,” he mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear enough to make your face heat up. and honestly? you’d be offended if he weren’t so goddamn good at what he was doing.

geto was putting in the work. the work. and you? you were trying not to cry or completely lose your mind, but if you did, you had a sneaking suspicion he’d love it more than anything. the man had a thing for drama—especially if it was drama he caused. but in the middle of all this face-sitting, tongue-lapping, thigh-gripping madness, you noticed something else.

geto was hard. painfully so. the sight of him below you was already sinful enough, but the way his erection strained against his boxers, twitching every time you moaned his name, was almost too much. his response time to recover was unreal—maddening, even—but considering it was you on top of him, you liked to think you deserved the credit. and since a wise saying says to love your neighbor as yourself, you decided to help a man out. literally. your hand snaked down between you two, wrapping around his length with a touch that had him freezing for a split second. “what are you—oh, fuck, ” geto choked out, the sound muffled against your thighs as you yanked down his boxers and started stroking him.

he let out a garbled groan and—you couldn’t make this up—spat. he outright spat onto your cunt, the hot slickness dripping between your folds, and you? you loved it. the move earned him a sharp gasp, followed by a breathless laugh as you sped up your hand, squeezing him just enough to draw out those pretty whines you loved so much. “oh my god, suguru,” you teased, voice shaky but teasing nonetheless. “did you just—?”

“shut up,” he grunted, his words nearly swallowed by a low moan as you swiped your thumb over his tip. “you’re the one—fuck—driving me insane right now.” and judging by the desperate way he buried his face against you, tongue moving feverishly as his hips bucked into your hand, you’d say he was enjoying this just as much as you were. but the real kicker? when you came, your body instinctively pressed down against his face, your thighs squeezing tight enough to almost cut off his air supply. geto didn’t complain. not once. if anything, the muffled groan against your cunt and the way he jerked against your hand as he came told you he’d gladly die like this if it came to it. but luckily for both of you, you lived to tell the tale.

once the both of you had managed to throw on some semblance of clothing, clean up, and collapse into the bed, that’s when reality hit geto like a brick wall. what. the. hell. just happened. as he laid there, his arm slung lazily around you, your soft breathing against his chest, his brain decided now was the perfect time to spiral. he glanced over at mr. pickles, who sat perched on the counter in the kitchenette, her tail flicking in judgment. the cat looked like she was debating calling the authorities on him for defiling her beloved owner. oh god. what does this make the two of you?

no, scratch that. the real panic set in when he remembered: he told you he loved you. not in some subtle, cute, roundabout way either. no, it was the full-blown, l-o-v-e type of confession. the kind he wrote about in his secret diary he kept under his bed. the kind that implied white picket fences, shared dreams, and a life together. and judging by the way you were pressed against him, one leg draped over his, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his bare chest (because yes, the formal shirt had been entirely ditched), you were either about to let him down easy or...

oh god.

“you okay?” your soft voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, your hand pausing its movements as you tilted your head to look up at him. he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. “uh, yeah. yeah, totally fine.” you squinted at him, your lips twitching like you were trying not to laugh. “you sure? you’re looking a little... out of it.” well, there was no way out of this now. in all his dorkus glory, he blurted out the dreaded question:

“so, uh... what are we?”

the words hung in the air for a second, and geto wanted to melt into the mattress. but instead of laughing or teasing him, you smiled, your expression soft and fond. “what do you want us to be?”

“i mean...” he swallowed hard, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “i said i loved you, so... maybe something serious?” you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “good. because i’m not letting you go after that performance, lover boy.” and just like that, geto decided he could die happy. even if mr. pickles never forgave him.

chapter 6: the class you’ll never forget

geto woke up feeling like the main character in some rom-com where everything had finally fallen into place. the sun was shining directly on his face, his skin was clear, the tension that had been tying his muscles in knots for weeks was gone, and most importantly, there was you snuggled up next to him. your soft snores were music to his ears, and mr. pickles' contented purring from her nesting area completed the picture. everything was perfect. except for the yeowling.

it started faint, like the distant sound of a car alarm, and grew steadily louder. groaning, geto rubbed his face. “what the hell...?” he suddenly bolted upright, realization hitting him like a freight train. “oh no. oh no, no, no.” you groggily stirred beside him, blinking up at him in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

“gojo,” he groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “i left him alone in my apartment last night. he probably thinks i’m dead.” you blinked, then snorted. “that’s dramatic, even for a cat.”

but geto wasn’t joking. he’d seen gojo cat throw tantrums over him leaving for ten minutes to grab milk. this? this was abandonment on a grand scale in the eyes of the overly dramatic feline. as if on cue, the voice of your landlord, yaga, boomed from the other side of the door. “keep that cat quiet, or i’m calling animal control!” you gasped indignantly, sitting up. “excuse me! mr. pickles would never—”

“it’s not mr. pickles!” geto groaned, already throwing on his pants. “it’s my overly theatrical—”

just as he was about to open the door to go upstairs, a loud thud echoed from the direction of your fire escape. the two of you froze.

“what was that?” you whispered.

geto peeked out the window, his jaw dropping. “oh my god. no.”

there, perched precariously on the fire escape outside your window, was gojo cat. his tail swished furiously, and he was glaring through the glass like he had just tracked his runaway owner down on sheer willpower alone.

“he... jumped from my window to yours.”

“that’s, like, one story up!” you exclaimed.

“i know!”

gojo cat let out another ear-piercing yeowwww! that sounded suspiciously like he was cursing geto out in feline language. “okay, okay , i’m coming!” geto sighed, sliding the window open to let the cat in. gojo cat pranced inside with all the dignity of someone who had just won an olympic gold medal, ignoring you entirely as he hopped onto geto’s torso and began aggressively kneading his shoulder. “i’m sorry, okay?” geto muttered. “i didn’t mean to abandon you.” gojo cat meowed smugly, his forgiveness conditional.

“so... how mad would you be if i told you yaga still thinks this is mr. pickles’ fault?” you asked, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. geto groaned, flopping back onto the bed, gojo cat still perched on his chest. “this is my life now. cat dad, tenant offender, and boyfriend to the world’s most beautiful woman.” you grinned, kissing his cheek. “and don’t you forget it.”

gojo cat, ever the drama queen, was about to make a grand display of his wrath, his tail swishing like an emperor preparing to deliver a royal decree. but then, he saw her.

mr. pickles. lounging in her nesting area, belly round with her impending litter, she cast him the most witheringly judgmental side-eye known to catkind. it wasn’t even subtle. her disdain radiated like heat off asphalt, and for a moment, gojo cat’s indignant rage faltered. but then, like the suave rogue he believed himself to be, he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and strutted toward her with a confidence that could only be described as delusional. it was all tail flicks and exaggerated steps, as though the very floor beneath him had the privilege of bearing his paws.

and then—smack. the grand feline tumbled, face planting into the ground with all the grace of a wet noodle.

you tried to stifle your laugh, but the sound still slipped out. geto choked back a snort, muttering, “that’s my boy.” mr. pickles, however, did not laugh. no, the dignified queen merely let out a single approving chirp, a sound that might have translated to "pathetic, but amusing." gojo cat, undeterred by his embarrassing mishap, rose with renewed determination. and with the kind of courage that made you question if he had a screw loose, he approached mr. pickles once more, his intentions clear.

“no way,” you whispered.

“he wouldn’t,” geto added, equally mesmerized.

but he did. gojo cat, in what he undoubtedly believed was the ultimate gesture of love, began grooming mr. pickles. grooming her. and she let him.

for a moment, you thought she was going to swipe at him with all the fury of a hormonal mom-to-be. but no. she actually closed her eyes, her purring like a soft motor. it was... surreal.

“did we just witness the biggest romance of the century?” you asked, genuinely baffled. “bigger than us?” geto teased, pulling you closer. “way bigger,” you deadpanned.

as you both watched the unlikely duo share their moment, you couldn’t help but laugh. gojo cat was clearly putting his all into his attempt at love, and mr. pickles? well, she looked like she was actually enjoying it.

“ah, love,” geto sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your head. “even dumber than us,” you added, shaking your head in disbelief.

you were on cloud nine, feeling a level of peace and contentment that only came from having a hot law nerd boyfriend and a cat with enough sass to rival gojo cat himself. geto's bmw hummed quietly beneath you as the two of you cruised toward campus. it wasn’t just the morning coffee kicking in; it was the knowledge that if this man dared to be late—even by two minutes—mr. pickles would end him. like, not even metaphorically. she’d leap on him, claws out, and make him regret. because mr. pickles loved his hair. she loved kneading it, curling her paws into his long, luscious locks as if claiming her personal throne. and honestly? you got it. if you were a cat, you’d do the same. hell, even as a human, you’d do it (and did, regularly).

as he pulled into the parking lot, the goodbye routine began. “don’t forget to text me when your class ends,” he said, already pulling you into a warm hug. “don’t forget to pick me up, or we’re breaking up,” you countered sweetly, earning a laugh from him. “you’re scary, you know that?” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “and you’re my very gorgeous, very whipped boyfriend,” you shot back, leaning up for a kiss. he wouldn’t dream of ghosting you—not when you were this beautiful, amazing, kind, and, obviously, a little unhinged. as he opened your door and helped you out like the true gentleman he was, he insisted on walking you all the way to the front entrance. his hand rested at the small of your back, a gesture that had you swooning even as you teased him.

“you do know you’re going to be late, right?”

“worth it,” he replied with a grin, bending down to kiss your cheek. but just as you were about to part ways, a booming voice shattered the moment.

“GETO! LAW STUDENTS BUILDING! NOW!”

you both turned to see a very exasperated professor waving frantically at him from across the quad. you couldn’t help but laugh as geto sighed, muttering under his breath about how “love is a battlefield.” he gave you one last kiss, muttered a promise to pick you up later (or else), and jogged off. you watched him go, smiling like an idiot as you whispered, “ah, love.”

the day started fine. better than fine, actually—you left geto’s bmw with a kiss and the knowledge that your cat, mr. pickles, was safe and sound in her nesting area, glaring at gojo cat with the fury only a pregnant feline could muster. but halfway through your lecture on post-modern feminist theories (a riveting topic, truly), your phone buzzed. it wasn’t a normal notification. no, it was the cctv feed suguru had installed as a “gift” to keep an eye on your “queen” (read: your absolute dictator cat). and there she was—mr. pickles—kneading her nesting area with an urgency that sent a chill down your spine.

“oh. oh no. oh dear god.” you whispered, staring at the screen as she let out a war cry that could only mean one thing: grandmahood was happening. you shot up from your seat so fast your desk screeched against the floor. “is everything okay?” your professor asked, startled by your abrupt movement.

“uh, yeah! just — cat emergency! she’s — uh — giving birth!” you stammered, already halfway out the door.

“congratulations?” someone in the back called out, earning a round of laughter you had no time for.

you sprinted through campus like a woman possessed, your backpack bouncing behind you as you cursed yourself for not realizing mr. pickles’ morning mood wasn’t jealousy but labor. and then—because fate had to test you—geto appeared, casually strolling toward the law building with his usual unbothered grace. “babe?” he called out, watching you bolt past him like you were auditioning for the olympics. “no time to explain!” you yelled over your shoulder. he frowned, putting two and two together because, let’s face it, the man’s a genius. “is it mr. pickles?!”

“YES!”

and then he started running behind you.

“suguru!” you wheezed, already out of breath. “GET YOUR CAR!”

“why?” he shouted, effortlessly keeping pace with you.

“because we’re running across a campus that’s like thousand acres and I WILL DIE!”

he paused, muttering something about how you were so dramatic, before pivoting on his heel and sprinting toward the parking lot.

you barely made it to the main road before suguru’s bmw skidded to a stop beside you.

“get in!” he barked, throwing the passenger door open.

“i swear to god, if she starts delivering while we’re stuck in traffic —”

“she’s not gonna start without you,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“cats don’t work like that, suguru!”

“well, neither do women, but here we are,” he shot back, pulling into the driveway of your building.

you bolted out of the car, taking the stairs two at a time while suguru trailed behind with all the urgency of a man who knows he’ll be the one cleaning up whatever mess awaited. when you burst into the apartment, mr. pickles was mid-contraction, glaring at you like, finally, my useless human has arrived. gojo cat, meanwhile, looked terrified, hovering at a safe distance as if he was considering calling 911. “okay, okay, we’re here!” you panted, dropping to your knees beside mr. pickles. suguru followed, looking at the scene with wide eyes. “do...do we call a vet?”

“no! she’s got this. we just have to support her!”

“support her how?”

“i don’t know! emotional support?”

“she’s a cat!”

mr. pickles let out a low growl, silencing suguru’s protests. “okay, okay, i’ll shut up,” he muttered, backing away slightly. the door creaked open, and there stood shoko, still in her scrubs and sporting the exhausted yet curious expression of someone returning from a night shift only to walk straight into chaos. “what’s going on here?” she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. you barely spared her a glance as you clutched suguru’s arm. “mr. pickles is in labor. it’s a whole thing. prayers are appreciated.”

“prayers?” she scoffed, stepping closer. “i’m a doctor. i got this.”

relief washed over you. “thank god, shoko! we could use an actual professional!”

but the moment she peeked over the edge of mr. pickles’ nesting area and caught sight of a tiny kitten halfway out, her calm demeanor shattered.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!”

“what do you think it is?” suguru deadpanned, visibly unimpressed. “i don’t know! i didn’t sign up for this!” shoko shrieked, stumbling backward and holding her hands up as if warding off an unholy demon.

you blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded. “aren’t you a doctor?”

“a human doctor! this is nature gone rogue! ”

mr. pickles, clearly unamused by shoko’s dramatics, let out a low, guttural growl that sent the so-called professional scurrying back to the doorway. “you’re on your own,” shoko muttered, lighting a cigarette like the events unfolding in your living room weren’t directly her problem. meanwhile, gojo cat, always the overachiever, decided he needed to help. unfortunately, his idea of help involved attempting to paw at the nearest kitten. “don’t even think about it!” suguru warned, his voice laced with exasperation.

but it was too late—mr. pickles, mid-contraction, turned her fiery gaze on gojo cat, who froze like a deer in headlights. one wrong flick of his tail, and mr. pickles let out a feral hiss that could have sent shoko back to med school. gojo cat, realizing he had crossed the line, slinked back to the corner, tail tucked between his legs, his usual swagger replaced with what could only be described as embarrassed defeat. “well, that’s one way to keep him in line,” you muttered.

“this is insane,” shoko said, still watching from the doorway. “how do you people live like this?”

“we manage,” suguru replied, his tone completely void of humor as he massaged his temples.

the next hour was a whirlwind of cat screams, your whispered words of encouragement, and suguru pacing like an expectant father in a sitcom. “should we name one after me?” he asked at one point, earning a glare from both you and mr. pickles as she finally let out one final push, and another tiny kitten entered the world. you let out a relieved sigh, and suguru finally cracked a smile. he was crouched beside you, holding your hand as if you were the one giving birth. “you did amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“she did amazing,” you corrected, motioning to mr. pickles.

“team effort,” he replied with a grin.

and as mr. pickles began cleaning her newest babies, shoko muttered from the door, “you’re all insane. call me when it’s over.”

“you’re the godmother, shoko!” you called after her, earning a muffled string of curses as she disappeared down the hall.

“we’re gonna need so much cat food,” he muttered, pulling you close.

ah, the miracle of life.

a few weeks had passed since d-day—delivery day, or as suguru had renamed it, “domestic chaos day.” the kittens were growing faster than you thought possible, transforming your once peaceful apartment into a battlefield. mr. pickles ruled the roost with an iron paw, while gojo cat’s ego took a daily beating as the kittens bested him at every turn. every time one managed to leap higher, run faster, or swipe his tail just right, his tail would puff up in indignation like a furry balloon. you’d managed to rehome a few of the kittens, starting with shoko.

her kitten—affectionately dubbed “roach” for her uncanny ability to survive despite zero effort—was the perfect match. low-maintenance, unfazed, and perpetually napping. shoko had initially protested, but now you’d catch her sending you pictures of roach curled up in her sink or casually perched on her liquor cabinet.

then there was yuuji. poor, sweet, persistent yuuji. he’d campaigned harder for a kitten than some politicians do for office. the boy went through hoops — begging you, suguru, choso, sukuna, and even mr. pickles. you weren’t sure how he’d pulled it off, but eventually, he was deemed worthy of a black-and-white troublemaker he promptly named “gumi.” the kitten adored yuuji and spent most of his time riding on his shoulders like a parrot, though you suspected yuuji let him get away with far too much.

sukuna, on the other hand, had reluctantly taken the runt of the litter after it refused to leave him alone. “don’t need some damn cat,” he’d grumbled the entire way home. now? the tiny kitten followed him everywhere, even sneaking into his apron pockets after he came back from work. he pretended to hate it, but the soft grumbles about “stupid runt” were always followed by careful, protective pats on the kitten’s tiny head.

but the biggest surprise of all came when suguru decided to make your relationship public—on linkedin. linkedin, of all places.

it had started as a joke. you’d teased him about not “properly asking you out” after all this time, and before you knew it, he’d crafted a three-paragraph-long post about you. “in a comitted relationship with the love of my life, and no, this isn’t a humble brag — it’s a masterpiece,” he’d typed with the fervor of a man defending his dissertation. the post included references to romantic literature, quotes from classic movies, and, somehow, a detailed analysis of how mr. pickles and gojo cat played pivotal roles in your story.

you’d wanted to die of second-hand embarrassment, but the post blew up. colleagues, professors, and even strangers commented, congratulating the two of you. “you’re insane,” you’d told him, hiding your face in his chest as he laughed. “insane about you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

life wasn’t perfect — it was loud, chaotic, and occasionally overwhelming. but with mr. pickles, gojo cat, and your ridiculous yet lovable boyfriend, it was better than you ever imagined.

feline parenthood? best decision ever.

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misscherry-26 · 4 months ago

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I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where they’re in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!

Unspoken Feelings

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...👀 By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. ❤️

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

He really thinks he’s the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.

They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.

But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you aren’t the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didn’t. You don’t know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.

Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each other’s throat every single moment. It’s like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His motto—whatever the hell we want—rings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you can’t ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.

When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasn’t livable.

And then, there was the Grounder. The way he’d dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes then—cold, calculating, determined—was a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’s always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. It’s infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.

Yet, there’s something in his attitude —something in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. It’s in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like he’s gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it too—the tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration that’s more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You don’t know whether you want to scream at him or—

But no, you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.

You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.

Taking a deep breath, you continue.

After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant you’re looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.

But then—a sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.

Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.

They could be watching, waiting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckle—soft, mocking, and far too familiar.

Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.

There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.

“I see you like to test my patience, Princess.” His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.

You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.

“I remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? There’s no special treatment here.” You hear him from behind.

“I wasn’t going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.”

“He’s stable enough; we don’t need anyone else getting hurt over this.” Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.

You clench your teeth and turn. “Look, I couldn’t care less what you think. I don’t go by your rules.”

Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.

“Don’t touch me!”

Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamy’s mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. He’s been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.

Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless bravery—all of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, there’s something about you that pulls at him.

He can’t quite distinguish it, but it’s there—a magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. It’s in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. It’s in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than he’s willing to admit.

The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something else—something he can’t easily define or control. It’s a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.

All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he can’t seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why he’s so determined to keep you safe.

He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.

“Let’s go back—”

“I won’t.” You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.

Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.

Next thing you know, your feet aren’t touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.

“Let me go!” You protest.

“Stop screaming, you are putting us in danger” He doesn’t listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.

You scoff, moving frantically. “If you cared so much about safety, you wouldn’t be carrying me off like I’m just another pack to you!”

Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

“You’re the one making noise,” he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. “Keep quiet or—”

You hear it then—a rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.

For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.

“Run,” he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.

But there’s no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closer—footsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.

Up ahead, you spot a dark opening—a cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesn’t resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but it’s cover.

Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamy’s hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.

“We’re not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.” he mutters, barely audible.

Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.

“Get your hand off me.” You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”

You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. “I don’t need you to save my life, Bellamy.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it—just a sharp, bitter edge. “You think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.”

You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. “Then why are you here?” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “Why do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"

His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“Maybe because I’m trying to keep you alive!” he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. “You are always doing this—taking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. “No, but maybe you do,” you whisper fiercely. “Coming out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly can’t stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?”

He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. “I don’t!” he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.

“Liar,” you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. “If you didn’t care, you’d have let me go. You wouldn’t have come after me, wouldn’t have—”

His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you just admit it? All this, you’re not really angry. You’re scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to m—"

But he doesn’t let you finish. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like he’s trying to silence every word, every protest.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. It’s like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into this—this raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.

“Why do you care?” you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Maybe I’m frustrated…so damn frustrated because—” He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “—because you’ve got a way of getting under my skin, and it’s driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. I’m worried. Happy?”

His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you can’t name.

"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.

His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.

And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.

#misscherry 26's answers #misscherry 26's requests #bellamy blake angst #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake imagine #Bellamy Blake fic #the 100 bellamy #bellamy blake smut

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meanbossart · 24 days ago

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ASK COMPILATION: BODY HAIR, BHAALIST DU DROW, BLOOD INQUIRIES, THE MAN'S DICK AND HOBBIES.

Answering more asks! As always, I want to apologize for not being able to get to everyone - literally nobody has ever complained about it, but I still feel bad 😅I appreciate everyone's questions and sweet messages all the same, and even if your ask isn't here I hope you can be entertained by the other replies!

Anon I feel terrible about having to say this because I can tell you were hoping for a specific answer here, plus doing your very best to sell your pitch to me -

But DU drow hates body hair.

I'm not making this up in the spot just to be a contrarian, this is one of various unimportant character details that have come up already at some point or another, for whatever reason. It is no coincidence that many of the characters he finds unattractive do have visible body hair, like Gale and Halsin whose hairy toes he dreads the sight of.

I refuse to believe that elves are truly dolphin-smooth as that would be an absolute biological nightmare, so both him and Astarion have a normal amount of peach-fuzz all over. Otherwise, DU drow finds the sight of anything longer/coarser than that unseemly, and the feeling unpleasant; it is simply what he grew up with and hence what he's used to. In this respect, he wants people who take after his own image.

As with most things, he could forgive it if he were in love with someone - assuming you don't mind the occasional joke about it. And unfortunately I think something as significant as Halsin's case would be too off-putting for him to ever give them a chance. A Shadowheart situation, on the other hand, he could grow to like.

I believe there's some sources that imply bhaal-corrupted(?) blood should taste a particular way, leaning towards the unpleasant. People can make up whatever headcanons they want with that information, BUT since I spent over half of this game supplying the guy with the stuff and he seemed all too pleased about it, I choose to assume it's not that bad.

I think there would be something... Lively about it? Fairly normal taste but it leaves a tingle on his tongue, like it squirms on its way out and dies in his mouth moments before it can hit the throat. Very salty, but it could just be his skin.

[FAR, FAR MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Bhaalist DU drow likes both cats and dogs just fine (again, he considers the animal kingdom to be it's own thing and hence removed from his fate to butcher humanity) and you wouldn't be wrong to assume he has a thing for dogs in that AU because of their unconditionally loving and loyal nature, however Bhaalist DU drow is still very much a cat person. He likes their independence, their little attitudes, their self-sufficiency, plus the fact that they keep the rat population in check inside the temple. He finds those qualities admirable, respectable, perhaps he would even find them desirable in a partner if, unlike he cats, he wasn't so opposed to them roaming free.

In-game DU drow succeeded the check required to spot Astarion before he could jump him - so yes, just not the version where they end up rolling awkward around the sand for 2 minutes, LOL.

He's semi aware of it, or at least he becomes aware whenever Astarion's mask slips. When Astarion is putting on a good performance, DU drow wholeheartedly believes it. Also, It's worth noting that Astarion does manage to have fun occasionally, and have periods of... Superficial happiness? They just so happen to be unfulfilling, and don't make up for all the other pitfalls of his situation when they inevitably come crashing back. He's also great at tricking himself into thinking this is a good time.

Bhaalist DU drow makes vague attempts at "making things better" whenever he catches him in a mood, usually through physical affection or lavish gifts. That works well enough the first year I think, before everything kind of loses its luster. After that, DU drow just gets it into his head that Astarion "doesn't understand what he must do to succeed and keep him safe".

This is a VERY interesting observation and... Maybe? Especially early in the relationship, DU drow finds Astarion's quasi-predatorial behavior very attractive, but only AFTER he notices his vampirism. I think this outlook of the character contextualizes Astarion's condition in a way that he can immediately understand and simpathize with, even if DU drow doesn't know much about vampires themselves. Of course, this is specific to Astarion - he does not extend this grace to the rest of his kind.

I'll be thinking about this one!

I don't know the video in question but from your description I think they would both be VERY confused, LOL.

HMM, I think that might actually depend on a lot of things! Assuming the woman (or just the other partner) in the relationship isn't a drow, and exactly what KIND of devotion we're talking about (is the drow pro-active? Protective? Does he put his neck on the line for this relationship with pride? Does he seem strong and capable and like he doesn't rely on his partner?) he might see enough of himself in him that they could actually get along. This is similar to how DU drow immediately took a liking to Aylin even though she's this moon-goddess child and a supposed beacon of justice.

The quickest way to get on DU drow's good side is to be the idealized version of what he believes himself to be. Oh, and not get in his way.

If they're both drow it's kind of hopeless though, yeah LOL.

Planning on it!!

DU drow never slept with Haarlep! He only took his clothes off and then attacked him full in the nude.

...I'm not sure how to justify that in the lore, but it's exactly what I did and it's too funny to take it back, LOL

I think Astarion was just kind of baffled by what transpired until DU drow turned to while hopping around pulling his pants back on and asked if he enjoyed the show, then he remembered he just loves finding any excuse to take his clothes off.

That's a lovely compliment, I definitely go for a very "organic" look so I genuinely appreciate it. Thank you!

Thank you!!! A lot has actually been said about Gortash in my #enver gortash tag, if you'd like to get all the gritty details. Suffice to say that they had a very odd but significant friendship.

DU drow is the kind of person who shoots awake as soon as the sun starts gracing the sky, but he tends to do whatever he has to do and then go back to bed right after, and stay there at least a bit past noon. He did this both in his bhaalist days and in Astarion's company, though the amount of time he spends asleep during the day definitely increases because of the vamp, especially over time!

So, the urethra in a penis is located pretty much on the underside of the shaft, so the wound actually does not reach it! As far as functions go - peeing and ejaculating - it comes out of the tip's opening as normal. When he first caused the wound it probably did puncture the urethra, but that would have closed up over time. What you see is the injury many years after the fact, after all.

So the implications are pretty minor. Aesthetically, his foreskin hangs a bit weirdly when he's soft (like a tiny little penis curtain) and has more give than usual. Functionally, he has spots within the scarred up injury that are either numb or overly sensitive. Also, you can kind of see the dickhead notch through his underwear which is fun.

Otherwise, that is pretty much it! No worries about the nature of the question I've gotten worse, LOL. Thank you for your kind words as well!

I think he used to write in his bhaalist days - very, very occasionally mind you - like if you scoured the temple you would find a dozen or so ripped up pieces of paper with little short poems on them, written in a very sharp and carefree hand. Anywhere from 3 to 10 lines per-poem, usually less than more. The sentences are descriptive of actions, never feelings or thoughts, but they don't ever seem literal.

Back in those days, he also went to the theater every other year.

Post-tadpole, he ends up dabbling in carpentry, leather-work, and enjoys listening for musical numbers taking place in taverns and inns to go to and watch. He eventually starts pulling Astarion into little slow dances when that happens. I think he might end up writing again someday, but not for many, many years.

#ask compilation #ask #bhaalist du drow #du drow and astarion

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3uthym1c · 10 months ago

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𓆩⚝𓆪 ☒ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐀 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝! 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘍𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱ ִֶָ . ָ࣪ ˑ ֗⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱ ִֶָ . ָ࣪ ˑ ֗ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ⸱ ִֶָ . ָ࣪

Ꮺ Read before getting into your group please! THERE IS A MESSAGE FOR EVERYONE AT THE END!!!

Hey y'all, it's me and I'm back. I told y'all I don't have a PAC uploading schedule 😭. I honestly just do it whenever I feel that I have the energy and then recharge. Perhaps when I'm in my "tarot reading hibernation" I'll take free requests so stay tuned (I'll have to figure out rules for requests first 😭).

Remember that you can pick more than one and to choose what resonates and STAY HYDRATED!!! I've never done a love reading before so feedback would be very appreciated.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ

For physical features I see that they have brown hair (light or dark brown). For some, your partner might have dreads, locs, or very intricate braids. Their skin may be brown or tanned (or tan easily). They have such an infectious and bright smile, it's like their whole face lights up and it's so beautiful to everyone seeing it. They're muscular, but in skinny way? I don't know how to explain it. Kind of like runners? As for their clothes or clothing style, they might wear either all black or white with a few pops of color. Like an example would be a dark t-shirt with a bright red collar thing and a necklace with a big yellow crystal.

They carry so so so much enthusiasm. Right off the bat they just bring a light very few can bring. They bring so much to people just by existing. inspiration, hope, enlightenment even? They don't even have to be extroverted they just have and give so much energy. They have so many silly little thoughts they share every now and then that seem to come out of nowhere. Their biggest character strength is gratitude. They feel so thankful for everything and everyone and they'll let you know. Oh my god pile 1 you're so lucky this person is so in love with life and will make you in love with life even more than you currently do. They will make you love being human the and feeling and tasting and dancing and experiencing that come with it. It'll have you seeing beauty in the everyday things.

Right now they're going through some really intense spiritual transformation. They need to learn to ask for help when they need it. They'll do well though. They'll find a lot of things could've been solved by just asking for help. Both you and them are at the beginning of your journeys (that doesn't mean your journey is long though), so if you guys think things are already good then I'm thinking of the phrase "universe, show me how good it can get". They're such a good cook & baker by the way. They have a lot of earth and fire placements. Extremely romantic in both the loveydovey type and the artsy sense.

When you come into their life it's very much random and unexpected. My sister just unexpectedly found an item that cleans her flute so I'll take it as a sign that you guys meet at a music / dance event or concert. Perhaps in the same class taking music lessons. Also random message: this meeting is just unavoidable, no matter what you do they'll find their way to you so don't worry. Even if you guys meet, have a conversation, and leave, you guys will keep bumping into each other. Months into your relationship, both of you will look back at this meeting as something purely magical. If they don't believe in fate or magic or some higher power, this will change their mind.

I'm also hearing, "It's so beautiful how deeply you feel." You may have been looked down on for being "overly sensitive" and "caring too much" but they very much appreciate it. Also hearing "Whatever you say, beautiful." like if you told them to do something crazy they wouldn't even question it. Literally remembered this image:

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: The Chariot (representing them), Ruby, the word "baroque", Soprano, Clownfish, Horses, Bells, Lemons, roses, letter S.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ

Straight dark brown or black hair, they like wearing more simple outfits most of the time with neutral colors but there will be days where they're like "screw it I'm going to dress all fancy just to go to the library". Often carries a backpack or suitcase or purse everywhere. Worst case of RBF (resting bitch face) ever, but their face is so gentle and pretty too. Maybe wears black glasses (maybe prescription maybe not). A little random but you might find that they look so hot when they're focused? Really nice hands, they might like to wear rings or gloves. Would probably let you paint their nails.

But when you get to know them they're actually goofy and sometimes they don't even know it. "Apartment complex? I find it quite simple actually." vibes. I think a lot of people don't like how confident they look and say stuff like "They think they're better than us." when they never even act like that. Warning they have so many haters and it isn't because they even did or said anything, people see them and their confident energy and assume so so SO much about them. They don't know that though, because to them it seems like they hate your S/O for no reason and they're so confused. In reality they're so soft and kind hearted.

Random thing - they might really like penguins? They have ungodly amounts of patience for everything and everyone it's mind boggling. They're either interested or uninterested in things, so if they're interested they will put their heart and soul into whatever it is. You can see it so well in their work and career, whatever it may be. Embodiment of the word "Meraki". Btw your S/O doesn't want me to "spoil any surprises" take it as you wish.

EDIT: Holy shit there was whole entire paragraph about what I'd guess is the "surprise" that somehow didn't end up in the reading when I copy / pasted it from Notion to tumblr?????

Going to add more to this, it seems that your partner is super shy and a little awkward if that makes sense? Like, if you ever have done readings about specific people, while you may not HEAR their voice, you can kind of feel the vibes of them talking? They kind of remind me of the smell after the rain (which if you're curious, no it was not raining at the time of me doing this reading).

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: Meraki (obviously), Cats, purple & blue, the letter R, birds visiting your backyard often, 777,

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

Instead of starting with physical appearance I think I want to start off with what they're like. Right off the bat their energy is very easy to tap into (in a good way). In fact, after I was done with pile two, I kept on getting intuitive messages for two whole days on what they're like. This whole entire pile I didn't even have to draw a single card. at all. They're extremely talkative, and I wouldn't be surprised if you constantly recieved messages and signs from them. I'd imagine it would be like recieving a loud notification on your phone because honestly whatever chance they get, their higher self constantly is there checking in on you.

They have an incredible sense of humor first of all. They will never fail to make you laugh. I hope this makes sense, but they're almost like a walking four leaf clover or lucky charm. Wherever they go they just bring good luck to themselves and people around them. Perhaps their very existence is a miracle. Their birthday may be in May. This is going to sound weird and no shade to your S/O but they're the type of person you wouldn't expect to be so smart. Usually people think of smart people as like, these serious nerdy looking people, but this person is genuinely so so smart and good at talking to others.

I bet how you guys will meet is that you'll be struggling with something and they'll walk into your life and help you. They have the sort of magic of a teacher that can explain the hardest topics so easily. One of their weaknesses is that they're a little too afraid to ask help for themselves. This person isn't JUST good boy/girl/joyfriend material, but also a great spouse.

Wouldn't be surprised if they have light hair or are ginger. If they have dark hair it's probably dyed. Their hair is so fluffy and if it's long it's very nice to just run your hand in. A very comfortable style, I could imagine that they sometimes wear soft pastel colors (Blue, green, orange mostly) or neon. Hoodlies, loose clothing, handmade clothes.

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: Four leaf clovers, 444, cats with different colored eyes (kinda specific), spiders, random light colored yarm / wool.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

Your partner is probably much taller than you. They probably have silver jewelry and long hair. They put in a LOT of effort into how they look, they always look so fashionable. They also take great care of their body too. I don't think it's to the point where they're vain though, they just take care of themselves and like dressing cool. They may have blue, green, or grey eyes.

First of all, this may come to a shock to you but your partner is very spiritual. When you meet them they'll probably have already spent years learning about and practicing their spirituality. Everyone that meets them thinks that they're mentally just wise beyond their years, and I don't mean when it comes to academics (though that might be the case). There's just something about them that makes them feel like they've been on this earth for a long long time and have witnessed many things and met many people.

They may actually be a historian, anthropologist, archivist, librarian, psychologist, or sociologist. Okay I've just been having this stuck in my head while doing this reading but I'm imagining like, a rock or statue with moss growing on it. Also I'm feeling strangely calm and warm right now. I don't know if "calm" would even describe it, it's like complete serenity.

When you meet them it might be in somewhere incredibly crowded, but it'll feel like it's just the two of you. You could maybe meet them through a friend and have a nice long night drive talking to each other. They genuinely love you. I mean obviously this is a future partner reading so of course they would, but this love runs so deep. There's not any way that I can get you to fully understand the depths of this love, so you'll just have to wait and see!

They're the type of person that makes people comfortable enough to be themselves without worrying about judgement, mostly because to be honest this person is seen as "weird" themselves. You make them love humanity, is another message I'm getting.

Also a note that I didn't even pull cards for this, it was all intuitive so usually I take it as a sign this person's energy / presence is strong and you probably receive messages and signs from their higher self a lot. Or maybe their 3d human self consciously sends positive energy your way, a sign of this is randomly feeling warm and cozy and calm for no reason. P.S. they probably think about you as much as you think about them.

ALSO!!!! PILE 4 don't stop reading it yet there's a message I got for you guys but I feel called to put it at the end separately for all of the piles!

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: 888, blueberry, lights that flicker for no reason, or maybe dreams where you see some sort of light floating around, rainbows, bees, Magician card, the word "arbiter"

𝕄𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝔼𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕐 ℙ𝕀𝕃𝔼!!!

I know someone (not all of you) is thinking "Nahh this sounds too good to be true", well 1. that's the magic of soul connections and love & 2. Please stop lowering your standards because it's "unrealistic" because I swear you're not asking for much from a person. You deserve something "too good to be true" bestie (And also, remember, YOU are a dream come true for them too 😭).

"Why me what's so special about me 🫤 " on god you're the type of person who asks for signs from your spirit guides and then ignores them like they're tiiiireeedddd. Real talk though, you don't know how beautiful you are to a strangers eyes because you grow accustomed to your face. You don't know how smart and amazing you are (and yes knowing a lot about a random show or book or random subject counts as being smart shhh).

You are so perfectly human you just DON'T KNOWWW. I

f you think like this (or even if you don't because we should all do this), I'm giving you homework. Make a list of everything you are grateful for yourself for doing / being, what topics and interests you have, your favorite fashion style, achievements, color, animal, your favorite song, things you have around the house that you like and why, etc.

YOU ARE AN INTERESTING PERSON!!!! If you have a good relationship with your parents / guardians or grandparents or aunts or siblings, ask them what they love about you. Get to know yourself!!! A lot of things are cool and special about you!!!!!!!!!

-Eiki

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halucynator · 1 year ago

Text

False Fronts

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: fake dating, arguing, not proof read and my writing 😔

Summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

there will most definitely be a part 2

i will absolutely credit @berryzxx for helping me and giving me ideas for this haha

sorry if anyone's name is Jess ily i swear mwah <;33

he's such a cutie tehe

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

You were going about your usual business, wandering the empty corridors of Hogwarts. The prospect of Defense Against the Dark Arts class, particularly with Umbridge as the professor, filled you with dread. Determined to delay your arrival as much as possible, you lingered, reluctant to head to your lesson.

As you strolled through the corridors, distant murmurs reached your ears. Tracing their origin, the faint echoes evolved into a heated dispute—a boy and a girl embroiled in a passionate disagreement. Step by step, you closed the distance until their fervent voices became distinct and clear.

"Look, Jess, it's over. O-V-E-R." You could hear the boy say to someone who you could only assume was called Jess.

"But I don't want it to be over! I still love you! Please, I'm sorry!" The girl, presumably Jess, begged.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you went and cheated on me." His response cut through the air, chilling in its icy tone, sending unwelcome shivers down your spine. Whoever he was, his disdain for Jess was palpable. His voice was unmistakable, you having heard it all your life. You knew who it was.

He sauntered off, leaving both Jess and you dumbfounded. Peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the boy, you inadvertently crashed into the very person—Theodore Nott—you were trying to observe.

As you collided with Theodore Nott, his demeanor shifted from the tense confrontation to one of mild surprise, his dark eyes locking with yours in an unexpected encounter. You stumbled back a step, catching your breath as you met his gaze, both of you momentarily stunned by the abrupt intersection.

"Y/N," Theodore uttered your name, a flicker of recognition dancing across his features before settling into a composed mask. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there."

Your mind raced, trying to process the scene you'd just witnessed. His confrontation with Jess seemed far more serious than a typical teenage quarrel. Sensing your curiosity, Theodore's expression shifted a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Listen," he started, his voice lowering to a hushed tone as if sharing a secret. "I need a favor, and I think you might be the perfect solution."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure where this conversation was heading. Theodore hesitated for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"Jess won't leave me alone. She's been causing a scene ever since things ended between us. I need... I need someone to help me out, to pretend to be with me, just to get her off my back. It's purely for appearances, nothing more."

His request hung in the air, unexpected and oddly intriguing. Theodore Nott, asking for your assistance in a situation as serious as this. You weighed his words, contemplating the implications of what he proposed, your mind swirling with questions about why he'd chosen you for such a peculiar task.

"Please. I'll ask nothing more of you. Just some PDA. Slight touches, whatever you're comfortable with."

The allure of being close to him warred with the fear of playing a role in a situation that could easily spin out of control. Yet, despite the inner turmoil, a glimmer of hope danced in your chest—an opportunity to be near Theodore, even if it was only as part of a facade.

You'd been friends with Theo for what felt like forever. He trusted you, and that meant a lot. Sure, there was that fear of being stuck in the friend zone, but when you thought about it, the chance to help him seemed more important. He wanted this, and he was your friend. So, yeah, you wanted to be there for him.

After a moment's hesitation, you gathered your resolve and nodded in agreement, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fury of emotions raging within you. "Alright, Theodore. I'll help you out."

A flicker of relief crossed Theodore's face, a barely perceptible shift in his expression that hinted at gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. I owe you one."

As the weight of your decision settled in, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of what you'd just agreed to. Theodore's proposal was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and the realization that you were about to embark on a fake relationship with someone you genuinely cared for made your heart race with both anticipation and anxiety.

Theodore glanced around, as if to ensure no one else was nearby, before leaning in closer. "Let's meet later today and discuss how we're going to pull this off, alright? Preferably somewhere private."

Nodding in agreement, your mind raced with a million questions, but you managed to offer a reassuring smile. "Sure, Theodore. I'll be there."

As he walked away, you were left standing there, your mind spinning. The whole idea was thrilling, but it also felt like stepping onto a rollercoaster without knowing the twists and turns ahead. For now, all you could do was wait and meet up with Theodore and realise the depths of the situation you just put yourself into.

Either way, this fake dating thing just became your reality, and you had no clue where it would lead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello, hi! read part 2 here :))

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cuteandhughesy · 2 months ago

Text

Cool | Jack Hughes

summary: after your breakup with jack, you thought your EP release party would be dreadful- especially after your single about him is the biggest hit. what happens when you see him at the party and all past feelings come rushing back.

3.8k

a/n: based off this request! hope you enjoy what I’ve done with your idea! also I used sabrina for my little album mock ups, so that’s that 🤍

link to masterlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

when you and jack met, it was anything but glamorous.

working in music was something you'd always wanted to pursue, but the journey of getting into the music industry isn't always easy. sending demo after demo to different record companies was coming up short, and as a last resort, you'd decided to post a video showcasing your talents on tiktok.

it blew up - the cover of one direction's night changes was heard on every video you'd scroll by. people were using your audio as background noise for there own videos, continuing to further your success.

nessa barrett and her team had reached out not longer after your up-roaring success, asking if you'd like to be featured on one of her songs on her upcoming album. nessa had expressed her love for your style of singing and iceralll vibe, and thought you'd be the perfect final piece in her creation. you'd obviously agreed.

the day of recording was an eventful one. not being able to fly out to LA to record, nessa's team arranged a studio session in new jersey where you lived and because they'd put so much effort in for you - you didn't want to disappoint them.

but the recording session wasn't the craziest part of your day - the journey home was. your mom had called you, frantically trying to plan your younger sisters 21st birthday while you exited the recording studio. trying to calm your mother down, insisting that 5 different balloon colours was too many (especially when your sister only liked pink), all while digging through your tote in search of your car keys, left you rather distracted.

you’re rudely brought back to the reality of the busy sidewalks around you, when you walk into something hard. you phone slips out of your hand on impact, falling to the icy ground below. just as that happens, the person you'd inevitably ran into, spills their drink on you - hot chocolate stinging your chest through your white hoodie.

"shit, i'm so sorry." the smooth voice is instantly spewing apologies, and large, slightly calloused hands reach out and hover over your coat covered arms.

finally, you look away from the hot chocolate dripping off you, standing the white snow, and meet the deep blue eyes in front of you. you dance over his soft, round features - following the littering of freckles and moles on his face.

his brows are furrowed in worry, deep gaze trained on you as he attempts to asses you for injuries - darting between the hot chocolate stain and your rosy cheeks.

you shake your head slightly, "no, it's okay. I should've watched where I was going."

"same - my brother and teammates were heckling me about my choice of hot drink - ironically enough, I wasn't looking in your direction. I'm sorry again." he swallows nervously, running a sticky, hot chocolate covered hand through his brown hair.

you notice then, off the the side against one of the brick buildings lining the streets, a small group of guys. they're moving between shooting you both amused looks, and hiding their embarrassed grins behind there hands. you think that must be the brother and teammates in question.

"don't apologize, it was an accident." you sigh gently, forcing a somewhat happy smile on your face. although you're not actually mad at this stranger, it was still an inconvenience and you're glad this happened after your studio session - not before.

you lean down to. collect your cellphone and see that your mom is still on the line. the chances of her still blabbing on about party supplies and not noticing your absence is very high. "I'm y/n."

the ghost of a smile rests upon his lips, "jack - and again, so sorry-"

"yo, hughesy," one of the teammates call, one hand cupped around his mouth to further echo his voice. "we should probably go, coach wants us at the meeting in 15 minutes." he sounds foreign, but if it wasn't for the lingering accent you'd have no idea.

"can I at least get your number? I want to buy you a new sweater." jack insists, already digging out his phone from his black, puffy coat pocket.

you smile, "you really don't need to."

his brow quirks up in a playful manner, and his smirk is almost teasing. "so I can't have your number?"

you giggle gently and start reciting your 7 digit code to jack - the warm, sticky chocolate stain covering your front long forgotten about as you are consumed by the handsome stranger.

like promised, jack had bought you a new white sweater from aritzia - a much more expensive, better quality sweater than your original adidas one.

you and jack had very quickly become close, and started dating only a month after your run in outside the studio. you shared your aspiring music career, and your hopes moving forward in the industry. jack had also told you about his career, and how hockey pretty much took up all his time and energy. but you didn't mind it, because you new your boyfriend was following his hopes and passions - just as you are.

what you weren't expecting was the specific fame that came with jack being in the nhl. in some ways, you weren't shocked that you boyfriend was one of the most sought out nhl player by women, because you knew he was attractive, young and talented - but you were surprised with just how intense these women can be and how you were feeling about it all.

you were pretty good and working through any jealous feelings with jack, and he'd always reassure you that the comments, dms and videos were just stupid talk - rumours.

and you'd always believe him - you loved him and trusted him despite everything and everyone else rooting against you. it wasn't until a year after dating and being in love with jack, that you reached an unseen breaking point - the hurt and jealousy coming to a hill top, teetering on the edge of falling away.

you watch him wordlessly, stewing in your own emotions- a mixture of jealousy and anger very prevalent in your demeanour.

jack scrolls through your dm messages just as quiet as you, his soft brows pulled together tightly to create two deep frown marks. he looks up at you again, because yes, this is the third time he's read though the messages on your phone. "nothing happened, y/n. these messages are just trying to get you," he pauses, waving his hand frantically in your direction, "like this."

you scoff, "so i'm overreacting?"

"no," he huffs, "you're not but I don't understand why you're not believing me."

"jack...multiple people have messaged me and said they saw you and your ex spending time with one another at the bar! some even said you two were dancing together! this isn't just one person, it's 10."

"yeah 10 people who saw my ex and I in the same location and immediately started talking about it to you - trying to convince you that something was going on!"

when jack left for his week long road trip with the devils to the west coast, you'd never would of expected to it end up like this. after a devils win, the boys had gone to one of the local bars to have some greasy food and a beer - let loose for one night, regardless of teaming staff's recommendations. oddly enough, one of jacks ex-girlfriends had moved out to LA to finish her degree, and so happened to be at the same bar as your boyfriend and his teammates.

your instagram dms flooded. multiple people claiming they saw them talking, and dancing. one message even said she caught them kissing off towards the back of the bar.

you just snapped.

it was too much of a coincidence and too many witnesses for you to just 'trust him'.

"don't you trust me?" jack questions, locking your phone and setting it on his kitchen island. the tv from luke's room is louder than it was when you first got to the brothers' apartment - probably trying to block out the argument.

you feel yourself getting emotional. you eyes start to blur with tears, and you blink desperately to try and clear your vision. "I did! I do! it's just," you pause, taking a shaky breath. "this is too much. I can't keep pretending all this attention isn't killing me...I can't keep just hoping it's all rumours. I love you but I can't keep sharing you with the world and feeling like the laughing stock on social media."

"then don't share me!" he stresses, taking a quick step towards you. jack almost reaches out to touch you, but he decides against it, not wanting to push you away any further. "please, just don't believe them...believe me. nothing happened-"

"there's pictures jack." you whisper. tears begin to fall from your glossy coated eyes, falling down your flushed cheeks.

"picture of us just talking, barley talking if anything-"

"yeah but you didn't even tell me- social media did."

jack pauses, his eyes full of a swimming pool of emotions as looks down at you. he doesn't have an excuse, because you're right - he didn't tell you.

even though pictures only captured your boyfriend and his ex talking, nothing more, how could you believe his words and broken promises when he couldn't even be honest about a so called innocent talk.

you sniffle, "I need space."

"okay," he nods, "I can drive you home and then tomorrow we can talk again, okay? we can get breakfast at the cafe you really like and just figure this all out."

"no," you correct, "I need space from us."

"what?"

"I can't do this anymore - the rumours, the comments and the complete disregard for my feelings. I just need to figure it all out...alone."

with your new heartbreak came a whole new lyrical world. you put your uncertainty, jealousy, anger, and sadness onto paper - which birthed your very first single on your small EP.

releasing your song tilted cool immediately had fans speculating your and jack's relationship. the lyrics hide nothing about the rumors circulating around the hockey community, and once you and jack stopped posting together and not spotted with one another - your break-up was confirmed to the world.

your EP, titled sucker, was a collection of four, self-written tracks that perfectly captured the emotions you'd gone through (and still dealing with) in the break-up with jack.

and sucker in its fullness and greatness, was being released tonight. your newly appointed manager through your record company, insisted throwing a release party for you and the already overwhelming successes of your single, cool, and the upcoming EP.

so here you stood, in your frilly pink dress that perfectly matched the colour of one of three vinyl variants - happily greeting friends, musicians, and fans as they pulled into the event hall. the space was covered in astonishing, expensive looking decorations to bring the atmosphere to life. streamers, shiny balloons, multi-coloured lights, and many more beautiful items.

you take a sip out of your fourth champagne flute, trying to keep your excitement alive, while trying to keep your earlier nerves at bay. you wanted your peers and fans to love your art, and you wanted them to feel proud.

you swallow the bitter drink, looking away from the crowded room and over to the large procedure screen against one of the wallpapered walls. half and hour until midnight - thirty minutes until the world would here your most precious emotions. in thirty minutes the judgment would start, and the hate....in thirty minutes there'd be no more secrets.

you sigh gently, looking through the crowd. as per request, everyone was dressed in either pale blue, cream or baby pink, matching each album variant. it makes the whole ordeal feel even more real, and that sends the flutter of butterflies in your stomach loose - your body going numb and warm.

"y/n," a familiar voice calls your name, and instantly your stomach feels funny. you look over towards the source of the greeley voice, and are meet with the tall figure of luke hughes. he's smiling widely, the same smile you'd see when he actually finds something funny or when something brought him joy, and he's wearing the pale peach colour of your record - a nice, button up with appropriate, matching bottoms.

you force yourself to smile back, pushing away any prior emotion and worry. "luke, hey." the tallest hughes brother embraces you in a friendly way, congratulating you on the success of your career.

you separate, and instantly, your smile falters. behind his brother, stands jack. he looks just as uncertain as you feel, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and hope. his tanned, calloused hands are shoved into his dress pants awkwardly, bunching up the hem of his baby blue shirt. the colour brings out his eyes, making the usual ocean blue look brighter.

he clears his throat, "hey, congratulations."

you're almost in shock, and you can't look away from the man infront of you. before you realize, luke has slipped away from you both, your once buffer now nosying around the food table - shoving cheese and crackers into his mouth.

you blink. "jack, what are you doing here?" you're not angry, and you certainly don't sound it. your tone is very soft, bordering on emotional- your overwhelming internal energy now presenting on the outside.

"I always said I'd show my support for you - no matter the circumstances. I'm so proud of you, y/n."

you say his name again, an almost warning tone lacing your words. you can't do this with him, especially tonight on top of all the other thousands thoughts running through your mind. "thank you for the support, jack but i'm not sure what you want me to do here."

his brows furrow, "I don't want you to do anything except celebrate yourself, but I do think we need to talk-"

your manager comes skipping over, guiding you away from your ex-boyfriend as she explains what you'll be doing next. with the music releasing in the next few minutes, she's asking for you to make a brief speech about the night and the upcoming EP.

you shoot jack an unapologetic look over your shoulder, rounding into the grand living space of the rented extravagant house.

jack follows slowly behind, and just as you're walking onto the stage, right infront of the countdown display, he settles near the back of the room, watching you with a guilty expression. he shouldn't of said anything to you, especially on your special night - especially when he can see how overwhelmed you are.

you tap gently on the microphone, checking the sound. the echoing noise grabs the busy crowds attention, the once chatty laughter coming to a slow halt. you smile warmly, "hi, everyone."

people smile and clap excitedly, some people even cheering at your greeting. your smile doesn't falter, and neither do your nervous butterflies. your wrong your hands out nervously, a typical nervous habit you've always done. "thank you all so much for coming out here and showing your love and support for me and my career. I'm so overwhelmed with joy at the thought of my small piece of art being heard by all of you and I can only hope that you'll love and enjoy the three new songs as much as cool."

through the bright lights, familiar and unfamiliar faces, your gaze finds jack. the sight of him as your nerves changing, and somehow you feel yourself become calm under his gaze. you clear your throat, "with less than three minutes to go, as just want to say that all these songs are so personal and raw with emotion and I just want to remind anybody who can relate to these lyrics and music that it's okay to feel overwhelmed, or angry, or jealous, even when you know there's no reason to feel that way."

once again, you find jack at the back of the room. his face hasn't changed, and you can't quite read the expression he's showing. without looking away from him, you continue. "finally, I want to thank you for believing in me and always supporting me. from tiktok, to my first feature and single - now my EP. thank you for everything, I love you."

you blink, finally tearing your gaze away. "all of you! get ready, because these are the emotional, up and downs of sucker!"

the crowd roars in excitement, counting down the last minute before the tracks will be shared. you slip off the stage, forcing smiles to the crowd as you slip through bodies and crowds of people, trying to get out of the bustling, loud and overwhelming room.

everyone is unaware of your motives, and because everyone is gathered in the same room, it makes your space easier. your shoes echo in the empty hallway, heels clicking up the grand staircase as you ascend upstairs.

you find an empty, unlocked room and slip inside quickly. it's a cleaning closet, and now you can understand why there's no lock on the door. it smells strongly of lysol and clorox, but the strong smells provides a nice distraction from your frantic breathing.

you move further into the room, pressing your back to one of the cool, metal shelving units. it was all feeling like too much - the party, the EP releasing, seeing jack....you can feel your stomach turn just at the back and forth motion from the thoughts in your brain. you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

suddenly, the sound of your opening track gets louder, turning from muffled vibrations into full, coherent sounds. your eyes snap open, just as jack enters the room with you.

your chest tightens warmly, and the heartbroken girlfriend in you desperately wants to reach out and let jack pull you into his embrace- providing his usual calming comfort.

jack shuts the door behind himself, letting the silence once again consume the small cleaning closet. his cheeks look rosy in the dim light, and his hair is pushed back like he's been running his hand through it over and over.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, taking a step closer to you.

“no, jack,” you huff through disbelieved laughter. “i'm so confused and overwhelmed and I don't know why you're actually here. do you want an apology from me? is that why you want to talk?”

“no,” he replies, “I want to talk because I was wrong.”

your brows furrow and your confusion is evident. “what do you mean?”

jack takes another step towards you, “I shouldn't have lied to you and I immediately should've told you that I saw my ex and had a brief conversation with her - even though that was the extent of it. I made myself look guilty and because of that, I made you feel like you couldn't trust me.”

he continues, eyes swimming with emotions as he keeps his gaze locked on you. “all your feelings about what happened are absolutely valid and i'm sorry for being the cause of your pain. that song, cool - I know it's about me and when I heard it, it solidified how badly I screwed up.”

you frown uncertainly. “why now? why are you saying all this now?”

“because the guilt of it all is eating me alive. I couldn't go an hour longer with you thinking that I would ever cheat on you. even though I talked to my ex for only that minute in LA, I shouldn't have been so sketchy about the situation. I should've reassured you, and listened to your concerns and I should've told you as soon as it happened - end of story.”

he pauses, asserting your face of emotions. jack sees the way your eyes have glossed over, but your shoulders are still broad - indicating that you’re upset, but not uncomfortable. you’re still here, listening to his apology. with that, he continues. “you don't need to forgive me, and you don't even need to say anything, but I just wanted you to know that i'm sorry for how I handled the situation that I very easily could've fixed. I love you….so much and i'm so proud of you and I don’t want you to think anything but that.”

you blink and look away from him, sniffling away any lingering emotion. hearing jacks apology has solidified so much for you and the situation a few weeks prior. the second track on your EP is vibrating through the floor, the bass lined chorus tickling the soles of your feet through your heels. softly, you set your gaze back on jack - who’s soft, guilty expression hasn’t changed.

“I agree, you should’ve mentioned the situation with your ex before I found out through social media, and you telling me that you recognize how that made me feel and how it made you look, has me feeling so much relief.” you take a shaky inhale, “your apology means so much to me because I love you and I should’ve truly expressed how I was feeling about everything, instead of arguing, deflecting and shutting down. I trust you and I always have but I was feeling angry, and jealous about the slinky feeling of it all.”

“you still love me?” he breathes shakily, a ghost of a smile beginning to pull at his mouth.

you nod, your own bright smile gracing your face - shining through the dim, bleach scented closet. “I love you.”

jack releases a visible sigh of relief, and he closes the gap between you in favour of gently taking whole of your warm face, softly caressing your plump cheeks affectionately. you smile as jacks thumb subconsciously runs under your lash line, collecting any tears before they can fall and ruin your makeup - something you’d complained about often.

“I love you.” jack repeats, his words a breathless whisper as he leans down. his nose nudges yours once affectionately, before slotting next to yours comfortably. then, thankfully, jack presses his lips to yours in a much missed kiss.

you don’t regret the raw, jealous and angry emotions you’d put into your new EP - all those emotions being directed at jack and the miscommunicated situation. you’re proud and excited to help others going through the same heartbreak as you did.

and with jack here now, kissing you like he’s done a thousand times, you’re looking forward to the blissing relationship to return, as well as the amazing career ahead of both of you.

you can’t wait for the love songs you’ll create - all because of jack.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n okay I hope this was okay! I didn’t edit it because i’m a lil lazy (whoops) but the idea was fun and cute! also when I was writing I didn’t want to be too on the nose with the song or lyrics of cool, so I did the best I could:) also I added visual links for the colour and outfits of the reader, luke and jack!

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl #nhl hockey #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils imagine

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amorchai · 11 months ago

Note

📁 ₊˚⊹ "i'm gonna teach you how to kiss" with jj maybank !! pls i know you would write him so well !

𝐉𝐉 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader

words: 781

warnings/tags: pet names, mentions of embarrassment, r being inexperienced when it comes to kissing, + jj being jj, this isn’t based off season three, i haven’t watched it yet so cleo hasn’t been placed as a main in this.

a/n: jj was so suited for this one you know him too well omg.

“y/n, what was your first great kiss?” john b had asked. it had been a question going around the group, each answering their own story of them getting past the awkward kissing stage and experiencing their first good kiss.

you had dreaded it coming to you, staying quiet in hope they forget, but your heart falls to your stomach when john b asks. everyone is now looking, jj with an amused, waiting look while sarah looks completely intrigued to see what your answer is.

“uh…” you trail off, not wanting to lie but also unable to think of one at the same time. “oh, come on, you have been kissed before, right?” asks kiara, her expression dropping at the end in realisation that maybe you haven’t.

“yeah. just never knew what i was doing, i guess.”

jj sits up, mouth slightly agape, “you’ve never had a great kiss? never enjoyed one before?” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment, trying to hide your shy expression at the sudden interrogation.

“it’s okay, that’s nothing to be ashamed of…” sarah trails off, interrupting jj’s shocked gaze, “no it’s not that, it’s just- it’s y/n.” the rest of the group laugh at him, knowing jj for one to constantly talk about you.

it quickly moves onto another topic, kiara noticing your embarrassed state of fidgeting hands and restless legs and it wasn’t brought up again until the stars were out.

pope was asleep on one side of the bonfire while you watched, feeling the warmth and listening to the rest of the group laughing and shouting by the water. and your content state starts to smile knowingly when you see jj jogging back towards you.

“hey, bored?” jj asks, sitting down next to you, his bare shoulder bumping yours and you shiver. “no, i’m good. you know pope would freak out if he wakes up and none of us is there.”

jj laughs at this, lounging against the tree stump behind and looking at you longingly. you could feel it, tearing your eyes slowly away from the orange flames and to jj’s blue gaze.

he’s looking all across your features, every inch until landing to your lips as they part with a long breathe, “you’ve really never had a good kiss before?”. you’re both quiet, whispers catching due to the close proximity, jj leaning further towards you.

“i told you, j. i don’t really know how it works still,” you say honestly because if jj kisses you right now he would be disappointed by the inexperience. but jj doesn’t waver, in fact his hand reaches up to dance his fingers delicately across your cheek while leaning further in.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask alarmed, jj mimicking your expression while assuring you, “i’m gonna teach you how to kiss.” he says it as if it’s simple, as if it’s a normal part of being friends.

you know the moment his lips touch yours, your feelings for him would only grow stronger which is a dangerous game. but seeing him so close and feeling his breath against your lips pull you in.

“okay?” jj asks, pausing, eyebrows raising and you nod, “okay.”

his smile is wide, scanning your lips before moving his grip to your chin, angling it so your lips line to his before whispering his last lines, “just follow what i do, you’ll get it in no time, honey.”

before you could properly process, jj’s lips are against yours and your eyes close immediately. there’s an internal panic, wondering what to do as jj moves his lips slowly against yours, but jj smiles while both his hands firmly hold my face.

“just move your lips with mine,” he murmurs against your lips, and the internal panic seizes into nothing, your thoughts pulled from your head until all you can focus on is jj.

he moves more desperately when you kiss back, the feeling unlike anything else as he moves further towards you. “that’s it, baby,” jj says against your mouth, unwilling to pull away just yet and you only kiss back, so wrapped up.

you could get used to this, very easily. only if it was jj’s lips, and by the way he’s holding you and kissing you makes you believe he felt the same. you would find out later, hesitant to pull away as his nose nudges yours while he moves his head.

“could you do that inside, please?” you both pull away at the voice, pope glaring at you both tiredly before his head lobs down to go back to sleep and jj kisses your cheek before reaching for your hand, “he makes a good point.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist

#➵ amorchai works ౨ৎ #outer banks ⁑ ꒰ა jj maybank ໒꒱#jj maybank #outer banks #obx x reader #obx #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff

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scarletlizzard · 11 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Sessions Series

Paring: stalker Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: stalking, mentions of a knife, smut, smidge of somnophilia, fingering, strap on use (R Receiving), surprisingly fluff. This type of relationship is super toxic, okay!!

Masterlist

A/N: Thank y'all so so much for reading this series. Truly has been so nice seeing everyones comments and reblogs (the tags kill me every time)! This was my first series and hopefully there will be more, I really enjoy writing and am happy to share with you kind people. Let me know if you have any questions, would love to know what you think!! Thanks 💚💚

New Years Eve 2018

Your senses were heightened as you became aware of a set of eyes on you. Her gaze fixated on you from across the room, behind the crowd of people that swarmed around you. You watch with a familiar spark in your chest, a sense of safety that your shadow was watching over you.

"They're about to start the countdown, I'm going to find Maria!" Natasha yells closely to your ear, breaking the eye contact you held with Wanda.

You give her a small smile and nod, "Alright, find me after!" Before kissing her cheek and giving her a short hug. You watch your best friend push through the crowd until you can no longer see her red head, and your eyes travel back to your shadow. Panic settles in when you realize she's nowhere to be found.

Around you people begin pairing off, touch hungry ones scanning the crowd for a last chance at a kiss before the New Year. A touch on your shoulder makes you smile and turn around, but instead of seeing your Wanda, you see a drunk man attempting to balance himself in front of you.

"Hi sweetie," he slurs, resting his hand on your shoulder. The '2019' glasses he wore took up most of his face, a drink in his other hand sloshed onto your shoes.

"I'm sorry, I'm looking for someone..." You groan and try to push his hand off of your shoulder. To your suprise, he keeps it there.

"I'm somebody, you found me!" His words slur together as he presses closer.

"Seriously? Get off!" You raise your voice and put your hands on his broad chest, pushing him back. It's only a second later that you feel a body pressed against you from behind, the intoxicating scent wrapping around you.

"Hey man, I'd back off." Wandas husky voice sounds from behind you, but she moves to step in front of you as the man steps forward again.

He laughs and holds up his drink towards her, "We're just having fun, you wanna join in?" He slurs again, and Wanda makes a face of disgust.

"Just go away before we do something we'll both regret," she threatens. It's then you notice her hand is behind her back, settled on what you know is a blade hidden underneath her jacket.

Instinctively you reach out, resting your hand on top of hers. You watch as her shoulders drop and her grip on the handle softens. A blush creeps up your neck as you once again realize the affect you had on her.

Who, really, was the mouse?

"Fine, fine, you two are no fun," the man mumbles with a shrug, leaving the two of you in the crowd.

Before Wanda can turn around, you wrap your arms around her stomach, hugging her from behind. You feel soft vibrations from her back as she chuckles, turning in your arms.

"Okay, little mouse?" She asks softly, her demeanor changed in an instant as her green eyes meet yours. You nod and slide your hands up to her shoulders.

"I was hoping you would show up," you bite back a smirk as she leans in. The crowd begins counting down, signaling the seconds to midnight.

10... 9... 8...

"I'm always there, you know that," Wanda rasps in your ear, placing a soft kiss just below.

7... 6... 5...

The thought doesn't bother you, of her always being there watching. Waiting. Instead of dread, you felt comfort. You knew she would always be there. One hand cups her face as she continues to leave soft kisses across your jaw.

You would take any bad, as long as you had this good. As long as you had Wanda.

4... 3... 2... 1...

As cheers errupt around you, shouting, "Happy New Year!" You waste no time pressing your lips to hers, your fingers tangling into her soft brown hair. Wanda holds you tightly against her as she slips her tongue into your parted mouth. You savor the flavor of mint on her tongue, biting down softly on her bottom lip. She groans into the kiss, and you can't help but smile.

"You're going to be the death of me, little mouse..." she sighs onto your lips, and you nod.

"You love it..." You giggle, causing her to laugh. She pulls back with an unfamiliar look in her eyes, lips parted like she wants to say something. You wait, but only watch as they pull into a crooked grin before kissing you again.

***

January 2019

Wanda peers through the darkness into the windows of your house, her figure disconcernable against the shadows.

You walk around, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, knowing someone is watching your every move. Despite the comforting warmth in the room, a shiver runs down your spine, knowing your shadow was just outside.

But instead of fear, instead of unease, you simply walk to the front of the house and stare out the window.

Wanda remains concealed, her presence a silent observer in the stillness of the night. She looks with curious eyes before realizing what you were doing, and a smirk forms on her face.

Your hands move to the locks, opening them up with a 'click'. As you stare off into the shadows, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, the feeling of leaving the windows unlocked. You have to lock and unlock it three more times before you're comfortable.

"Little mouse.." A whisper in the dark, a body next to yours as you stir in your sleep.

You could've sworn it was a dream as her hand traveled down your body, cupping your clothed pussy. She ran small circles over your clit, the clothing between become wetter. You felt your skin burn under the covers, aching for her as she teases you. Then her hand slides inside of your pants, rubbing against your now sensitive clit.

You awake with a start and attempt to sit up, but her other hand immediately covers your mouth and presses you back onto the pillow. Your hands fly up to her wrist that held a hand over your mouth, your breathing ragged as you attempted to figure out what was going on.

"It's okay, pretty girl. Just let me take care of you.." Wanda whispers, slipping her fingers inside of you. Her body presses further against you as she moves her wrist, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a quicker pace. Your moans muffle from her hand on your mouth.

"Such a good little mouse.." She praises, trapping your moans into the palm of her hand. "You were just begging for me to sneak in, needed me to come fuck you huh?" Her tone is condescending, but you only groan in response as her lips attach to your neck.

"That's it, just like that," Wanda chuckles darkly as you squeeze her fingers tightly, her thumb moving circles on your clit. "Now I want you to be a good girl and cum on my fingers, okay?"

As she sucks the skin on your collarbone, you follow as she commands, coming on her fingers and biting down harshly on her hand. Wanda moans at the feeling and the way you fall apart for her. You knew by the sound of her belt unbuckling that it would only be the first of the night.

***

February 2019

"So you and Wanda, huh?" Natasha laughs, shaking her head. "Was the therapy that good?"

Your face turns a dark shade of red as you think back on your sessions, the dark road it led you down. You shrug and take a sip of coffee, "I suppose it was..."

There was no way you could tell Natasha everything. You wouldn't. The Cat and Mouse game you and Wanda played was special, just for the two of you. But there was no way you could hide your feelings for her anymore, or the marks she left on your body, from your best friend.

"You're happy?"

"For the first time in a long time," you answer honestly. Through the whirlwind of emotions Wanda caused you, you knew you were.

"Taking your medication again?" Natasha raises an eyebrow as you tap the side of your cup 4 times absemindetly.

"It'll never go away..." You refer to your compulsion, "But I'm learning to cope with it."

"Good! Now, when are we going to go on a double date?" She smiles widely at you.

A date... you couldn't imagine Wanda taking you on a date. Maybe you could sit at a nice restaurant and she would watch from across the street. Maybe four rows away from you as you sit in a movie theater. Would it always be this way? Always about the chase?

"Hopefully soon," is all you say, a small smile planted on your lips.

***

May 2019

The microwave beeps from across the kitchen, and you set your glass of wine down before walking over and pulling out a bag of freshly popped popcorn.

Wanda watches hidden in the shadows as you grab a second glass, filling it up and topping off your own. She raises an eyebrow at the sight. Jealousy seeps in through all the cracks of her chest. She knew for a fact that Natasha was with her girlfriend tonight, and you never had anyone else over, especially this late at night.

Two glasses of wine sit on the counter along with a bowl of popcorn as you grab your phone. Her heart races as she sees the smile spread across your lips as you stare at the small screen.

A vibrate from her pocket distracts her from you.

Wanda takes her phone out to check the text, shaking her head with a sigh. She laughs at the message with the ridiculous nickname. It was only fair, she supposed.

You - Want to watch a movie, kitty?

She looks up from the screen to see you standing by the window, waving at her. Wanda tucks her phone back in her jeans and walks towards your house, where she finds the front door unlocked.

"Do you ever get tired of watching?" You ask curiously. Wanda now sat next to you on the couch, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. New and uncharted territory, the most normal interaction the two of you had privately. It felt so natural. You longed for this.

"No," she answers sternly, reaching into the bowl you held and tossing some popcorn into her mouth.

In the months Wanda had revealed herself as your shadow the two of you became closer, but she still felt out of reach. You noticed during sex that she would never let you touch her, and you craved to reach out and caress her. You didn't know why, and any time you tried to ask her, she would shut it down and become distant. Wanda still watched, too, every night. Any time she wasn't in the room with you, you could feel her eyes on you. By now, you didn't mind it, but you were starting to want... more.

"What if you... didn't have to go far to watch me?" You ask casually, keeping your eyes on the movie that played in front of you.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks, and by the tone of voice, you could tell she knew what you meant. She wanted to hear you say it.

You lean forward to set down the bowl on the coffee table and move to situate yourself to sit on her lap. Your legs straddled her thighs, and your hands rested on her shoulders. You let the nail on your finger scratch up and down the side of her neck softly.

"Baby.." You whisper to her, feeling her strong hands grip your waist. For some reason, Wanda loved when you called her that, and you saved it for times like this.

You grab her jaw in your hand, tilting it to the side so you had full access to her neck. Your lips descend upon the soft skin, tongue licking a stripe to her pulse point. Wanda shifts beneath you, fingers fidgeting against your hips as you begin to bite down and suck.

"Is that what you want then, little mouse? Did you fully think about what that means?" Her voice is laced with lust as you trail down and leave another mark. "It means you'll never be alone, you won't sleep alone. It means I can use you whenever I please..." Wandas hands travel underneath your shirt, exploring your back.

"I know.." You mumble against her skin, your hips rolling slightly down against her to find she was definitely packing.

"It means you'll belong to me. You'll be mine, completely," Wanda growls as you leave another mark, her senses failing her as you continue to grind against her.

But you stop suddenly and remove your lips from her neck, your hands on either side of her face.

"I always was, baby. I am... completely," you whisper and look into her eyes, finding that same look she gave you on New Years Eve.

Wanda kisses you passionately, slipping her tongue into your mouth the second she can. Her hands travel your body before she's pulling your shirt over your head, you do the same for her.

"I need you so fucking bad," you groan against her lips, the ache between your legs growing as you throb around nothing. Wanda nods and hums in response, lifting you up and laying your back on the couch.

She slides her hand into your panties, feeling just how badly you needed her. "All mine, huh?" Wanda chuckles as her fingers pump inside of you.

"Completely," you moan out as she begins kissing your chest. You reach around her to undo her bra, sliding it away so you can feel her breasts pressed against you.

Wanda marks your skin as hers, fingering you until you're falling apart underneath her. You watch with wide eyes as she takes her fingers out of you and puts them into her own mouth, sucking your juices off of them.

"Mmm, you taste so good, pretty girl.." Wanda gushes and then chuckles as a whimper leaves your mouth. She then leans down and kisses you in a quick and sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. She parts to unzip her jeans, sliding them off of her before lining her strap up between your legs.

Wanda slides in, filling you up completely with her faux cock. The position, the closeness, this was all so new. Usually you were bound or on your stomach. This was different. It was so much more intimate. She moves her hips slowly against yours, a low moan escaping her throat.

"So good, detka.. always so fucking good," she groans and lets out a few Sokovian curses as she thrusts harder into you. Her arms rest on either side of you, holding her weight above you. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her.

She tenses and begins to pull back, but your legs wrap around her hips tightly to pull her closer into you. You both moan at the feeling of closeness, her being deeper than ever in you, and Wanda finds herself lost in you. She lets your hands roam the skin on her back as she fucks you.

"Baby - feels so good!" You cry out in her ear, the weight of her body pressed down onto you as she grunts against your neck. Your nails scratch down her back, causing a guttural moan to escape her lips. You throb around the plastic cock at the sound of it, wanting her as close as possible.

"I know, I know... so good... Christ," she praises you and moans in agreement, pace picking up. You can feel the muscles in her back flex as she pounds into you. The way she's moaning into your skin, you can tell she's close.

She fills you completely with every thrust, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars over and over again. Your fingers feel every inch of skin she'll let you touch, from the few moles that spread along the top below her shoulders to her back dimples on the bottom. You let your nails mark into her skin again, and Wanda feels on cloud 9. Pure bliss.

"Fuck, pretty girl I'm gonna cum," Wanda moans in your ear and picks her head up to look in your eyes, finding only pleasure written on your face. You nod at her words and hold onto her back, your legs still gripping tightly around her hips to bring her desperately closer to you.

"Me too, baby, I-I'm so close!" You gasp, feeling her lips on yours.

"Fuck, fuck! Always.. so good, fuck, I love you so much.. oh God," Wanda moans into your mouth as she thrusts into you, fucking you hard into the couch. You don't have time to register what she says before the tight coil that had built up inside you releases. A wave of pleasure crashing over you.

The two of you come at the same time, the sounds of your moans and Wanda chanting your name as she slaps her hips into yours. Wanda slows to a stop once she's sure she's taken everything she can from you.

Your chest moves rapidly as you look up at her, her jaw tense as she lets out one last groan. The muscles in her back tense up as your fingers trace small circles on her skin, and she begins to move away.

"Stay... don't move, please?" You whisper, pleading with her. Wanda sighs and gives in, too tired to move. Your heart races as you replay her words over and over again in your mind.

You bring your other hand up, stroking her brown strands of hair that splayed across the two of you and closed your eyes. Wandas arms wrap tightly underneath you as she rests her head in the crook of your neck.

She had never let you hold her like this before, touch her like this. You knew what she said was true. Her words were not just words spoken lightly. Maybe she hadn't meant to say it then, but you knew she loved you. You knew she would never let you go, even if you didn't love her back.

But you did. With all of your mind, body, and soul. Everything that you were, are, and will be.

More than you loved the special bottle of red that sat on the counter, more than the feeling of a paintbrush in your hand, more than I Love Lucy, more than counting to four.

Wandas breathing slows against your neck, her body fully relaxed as you caress her. You had never seen or felt her so at ease before.

"I love you..." You whisper as you hear soft snores fall from her lips.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep after, the sounds of her quiet snores and slow breathing along with the comforting weight of her body on top of yours, lull you to sleep.

Dreaming, hoping, there was a way Wanda would give in to you.

To let the game fade away.

But when you awake in the morning, you're alone on the couch. A blanket covers your naked body, hopes and dreams fading away into reality.

Wanda was gone, and the worst part was you knew she would be back, out of reach again.

You give yourself a moment on the couch, only a moment to cry, before wiping your tears and shaking the sounds of her soft snores out of your mind. The way her body melted into yours as your hearts beat insync, the way she kissed you lovingly, the words "I love you" slipping from her lips in a desperate, intimate moment. It was all a game, after all.

The wine glasses and popcorn bowl were missing from the coffee table. Curious, you wrap the blanket around your body and walk to the kitchen. The dishes were clean and sitting on the drying rack. It was then you saw on the counter a glass of water and a bottle of your medication along with a paper and pen. You slowly pick up the paper, an old receipt you had lying around, and read the note:

I'll be back later with some boxes. Don't forget to take your medicine.

The curved letters tug at your heartstrings, the next lines causing another spark to ignite in your chest.

I love you

If the game was still afoot, Wanda was winning, because you were utterly and irrevocably hers.

***

October 2019

In the sunlit room, you stood in front of a canvas, wooden brush in hand. Each stroke, movements precise and deliberate, guided by a vision taking form in your mind. You inhale the scent of oil paint as you take some more on your brush before leaning in, adding intricate detail to breathe life into your creation. Time seems to stop as you lose yourself to the creative side of your brain.

You don't hear the creak of the door opening, or feel Wandas gaze on you as she stands in the doorway, admiring you.

The large button down you wore loosely was covered in paint, a work of art in itself from all the leftover paint of paintings you had done. You hummed along to the music, playing softly behind you, tongue between your teeth and brows scrunched together as you concentrated on the small details.

Wanda can't help the crooked smile on her face as she takes in the sight of you in your element. Her heart pounding out of her chest as you brush a piece of fallen hair out of your face. She walks closer, setting her hands on your waist.

You gasp at her touch, the feeling of her nose tickles your ear as she kisses your neck.

"Baby.. you scared me," you giggle and rest a hand on top of hers, leaning back against her.

There it was again, that feeling Wanda would never get used to. The feeling that wanted to drop her to her knees right there and whisper devotions between your legs, something she did more often since you had moved in with her.

"I got tired of watching," Wanda jokes, a rumble in her chest as she laughs. You turn yourself in her arms, resting your hands on her chest.

"I don't mind you watching... but I prefer you touching," you whisper the last part sinfully, the word darkening Wandas emerald eyes. She picks you up easily, you squeal with excitement, and wrap your legs around her waist.

And there on the floor, in the room Wanda had transformed into your art studio, she whispered those devotions against your skin and between your legs.

You lay on the cloth tarp that covered the floor underneath your canvas, drawing patterns on the skin of Wandas stomach. You turn in her arm to look at her.

A jaw sculpted by God, green eyes blessed by the angels, and a smile gifted from the Devil.

The sun shines on her face, highlighting smudges of green paint on her cheek. You giggle and let your fingers travel to the colored paint stripes spread across her body, a handprint on her shoulder.

"You're my favorite work of art," you murmur to her, feeling her thumb brush the paint on your hips. She smiles, your favorite crooked smile.

"Little mouse?" Wanda asks, her voice low and calm as she stares into your eyes.

"Yes, baby?"

"Marry me.."

And it's not a question, it's a statement. A declaration. You didn't need a moment to think, because you already knew you were hers, forever.

"Yes," you say anyways, nodding your head. Wandas' smile widens, and she lifts you on top of her, kissing you the best she could without letting her smile go.

***

Christmas Day 2021

The snow crunches under Wandas' boots as she watches you walk from the kitchen to the living room, a towel on your shoulder. Your hands fumbled with something unseen, hidden from her view. Your brows furrowed in concentration, and you shook your head, mumbling something to yourself.

And then you looked up and saw her. The widest smile overcame your face. You radiated pure joy.

Wandas' heart sped up at the sight of you as she carried wood and walked towards the front door.

"Reminiscing, kitty?" You purr as you greet her at the door with a kiss and a hug, she hums against your lips.

"You don't miss it, little mouse?" Wanda chuckles and kisses your jaw, the wood dropping to the floor.

"Not when I have all this..." You sigh happily as she kisses down your neck, her hands moving under your shirt.

A cry from the other room interrupts the moment.

"Mm, those boys always know when to start, don't they?" She mumbles, "I knew when I heard twins, they would be trouble."

Wanda hears a radiant laugh escape your lips, and she gives you a crooked smile in return. You cup her face in your hands, the ring on your fourth finger on the left hand is cool against her cheek.

"I loved you then, and I love you even more now, Wanda.." you whisper, breath fanning against her face.

"I love you even more, little mouse.." she says softly, giving you one last kiss before walking into the living room, your hand in hers.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen #dark wanda x reader

700 notes · View notes

lockburn-castle · 5 months ago

Text

love and a little motivation

synopsis in which yn needs just a little more motivation pairing nonidol!jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre university au, fluff, comfort, wonwoo being wonwoo and giving reader the support they need warnings terms of endearment, talks about uni and grades (a little about law), jokes about dropping out, let me know if theres anything i missed word count 0.5k

notes: i started uni a month ago and honestly, commercial law has been kicking my ass lately so here's something i wrote about it HAHAHA i hope yall enjoy ! ꨄ

“Won, can we go home already?” you begged your boyfriend, leaning against his shoulder.

“No, yn. Hurry up and finish your work, then we’ll go home,” Wonwoo said, deadpanning as he continued to focus on his computer screen.

“But I can't concentrate anymore. The words are getting foggy and starting to swirl around,” you exaggerated, trying to appeal to his sympathy.

“Yn, you know that when we get home, you won’t touch your work. You’ve been doing so well this semester. Just a few more weeks, and we’ll be free, love,” he said, finally looking up at you with a reassuring smile.

Your grades had been steady throughout the semester, but with finals approaching, your motivation was slipping. To help keep you on track, Wonwoo had been bringing you to the library every day. He knew how much you dreaded studying, but he also knew that the thought of a bad grade was even worse.

“Wonwoo, how about I finish this worksheet and then we go home?” you tried to negotiate, but Wonwoo wasn’t budging.

“No, yn. Complete all the work your professors assigned, especially the one Mr. Kim gave you,” he insisted. He knew commercial law was your weakest subject — a class he was also taking, though he excelled in it.

“You know what? How about I drop out and start working part-time until you graduate and get your dream job? Then you can take care of me?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Wonwoo looked at you and smiled. “I’d agree to that, but your parents wouldn’t be pleased, would they?” he teased. “Come on, you’ve rested enough. Finish up your work, and we can go.”

You pouted and turned back to your computer screen, your law textbook open to dense paragraphs about contract laws and the necessity of offer acceptance - something you seriously didn't understand.

Seeing you struggle, Wonwoo finally caved. “Okay, how about if you finish up your work, I’ll cook your favorite meal and run you a bath with your favorite bath bomb?”

At the promise of that reward, you looked at him with renewed energy. “Deal!” you quickly agreed, diving back into your work. There were still a few questions where you needed Wonwoo’s help, but at least you got everything done.

“Babe, I'm finally done!” you exclaimed a bit too loudly, drawing a few curious stares. You didn’t care in the slightest.

“Really?” Wonwoo asked, reviewing your work with a thorough glance. He looked up, impressed. “I’m proud of you, yn,” he said warmly.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” you said with a smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go home, have dinner, and relax. You’ve earned it,” he said, standing up and packing away his things.

As you gathered your things, you turned to Wonwoo with a grin. “I can’t wait for your famous bibimbap. Could you make some naengmyeon too?” you asked hopefully.

“Sure, anything for you, love,” he replied, taking your hand as you both walked out of the library together, looking forward to a delicious meal and a relaxing evening.

#kpop fanfic #seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt x reader #wonwoo fics

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shadowandlightt · 11 months ago

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories | eight | Azirel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

A/N: I'm very nervous about this part and the ones coming after it. I hope you still enjoy it, even though it's probably what you're expecting.

When the darkness faded, all you could see was the Moonstone Palace that you’d spent so much time in as a child. You could finally fill my lungs with air, a sweet jasmine scent floating in it. Feyre was gently laid on a couch in the center of the great room. Mor, who didn’t seem to know what to do, ran forward and wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you so tightly the newly fresh air was knocked from your lungs.

“You were dead,” She cried, “We mourned you. For years we mourned.”

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, “I tried, for years I tried.”

But then you gave up. And you accepted your fate in the Spring Court. You didn’t fight hard enough when Amerantha still had control. Or in the days following her fall. You could have made it, surely you could have. You thought you could winnow short distances at that point, though you hadn’t tested it. You should have been able to jump from place to place until you made it to the border of the Night Court. Until you made it to safety. But you didn’t. You threw up in the rose and gave up.

You gave up on them.

Dread filled you. Because how could you explain everything that happened to you? How could you explain that you’d given up on ever seeing any of them again, and that your only thought had been of death. Because then, maybe the Mother would grant you access to your own mother. Maybe she would allow you to look after Rhys and the others from whatever world exists beyond your own.

Guilt swirled in with the dread. How could you tell your brother that you’d been praying for death for hundreds of years? How could you tell him that your mother didn’t beg for herself that day, or her wings, she begged for you. Begged for them to spare you and send you on your way. Begged as they started to cut into your back, leaving behind two long and ugly scars.

How could you explain any of it?

“How are you alive?” Rhys questioned, pain lingering in his eyes.

“Tamlin begged for my life that day,” You reply, feeling an icy cold settle over you.

You hadn’t spoken of it. Hadn’t voiced what happened that day. Saying it now makes it all too real. Before you could imagine that your mother was still alive, flying around Valaris, but now….now saying it aloud you knew she was gone. You could feel it deep in your bones.

“He begged his father and brother, said it would be better to keep me as a bargaining chip,” You explain, “He ended up just keeping me as a toy, after everything happened.”

Then a thought accrued to you. Tamlin was so desperate to get Rhys to release Feyre from their bond, he said he would do anything. Perhaps he would have let you go…perhaps he would’ve finally used you as a bargaining chip against your brother.

“He probably would’ve offered me on a silver platter for you to release Feyre,” You laugh.

“All these years, you’ve been right there?” Rhys asked, voice cracking.

It's been years since you’d seen him cry. The stone exterior was crumbling, leaving behind a broken boy who lost his mother and sister in the same day, only to have one returned to him. You want to move to comfort him, but you’re locked in where you stand. As if there is a spell over you, keeping you from moving.

You’re afraid to move, truly. Because if you move you might wake up and find that this is all a dream. A beautiful and cruel dream. So you stay put as the tears fall from both yours and Rhys’ eyes.

“All this time,” You reply, “I’ve been locked away in the Manor House. I was there that night that you and father came, and I was there when you first met Feyre, and every moment after that.”

“Calanmai,” he says suddenly, “You were there that night. Gods above, you spoke to me.”

The tears are falling harder now. Unstoppable against the emotions you both feel. Mor is still standing close to you, you could almost lean against her for support. But she’s somehow also giving you and Rhys your space to work this out.

“I was praying to the Gods and to the Mother and to the Cauldron that you would be able to see beyond the glamor and see me,” You verify, “That’s why I said I was like the wind, I hoped you would hear it and realize.”

His head shook, “I couldn’t allow myself to believe. I heard you, Mother I heard you, but I couldn’t believe it. You didn’t smell like you.”

“Scents change, besides, I was wrapped in Lucien’s clothing to disguise my scent,” You explain, “I expect I smelled like Lucien for a long time. He was the only constant visitor I had for years.”

“Y/N-” His voice broke as he surged forward to wrap you in his arms, “My sweet baby sister. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. If anyone should feel guilty about all of this, it should be you. You should have fought harder that day. Even at such a young age, you could have misted all of them if you really wanted to. But you’d never killed another fae before. Never killed another living thing. So you hesitated and that was long enough for them to overpower you both and kill your mother. They’d come for Rhys that day, but they got a better prize in the form of the Princess of the Night Court.

“No, you don’t get to feel bad about this,” You warn him, “You are not to blame.”

“If I hadn't trusted him…if I would’ve just met you both in the woods thay day,” He all but cries out.

“No, it’s no one's fault but Tamlin and his family’s,” You stay sternly, hoping maybe one day you’ll believe it.

Maybe one day you’ll finally believe that you aren’t to blame for your mother’s death. That none of it was your fault. She had no real power of her own, no way to protect herself. It was on you to do that. It was Rhys’ responsibility to protect you both. Not that you would ever, ever blame him for what happened. He couldn’t have known what Tamlin was planning with his family. He couldn’t have known that his friend wanted him dead because they saw him as such a threat.

Suddenly your body felt heavy and weighed down. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. All you felt was pure exhaustion. Your eyes flutter and Rhys seems to notice the change in your body.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he questions.

You try to smile, but you know it doesn't reach your eyes, “I don’t sleep well anymore.”

He sighs deeply and wraps an arm around you as he slowly leads you towards the bedrooms, “I can have a tonic brought up for you.”

“No need,”You shake your head, “I’m sure just being back here will put me at ease.”

You wished you believed the words you were saying. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure that anything would put you at ease again. All you could feel was anxious energy swirling in your belly. Threatening to boil over at any moment. You couldn’t fully wrap your mind around the fact that you were free. Couldn’t fully understand that you were here, and safe, and with your family again. Or at least part of them.

“Cassain and Azirel won’t know what to do with themselves,” Rhys lets out a small laugh as he wipes at his eyes.

“You can’t tell them,” You halt suddenly, “Oh, Rhys, you can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Don’t you want to see them again?” he questions, brows drawing in.

“Of course I do, but I-” You shake your head, feeling your whole body start to shake.

How could you explain it to him in a way that would make sense? How could he understand where your head was at? Seeing them would push you over the edge. Seeing Az…knowing his shadows would tell him your darkest secrets…you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed in you…disgusted with you. It would break you in more ways than Tamlin ever could.

To lose Azirel was like to lose the air you breathe. It would kill you to lose him. You could feel it deep within you. You wouldn’t survive Azriel turning his back upon you. So it was best that he just didn’t know you lived. Maybe you could live out the rest of your days in a cabin in the mountains. Yes…that would be good. You were used to the solitude anyway.

“You can’t tell them,” You begged your brother, “Please Rhys. I can’t bear them knowing.”

“But Y/N, they’re our family,” He tried to reason with you.

“Please Rhys,” you shake even harder, “I can’t bear it. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” He finally relented, “Okay. I won’t tell them.”

Your body sags with his agreement. Your breath comes out in heavy pants, because your lungs seem to be constricting and not allowing the proper amount of air into them. Everything just feels wrong now. Nothing feels right. You feel as if you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be allowed to have a moment of happiness with your brother.

You shouldn’t be allowed happiness when it’s your fault that your mother is dead. You should have done more to save her that day, instead of going limp in the arms of Tamlin’s brothers. You should have done everything in your power to save her. Instead you let her die, and you still live. It would have been better if you just died that day.

“Here we are,” Rhys said, unaware of the thoughts you were having, “Try to sleep. I’ll come check on you in a while.”

“Okay,” You sigh, pushing the door open, “Rhys?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Little Star. Now sleep, before you drop in a heap on the floor.”

You couldn’t sleep though. No matter how hard you try. Because all you could think of was how it should have been you to die. It should have been you, and not your mother. She could have helped Rhys with his transition into High Lord, she could’ve been there for Cassian and Azirel, who desperately needed a mother.

But instead you lived. And now you’re too cowardly to tell them that you lived. Too cowardly to ask to return home to Valaris. Too cowardly to do anything.

Rhys didn’t come back for hours, when he did you pretended to be asleep. All the while tears quietly slid down your cheeks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Your life wasn’t supposed to happen like this. What did you do to make The Mother punish you so?

“I’m taking Feyre to Valaris,” He spoke, somehow knowing you’re awake, “Please consider coming with us.”

“No,” You say firmly, not rolling over to see him, “I’d like to stay here.”

“It’s your home, Y/N,” He pleaded, “You can’t hide from it forever.”

“I can’t go back Rhys,” You can’t explain it to him. He would never let you out of his sight if he knew.

“Please consider it,” He begs, “Please, Little Star, I don’t want to be separated from you again.”

“Then don’t leave,” You snap at him.

“You know I have to go back.”

“Then take her and get out,” You snarl, “I’m not going back.”

“Y/N-”

“Go Rhysand!” You yell, reaching for anything to throw at him.

You can feel yourself losing control of the little power you had access to. Darkness seeping from your body. There were no stars in this darkness, only a black void. Much like the cocoon that Feyre created. Only this was something you never did. Your darkness always had stars, but now you aren’t sure if you could conjure them even if you tried.

That light inside you had been snuffed out long ago. It was only now that you realized it. It was only now that you accepted it as the truth. Your light was gone, the stars were gone. You weren’t Rhy’s Little Star anymore. You were something worse. Something made hard from years of captivity and cruelty. You weren’t sure you would even recognize yourself if you looked in the mirror.

“Fine,” You’d never heard him sound so defeated. You were sure if he had wings they would be dragging on the ground as he turned to leave your room. He stopped at the door and looked back at you, “I’ll send Mor to check in on you.”

“Don’t bother,” You mumble, “I’ll be fine.”

Only you wouldn’t be fine. You weren’t fine. And You weren’t sure that you ever would be fine again. The darkness threatened to swallow you whole and you wanted to let it. You wanted to give into it and let it take all that you were. Maybe it would be better that way. Easier.

When your door clicks shut and you hear Rhys’ footsteps moving away from you, you allow yourself to fall apart. When the house goes silent you let out an anguished cry loud enough to almost shake the whole mountain. Life wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You were supposed to be overjoyed at being freed, not whatever this is.

You feel as if you’re going to rip yourself apart, and for a moment you wish you would. You wish death would just come for you. You yearned for the sweet release that death would provide. Because at least then you might be able to find peace.

Tag List

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#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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you aren't a chore...

mapi x ingrid x reader

r tears her ACL. her girlfriends struggle to help her heal. angst + fluff. mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so <3

Tearing your ACL while on national duty was less than ideal; not just because it was a months long, intense injury that you knew would be hell to go through. It happened while you were in England, and your girlfriends were in Norway and Spain, respectively. You were dreading having call them with this news, news you knew would hurt them almost as much as it hurt you, but there was no avoiding it.

You were at the hospital, and the doctor had just left the room, confirming what you'd known since you'd gone down on the pitch a few hours ago. You were finally alone, and you couldn't put off calling Ingrid and Mapi any longer.

You started a group face time, wincing when you noticed in the camera how red your eyes were from crying. It only rang a couple times before both girls clicked on, almost simultaneously.

"What's happened?" Ingrid asked frantically, not needing to see more than your tearstained face to know that something was wrong. Mapi's excited smile dropped into a frown, too, and you took a deep breath.

"It's my ACL." You told them, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"No, amor," Mapi said in disbelief.

"It's completely torn. I need surgery." You continued, gripping the sheets under you in your hand, not wanting to cry.

"Are you sure?" Ingrid asked.

"Yeah, I just got the scans back and the doctor confirmed."

"How did it happen?" Mapi's questioned, voice shaking as she spoke.

"I planted my foot and twisted I guess, and it just. Really hurt. I heard it pop."

"Amor, I am so sorry. I'll come to you, I'll fly tomorrow," Mapi said, shuffling around, clearly looking for her computer to book a flight.

"No, no, it's okay. They're flying me back tomorrow to Spain tomorrow. They offered to do the surgery here but I wanted to be home. With you guys."

"Love," Ingrid began, and you could tell from the desperate look on her face what she was thinking.

"No, Ingrid. You'll stay with your team, and win for me. Mapi will take good care of me." You insisted. Ingrid's teeth bit at her lip, an anguished expression etched across her features.

"Love, I want to be with you," She said, and you could tell she was fighting back tears.

"I know, I want that too. It's only a few more days, though. The team needs you, Ingrid, you have to stay."

"Y/n's right. You have to stay with the team. She'll be a handful, but I can handle our girl." Mapi joked, face falling when you only cracked a small smile. She wanted to reach through the phone, to call up one of the English girls and tell them to give you a hug, anything to make you feel better. Glancing at Ingrid's face, the Spaniard could tell she felt the same.

"Can we do anything?" Ingrid asked, thinking that she would move heaven and earth to get rid of the sad frown on your face.

"No, I'm fine, I promise." You said, although your voice and expression told a completely different story.

"Cariño, neither of us expect you to be fine." Mapi said softly.

You forced a smile onto your lips, hoping it was convincing. "Really, I'm fine. I have to go though, they're about to discharge me. I love you guys." You hung up, rolling onto your good side, muffling your sobs in the pillow.

Ingrid and Mapi hung up with each other soon after, both agreeing that they needed to keep a close eye on you. You'd never handled injuries well, but the state you were in on the phone was worse than they'd ever seen. This was a worse injury than you'd ever had, so it made sense, but they were still incredibly worried.

-----

Mapi had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but Barca had insisted on you going to meet with the surgeon right away, sending a car to grab you and take you there. Mapi promised to meet you at the hospital for your consultation, and arrived there in the parking lot a full 10 minutes before you did. She wanted to prepare herself for whatever you were feeling. Honestly, she had no idea how to best help you; neither her nor Ingrid had ever had an injury of this magnitude, they couldn't know what you were feeling. The defender had never felt more helpless in her life, watching you slowly get out of the car, grabbing your crutches, and making your way towards the door, where she waited.

"Mi amor," she said as you neared her, moving forward to carefully wrap you in a hug. You were stiff in her arms, jaw set stiffly, as you murmured a greeting into your ear. It became clear to your girlfriend that you had completely shut down, not allowing yourself to feel the intense emotions she knew must be tugging at you. Not wanting to challenge that unhealthy coping mechanism at the hospital, she simply kissed your cheek lightly, before leading you into the building.

You were quieter than Mapi thought you'd ever been in your life as you made your way into the surgeon's office, face pinched in pain as you settled into a chair next to her, moving your crutches to rest next to you with a disdainful look at them.

You waited for the surgeon, turning to the team doctor that had accompanied you and speaking, voice raspy from lack of use.

"When do you think they'll do the surgery?"

"Depends. Some doctors like to do it sooner rather than later, to preserve muscle strength, while others think the more time taken to reduce swelling, the better. This guy did Alexia's, and he only had her wait a week."

You nodded absentmindedly, reaching one hand over to grip onto Mapi's. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, pulling out her phone to update Ingrid.

Your meeting with the surgeon may as well have been 2 seconds, for all the information you absorbed. Once he told you that he'd operate in a week, you couldn't force yourself to focus on everything he said about the recovery process. If you didn't take this one step at a time, you were sure that you would fail. Mapi could tell you weren't all there, and she allowed you the time to process on the way home, not bothering to speak to you until she asked if you wanted to call Ingrid and update her.

"Can you just tell her?"

"Of course, amor. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Thanks Maps."

If this was a hint to how you'd be for the next week, Mapi felt like she'd almost rather have torn her own ACL. She could tell that you were hurting, not just physically, but deep within you. You wouldn't speak about it though, repeating the words "I'm fine" until they no longer sounded like words. You weren't overly upset, nor were you overly happy. Instead, Mapi got used to the version of you that was quiet, giving her only small smiles and chuckles when she tried to joke around, instead of the full laughs that had been part of the reason she'd fallen in love with you.

As the days passed, and your surgery grew closer, Mapi noticed you become more irritable, frustrated more easily. She talked to Ingrid often about it, completely at a loss for how to help you, as nothing she was doing seemed to work. Her and Ingrid agreed that this period of waiting was especially hard for you; you couldn't do any rehab work, nothing at all could be done until after the surgery. The hoped that being able to focus your mind and body on recovering would bring you back to yourself.

Ingrid, for her part, made up her mind to leave the national team and come home to you at least 10 different times, but you and Mapi always talked her out of it. She was due home the day of your surgery, and you both were adamant that this injury not affect Ingrid's playing time with the team. Ingrid was packing one day, after a particularly rough night where Mapi confided that she wasn't sure you'd slept at all, and Mapi was clearly failing at convincing her to stay. You'd grabbed the phone from Mapi's hand, expressing the most emotion that they'd seen from you since your injury.

"Ingrid, please don't do this for me. I love you, and I miss you, but I want you to stay. Coming home now will only make me feel guilty. Besides, watching you play is one of the only things I'm looking forward to right now."

Mapi practically froze when you spoke, waiting to hear Ingrid's response.

"Okay, elskling. If that's what you want." Ingrid sighed, dropping her clothes back into her drawer. She wasn't happy about it, but she trusted that if you really did need her, you'd ask for her.

"Mapi is taking good care of me, anyway. Not as good of a job as you could, but it'll do." You joked, shooting Mapi a smirk. She feigned being supremely insulted, but really, she was just happy to see you smile again, even if it was at her own expense.

"Alright, you can shower by yourself tonight." She teased, and you glared at her.

"I might as well be showering by myself, for all the help you are."

"I shaved your legs for you yesterday!" Mapi gasped.

"That's not the kind of help I'm talking about."

"If I had sex with you while you were injured, in the shower, while Ingrid was in another country, I think she'd kill me." Mapi defended.

"I absolutely would. You'll just have to be patient and wait for me. And till after your surgery. Think of it as a fun challenge." Ingrid smiled, enjoying the glimpse of the you she was used to seeing, not the empty version that you'd been for the past few days.

"What is fun about that, Ingrid, be serious."

"What's fun is that we're all waiting, and we will all have a very good time together once I'm back, and it's safe for you. I promise, you can be a pillow princess the way you like, and Mapi and I will do whatever you want." Ingrid said sweetly, and you tried to ignore the way you felt suddenly warm at her words.

You gave a dramatic sigh. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want." Both girls promised together. Mapi saw the most excitement she'd seen in you all week, and couldn't help but leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. You softened at her loving action, growing slightly more serious.

"I'm sorry I've been so awful this past week. I know I haven't been very much fun to be around."

"You have every right to be grumpy, mi amor. You're doing your best, we don't expect any more than that." Mapi promised.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling, elskling. You can act any way you feel like acting." Ingrid assured you. "It'll get easier post surgery, yeah?"

You nodded like you agreed, but you weren't exactly sure about that. You hoped Ingrid was right, you really did. Mapi caught your reluctance.

"No matter what, we've got you, mi amor." She said, tilting your chin to look into your eyes as she spoke.

"Always, kjære." Ingrid echoed, and this time, you felt more confident when you nodded. You weren't sure that you trusted your body anymore, not when it had betrayed you so grievously. You did, however, trust your girls with everything. Everything.

-----

Mapi hated being in hospitals. When she had gone to your initial appointment with you, it was just the surgeons office you were visiting, which was tolerable. But a hospital, with patients and sick people, and doctors and nurses in scrubs, she hated. She always had, and the night before your surgery, you could tell she was getting nervous. You were nervous too, but magically, your stress evaporated when you realized that Mapi was anxious, and all you cared about was making her feel better.

Ingrid was set to touch down in Barcelona after you went back, and she would probably arrive at the hospital right as you were coming out of recovery, which wouldn't be very much help to your other girlfriend who wouldn't hear a word about leaving the hospital while you were in surgery.

You were debating on making Mapi talk about it, when she started bouncing her knee rapidly, and picking at her cuticles; 2 things she only did when she was really nervous. You knew if she continued like this, she'd get no sleep. More than that, she looked miserable, although she tried to hide it, and you hated seeing her upset.

"María," you called softly, getting her attention. She turned to you, and you watched her literally change her face from one of slight panic, to one of reassuring confidence. If you didn't know her so well, you would have bought the second face with no questions asked.

"Come here," you said, gesturing for her to move closer. She must have thought you were seeking comfort, because otherwise there was no way she would have accepted your comfort, and she moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Are you nervous?" She asked.

"A bit. You seem really anxious though, baby. Are you okay?" At your question, she sat up, leaning away from you.

"I am fine, amor. Nothing to worry about." She said. "I am going to go shower, and then I'll help you to bed, alright?"

"Okay." You agreed, letting it go for now. She smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before leaving the room.

You sighed once she was out of earshot. You'd let Ingrid know that Mapi seemed more anxious than normal, but you didn't want to overly stress out the Norwegian, not when you knew she was already kind of freaking out at the thought that you were having surgery before she arrived home. You pulled your phone out, hitting the contact of the one person you knew Mapi trusted almost as much as she trusted you and Ingrid.

"Alexia? I need your help with something."

-----

Worrying about Mapi turned out to be a wonderful distraction for you, as you both woke early and headed to the hospital. You were nervous, but your attention was on your girlfriend, who had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel with one hand, and yours wrapped tight in the other.

"Maps?"

"Sí?" She said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, her worry evident in her slightly shaky voice.

"Ale is going to meet us at the hospital."

Mapi blinked. "That is nice of her to come for you." She said, although she was slightly confused. You hadn't wanted to see anyone recently, and although you'd been talking to Alexia, as someone who had, and was currently, having issues with her knee, Mapi was surprised that you'd agreed to her being at the hospital, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

"She's not coming for me, she's coming for you. I don't want you sitting alone around the hospital for hours, not when you're already nervous." You stated plainly, never having planned on hiding the real reason Alexia was invited.

"Amor, you should not be worrying about me," Mapi complained, although her grip slackened slightly on the wheel.

"Well, I am. So is Ingrid. And with Alexia there, we won't worry as much. Really, you'll be doing both of us a favor."

"You will be unconscious, but worrying about me?" Mapi rolled her eyes.

"I always dream of you, baby. Even when I'm under general." You winked at her.

Mapi snorted, but you were delighted to see a faint blush on her cheeks. She was quiet for a moment.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She spoke softly, and you could just barely hear her over the sound of the engine.

You pull her hand over, still laced with yours, kissing the back of it. She smiled at you, eyes crinkling the way they did when she smiled really genuinely. You returned the smile, feeling incredibly glad that you weren't really freaking out.

-----

You sat in the hospital bed, all dressed in the stupid gown, feeling significantly less calm and collected. Mapi had settled after learning that Alexia would be around, and her decrease in stress had allowed you to focus back on your own.

You were visibly nervous, hands shaking, teeth chattering, holding rather tightly to Mapi's hand. They put the IV in, and you noticed Alexia mumble something to one of the nurses, who took one look at you, nodded, and disappeared from the room.

"What did you tell her?" You wondered.

"Nothing, just a question." Alexia replied calmly, but the her eyes flicked away from your eyes; Alexia could lie, but she couldn't meet your eyes while doing it. The nurse returned before you could press your captain.

"Something to help you relax, alright?" The nurse said with a kind smile, injecting something into the IV. You didn't know what it was, but the effect was almost instantaneous. Your neck went limp, and your head dropped onto the pillow. Your body drained of tension, and you loosened your painfully tight grip on your girlfriends hand.

"I feel better," you said, fighting back a yawn. The nurse left the room, telling you that they would be ready to take you back in a couple minutes. Mapi was looking at you, amused by the sudden relaxed version of you in front of her.

"Alexia, you really are a great blonde." You said, squinting at her.

"Thank you chica," she said with a laugh. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?

You turned to look at Mapi, raising a clumsy hand to boop her nose. "You're so pretty. Like so, so, pretty."

"They really did give you the good stuff," Mapi laughed. You returned her grin, eyes beginning to flutter shut. You were lightly snuffling against the oxygen tubes not seconds later, out cold, still clinging to your girlfriend's hand.

"What did you tell them to give her?" Mapi asked, turning her attention to her best friend.

"I just asked if they could start her early on the stuff to relax her. My mom had them do it for me when I had my surgery, because she thought I was going to break my sister's hand, I was holding it so tight." Alexia commented.

The nurse entered again, followed by several others, and Mapi knew it was time. She leaned down, placing a light kiss on your cheek.

"Good luck, mi amor. I love you." She whispered the words into your ear, squeezing your hand once more, before allowing them to roll your bed away. She watched as they wheeled you down the hall, feeling a flutter of worry in her chest. They better be careful with you.

Alexia stood next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"She'll be fine, amiga." Alexia reassured, and Mapi nodded, trying to convince herself.

"Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it." Mapi mumbled.

"Of course." Alexia replied. "You better text Ingrid and tell her y/n went back. You know she bought plane wifi, and if you don't update her, I wouldn't want to be you when she arrives later."

-----

Ingrid hated plane wifi, potentially more than she'd ever hated anything in her entire life. All she wanted was to hear that you'd gone back for surgery okay, and also that Mapi was alright, but the wifi was hardly functioning, and Ingrid felt like chucking her phone across the plane. Her texts began to load, finally, as the plane was landing. Perfect timing. She had a text from Mapi, and a text from Alexia.

"They just took her back. She was nervous but they gave her something and she was... no longer nervous. Waiting with Ale now. Fly safe, princesa. Te amo."

"Mapi's alright. Definitely anxious but I'm distracting her by asking her to tell me what her favorite goal she's ever scored is. She's been talking for 20 minutes."

Ingrid relaxed, even cracking a smile at Alexia's text. Her and Mapi's relationship was so entertaining to watch. They spent most of their time together giggling, making fun of each other, but if one of them needed the other, she would be there. No matter what.

Ingrid made her way off the plane, resisting the urge to shove everyone out of her way. She made record time getting to baggage claim, and was just pulling out her phone to call and uber when she felt someone land squarely on her back.

"La princesa! Your taxi service has arrived!" Ingrid tried to be annoyed, she really did, but when Pina climbed off her back, and Ingrid turned around to find her and Patri smiling goofily at her, she couldn't manage it.

-----

Ingrid arrived at the hospital, leaving her bag with Pina and Patri, who had promised to get it home for her, before heading inside. She'd gotten a text from Mapi a couple of minutes ago, one that had worried her.

"Taking longer than they expected. Not sure why. We're in room 402 when you get here."

Ingrid hauled ass to room 402, her stiff legs from playing a full 90 the day before, and then getting on a plane making it rather difficult. She made it at the same time, apparently, as the surgeon, and she felt slightly nauseous as she walked into the room. There were plenty of reasons why a surgery would take longer, but Ingrid could not, for the life of her, think of one that wasn't negative.

She walked right into the room, just before the doctor, quickly hugging Alexia before pulling Mapi into her side. They all looked at the doctor expectantly. He looked frazzled, which didn't make anyone feel better, and he scrolled through your chart for what felt like minutes before finally speaking.

"The surgery was successful, and y/n is in recovery. There was, however, a slight, unforeseen complication."

-----

You woke up slowly, and you could hear before you could open your eyes. You weren't sure where you were, or what was happening. You heard rhythmic beeping, and it sped up as you grew more aware. You shifted lightly in the bed, unable to get your eyes to open. The beeping sped up faster, but someone laid a hand on your cheek, and a soft voice filled your ears.

"You're alright, cariño, we're here with you." You settled instantly when you heard Mapi speak, the beeping that you now realized was measuring your heart rate slowing down again. It took a few more minutes before you got your eyes to open, and, by that point, you remembered where you were, and why you were there.

It was bright when you looked around. Mapi was in a chair next to you, hand holding yours. You looked around, realizing Ingrid was supposed to be there, as was Alexia. Even just waking up from surgery, you wanted to see your girlfriend, more than anything.

"Ingrid?" You croaked out, directing the question to Mapi. She smiled when she heard your voice, and helped you take a few sips of the water on the table in front of you.

"She's just talking to the doctor, she'll be back in a bit," Mapi informed you. There was something off, though, a tightness to her smile that shouldn't be there. It could have been her general discontent being in the hospital, but something in your gut told you that it wasn't that.

"What's wrong?" You asked, forcing your eyes back open when the slid shut again.

"Nothing," Mapi lied, looking at the door almost pleadingly.

"María, what is going on," you said. Before she could lie again, Ingrid and Alexia appeared in the doorway, the doctor behind them. Ingrid smiled softly when she saw you awake, moving forward to sit next to the bed, and kiss your temple. You returned her smile, but focused back on the doctor. He looked... not troubled, but like he was about to deliver bad news.

"What went wrong?" You asked him, feeling suddenly much more awake.

He smiled sympathetically. "Nothing went wrong, the surgery was successful. There was more damage to your surrounding muscles than we expected, so we had to go to the hamstring instead of the patellar tendon for replacement tissue. It means a slightly harder recovery, as you also need to strengthen the area where the graft came from."

You were quiet for a moment. You'd thought so hard about the surgery, considered every aspect, but didn't think that this was a possibility. You weren't quite sure what to think.

"How much longer will recovery be?" You asked.

"The time shouldn't be affected, but you'll be in more pain at the beginning." He explained. You let out a sigh of relief. You could handle more pain, what you couldn't handle was being off the pitch any longer than you already were going to have to be. The doctor informed you that you were free to go once you were more awake, confirming that you'd made a follow up appointment to remove the sutures, before leaving the room.

You looked down then, seeing your leg wrapped up in heavy white gauze, encased in a black brace. Your knee had been swollen before, yes, but it hadn't really looked like anything was wrong with it. Now, though, it was glaringly obvious, a stark reminder of the long months ahead.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" Ingrid asked, tearing you from your thoughts. It took you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you did, you addressed everyone in the room, trying to put their obvious nerves at ease.

"It's fine. As long as I can get back to playing in the same amount of time, I don't care what they use. I can deal with the pain." You smiled at your girlfriends, and at Alexia. They all returned the gesture, glad to see that you weren't too upset.

-----

You were feeling less confident the next day. The initial drugs wore off, leaving you in considerably more pain than before. Your knee felt hot and swollen, and it throbbed painfully anytime you got up. You were in the extra bedroom, having insisted that Ingrid and Mapi sleep in your bedroom together, so no one would worry about accidentally bumping you. They were reluctant, and Mapi checked on you at least 10 times the first night.

Ingrid had finally managed to get a enough sleep, though, after struggling the whole time she was gone. She was exhausted, and slept for 14 hours. When she woke up, she was furious that you and Mapi hadn't woken her, seeing as though both of you had been up for hours. You, because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow, and Mapi, also because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow. She hated seeing you in pain, and she had hovered over you all morning.

Ingrid shuffled into the extra room a few minutes after finally waking up, curling up next to you in the bed.

"How are you?" She mumbled, looking up at you, face still scrunched with sleep. You smiled down at her, running your finger over the sleep lines etched into her skin.

"Did you sleep well?" You asked, ignoring her question. She yawned, snuggling into your good leg, laying her head on your thigh.

"Slept good. Would have slept better with you there, though." She said, voice muffled against your skin. "You didn't answer my question."

"It hurts." You said simply. You didn't want to talk about it, so you changed the subject. "I missed you." You said. You'd been so out of it yesterday, you didn't really feel like you had enjoyed having Ingrid back home.

"I missed you too, elskling. I'm sorry I wasn't home sooner."

"Don't be. You were where you needed to be. You're home now, that's all that matters." Ingrid smiled at you, eyes fluttering shut again. Sleepy Ingrid was your favorite, and you began to run your fingers through her thick hair, avoiding the tangles. She hummed with pleasure, relaxing further into you.

"How are you feeling, amor?" Mapi asked from the doorway, looking anxiously at you. The smile fell from your lips. Was this what the next 9 months would be like? Every nice moment interrupted by your stupid injury?

"I'm fine, Mapi." You said, voice slightly harsher than it needed to be.

-----

This began a new pattern to your behavior. When you were distracted, you were fine, happy to be with your girls. When you weren't distracted, though, you were miserable. In pain, mostly helpless, and in a foul mood. It only worsened when you girlfriend's asked you questions about how you were feeling; you knew you were being ridiculous, but you felt like the only think you guys talked about was your knee.

Your newfound grumpiness did not, however, mean that you were expressing your emotions. On the contrary, they had never been more inaccessible. Your anger never faltered into sadness; frustration, sure, but neither of your girls could get you to acknowledge that you were upset.

As the weeks passed, and the recovery felt like it was going too slow, you grew more resistant to the help your girlfriend's were anxious to provide. Things were tense around the house, your girlfriends felt like they were walking on eggshells around you, waiting for your frosty exterior to crack, which it eventually did.

-----

You were in the Barcelona gym, 3 weeks post op. You were doing simple exercises, walking from one end of the room to the other, bending and flexing your knee, raising up on your toes. Things that should be easy, but weren't any longer. Alexia was on the other side of the gym, doing a much more complicated exercise. Ingrid and Mapi were out on the pitch, presumably. There was just one physio with you guys today, watching carefully as you did the world's lamest and smallest squats, barely bending your knee, leaning against a table. There was soft music playing throughout the gym, and it was rather peaceful.

That is, until Alexia dropped the barbell she was lifting with a loud clatter. You startled at the sound, twisting without thinking to look towards the noise. As soon as you did, you realized your bad leg was still planted when you turned. It didn't turn much, but it was enough for your knee to erupt in pain.

"Fuck!" You shouted, and Alexia was at your side in a second, as was the physio. "Fuck, something's wrong, jesus," you said, leaning back on the table and taking the weight off your knee.

"Alright, relax, let me look," the physio said, guiding you to lay back on the table. Alexia moved to stand by your head, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"Something is wrong," you said again, even though the pain was rapidly fading. The physio looked at your knee, poking and prodding at it gently, before looking at you.

"How much does it hurt?" He asked calmly.

Tears were stinging your eyes, and your voice trembled as you responded. "Not-not much, it's fading."

"No pain?" He asked again after a minute, applying pressure to each side of your knee.

"No, not anymore," you choked out.

"I don't think anything is wrong. If it was, the pain wouldn't be fading. The incisions look fine. You're okay, you just tweaked it."

"No, no, no. Something is wrong, it doesn't feel right, Ale it doesn't feel right." You cried, turning your attention to Alexia over you, her hand moving up and down your arm. You were fully panicking now, tears falling freely down your face, hands gripping at your shirt as if to tether you to the present. Alexia exchanged a look with the physio.

"Chica, you're okay, this is normal, nothing is wrong." She assured you, but you just shook your head frantically in response.

"No, I messed something up," you gasp. You sat up suddenly, almost smacking your head into Alexia's face. "I need scans, I need to do something," you say, moving to get off the table. Your knee didn't hurt anymore, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had messed something up, horribly so. Alexia stopped you, resting her hands on your shoulders, holding you down on the table.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. You haven't messed anything up, everything is okay." She soothed. It clearly wasn't working to calm you, so she turned to the physio. "Get Mapi and Ingrid," she murmured before turning her attention back to you.

"Come on, amiga, you need to calm down," Alexia said. You could only shake your head, broken sobs falling past your lips. You hid your face in your hands, completely disconnecting from the world around you. Your ears were ringing, the only thing you could hear was blood pumping in your ears. You didn't know how much time had passed before different set of hands were cradling your face, urging you to look up. You do, and find the worried faces of your girlfriends in front of you. Ingrid has her hands on your face, and Mapi has taken one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

"Somethings... wr-wrong, help," you get out, looking between them frantically.

"No kjære, it's okay, nothing is wrong." Ingrid promised. For some reason, you believed her when you hadn't believed the others.

"Are you- are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, cariño, the physio said you just tweaked it. You are completely fine." Mapi said softly.

"I didn't mess it up?"

"No, darling, you didn't mess anything up."

You nodded jerkily, leaning forward to rest your head on Ingrid's sternum, tugging on Mapi's hand until she moves closer.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry about the barbell, it slipped out of my hands," Alexia begins from the other side of the table, and you can hear the guilt in her voice.

"It's okay, Ale, it's not your fault." You mumbled into Ingrid's chest, reaching a hand out to the side. Alexia grabs it sighing in relief, squeezing once, before pulling away, giving you and your girlfriends some privacy. You stayed hidden away, leaning against Ingrid. You're clearly still emotional, but you don't seem interested in speaking, or moving again. It's quiet for a few moments, before you finally pulling away, wiping at your eyes.

"Can we go home?" You asked.

"Yeah, let's go home." Mapi agreed easily. You stood, taking a tentative step. Your face burns with embarrassment when you don't feel anything out of the ordinary in your knee. You'd freaked out for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

-----

You'd been sitting in silence on the couch since you'd arrived home 20 minutes ago, staring blankly at the dark TV. Your knee was propped up in Ingrid's lap, an icepack wrapped snuggly around the swollen appendage. Mapi was on your other side, resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders, shake you, and beg you to talk to them. Her and Ingrid had agreed to let you come to them, though. There was no use pushing you. Their patience is finally rewarded.

"Sorry I freaked out and you both had to leave training early." You said, raw voice startling your girlfriend's out of their thoughts.

"Don't be so-"

"-Please don't tell me not to be sorry. I've been such a burden for weeks, and you keep telling me not to be sorry about it. I am sorry about it, and I don't understand why you aren't annoyed with me." You cut in, spitting the words with an intensity neither of women was expecting.

"You are not a burden, y/n," Ingrid said, hurt bleeding into her tone.

"Yes I am," you dismiss. "You've had to do everything for me these past few weeks, and all I've done is act like the world has ended. It's just a knee injury, I don't know why I'm acting like this."

"Amor, it is okay if you feel like the world has ended. This is a big thing, and you are allowed to feel things. You don't have to push everything down, it's not healthy."

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "You already have to take care of me. You shouldn't have to deal with the mess inside my head too."

"You could not be burden, darling, not to us. We don't mind taking care of you, not at all. And we want to know what's going on inside your head. It's been driving us crazy, not knowing what you're feeling. We want to know, y/n, we want to know it all." Ingrid's voice has a clear undertone of determination in it.

"You guys are so busy," you argue weakly. They were; the past weeks juggling you and the team had been draining. It was obvious to you. They hadn't realized how much you'd noticed it.

"We are never too busy for you, amor, and I'm so sorry if we've made you feel like we are." Mapi said gently. "You are our priority."

You finally looked up at them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's just been hard. You guys get to go play, and I stay here, or go to the gym. And you spend all this time together at training. All the time you spend with me is you guys making sure my knee is okay."

Both of your girlfriend's faces are ones of horror at your confession. They hadn't realized you'd been feeling like this, not at all.

Mapi places a hard kiss on your temple, resting her chin on your head. "If I could switch places with you, cariño, I would. Watching you go through this, be in so much pain, has been killing me. I want to fix it, but I can't. All I can do is try to help, try to make you feel better. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were just a task for us, just a chore to be taken care of. You are our girl, nuestra niña bonita, and we love you, more than anything."

There are silent tears falling from your eyes when Mapi is done talking. She's said everything you've needed to hear this whole time, but were too nervous, too worried about being a burden to them to ask for their reassurance. Ingrid's hand lifts, carefully wiping a tear off your cheek, prompting you to look at her.

"No more of this, okay? When you need us, whether it's attention, or our help with something, or just a distraction, you tell us. You tell us, and we'll do it, whatever you need. You're not alone in this, darling. We're here for anything, really. Just like you would be for us if the roles were reversed."

You feel slightly silly when she reminds you of that. Obviously, you would do everything within your power to help one of your girlfriend's if they were going through this. Why you expected them to not really want to do the same was beyond you.

"Okay." You murmur, eyes on Ingrid as she scoots closer, pressing into your other side. You've been reminded of something, something Ingrid had promised you over the phone. Whatever you want, she'd said. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you needed to ask for it.

"Could I ask for something now?" You wonder quietly, and you hear Mapi laugh above you, clearly anticipating what you're about to ask for. Ingrid has the decency to pretend she doesn't know.

"What would that be?" She asks, placing her hand on your upper thigh.

"You promised me something about you and Mapi doing whatever I wanted?" You grin.

"Hmm, do you think you're ready for that, elskling?"

"God, yes. I'm ready, I promise." Your voice is already needy, already desperate.

"Mapi, go get things ready." Ingrid instructed, and you feel Mapi rise from next to you, and walk away into the bedroom.

"How do you know what to get ready if I haven't said what I want?" You questioned, looking up into the Norwegian's dark eyes.

Ingrid leaned forward, pressing light kisses in a trail up your jaw, stopping just by your ear. "I know what you want better than you do, pretty girl. I thought you knew that by now."

You shivered with excitement. "Don't be too careful with me, okay?"

"We'll be as careful as we need to be," Ingrid promised. Ingrid's lips meet yours, pressing harder than she has in weeks. It's the most she's touched you since your surgery, really, and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. The wait will have been worth it, you're sure of that.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader

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