#they speak of going about life in quiet desperation. of feeling this weight of a pressure pushing down upon us?

[lostfracturess]

THREE LITTLE WORDS — SATORU GOJO

pairing — satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary — for twenty-four years, satoru gojo has carried three little words on the tip of his tongue, never daring to speak them aloud. growing up as the strongest sorcerer comes with its burdens, and loving someone means putting them at risk. but when you're about to marry someone else, satoru finally realizes that sometimes the biggest risk is never taking one at all.

word count — 7.4 k

genre/tags — childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective gojo, idiots in love

warnings — no explicit content (only kissing), mild violence mentions, references to injuries, angst, alcohol use, mentions of arranged marriages, family pressure, reference to assassination attempts

author's note — hey lovelies, with everything that's going on rn, i wanted to write something cute to maybe make someone smile today. there's a little bit of angst in this (sorry, yk me), but mostly it's (bitter)sweet moments. and i tried to keep it somewhat canon-compliant, but maybe not really. and i've written this with gender-neutral pronouns to ensure everyone can see themselves in this story. if you notice any places where i might have slipped up, please let me know.

masterlist

Three little words.

Just eight letters that had lived on the tip of Satoru Gojo's tongue for what felt like forever, desperately wanting to spill from his lips every time he saw you. 

Three words that had haunted him through the years, through scraped knees and graduation gowns, through first dates and near-death experiences.

I love you.

Simple words that carried the weight of universes, that could change everything — or destroy it all. And so, he'd held them back, let them sit heavy in his chest, like a weight that pressed against his lungs with every breath.

Because loving a Gojo wasn't easy. It never had been.

Love had always been a foreign concept to him. Growing up in the Gojo clan meant learning about power before learning about affection, mastering close combat before understanding emotions. 

Love was abstract, complex, something other people seemed to grasp naturally while he watched from behind barriers of privilege and power.

But with you? With you, it had been as clear as breathing.

It hadn't been the dramatic, earth-shattering revelation movies always promised. Instead, it was quiet, constant, like realizing the sun had always been there, warming his skin. It was in the way you shared your lunch without being asked, how you never flinched when his powers flared, how you rolled your eyes at his dramatics but smiled anyway.

Love had been the easiest thing in the world when it came to you. Understanding it, feeling it, living it — that part was simple.

It was everything else that was complicated.

Because Satoru knew what happened to people the Gojos loved. He'd seen it, lived it, carried the weight of those consequences since before he could walk. Love, in his world, wasn't just about feelings — it was about target signs and weaknesses, about giving your enemies a roadmap straight to your heart.

And your heart? That was something he couldn't bear to put at risk.

So he had learned to swallow those words, to tuck them away behind smirks and jokes and casual touches that never lasted quite long enough. He had become an expert at loving you silently, at pouring all those unspoken feelings into small acts of protection, of care, of presence.

Some days, the words would claw at his throat like living things, desperate to escape. On those days, he'd find himself watching you — the way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the simple fact of your existence in his complicated world — and the urge to confess would be almost unbearable.

But then he'd remember all the attempts on his life, all the enemies who would love nothing more than to hurt him through you, all the danger that came with the name Gojo, and the words would retreat back into his chest where they lived like a constant ache.

Loving you had been the easiest thing Satoru had ever done. Keeping that love silent had been the hardest.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 6 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The first time Satoru realized he wanted to say those words to you, he had been six years old and you were crying because some older kids stole your favorite crayon. You had both been sitting in the reading corner of your kindergarten classroom, and your tears were making his chest hurt in a way he didn't understand.

"Don't cry," he had said, reaching out to pat your head like his mom did when he was sad. "I'll get it back for you."

You had sniffled, looking up at him with those wide, watery eyes that made his little heart skip. "But they're bigger than you."

He had puffed up his chest. "So? I'm stronger."

Before you could stop him, he had marched right up to the group of second graders during recess. They towered over him, but Satoru hadn't cared. He was a Gojo, after all, and Gojos didn't back down.

Ten minutes later, he had been sitting in the principal's office with a bloody nose and a black eye, but clutched triumphantly in his hand was your favorite crayon. The principal had called his parents, of course. There was talk of his "concerning behavior" and "excessive force," but all Satoru could think about was how your whole face had lit up when he handed you back that crayon.

That night, as his mother tucked him into bed, she had asked him why he did it. And he simply said because you were sad.

His mother had given him a look that he wouldn't understand until years later. "The Gojo men have always been weak to those they love," she had told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He had wanted to tell you then, as you colored together the next day, carefully sharing that rescued crayon. The words had bubbled up in his chest like soda fizz, but he had swallowed them down. Because even at six, he knew that being around him meant trouble, and he didn't want to see you cry again.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 12 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Middle school had brought new challenges and new reasons to keep those words locked away. 

Satoru had started to understand what it meant to be a Gojo — the weight of the name, the expectations, the suffocating responsibilities that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

You were still there, though, somehow always by his side despite the chaos that surrounded him. When other kids whispered about his family, about the strange things that happened around him, you just rolled your eyes and shared your lunch with him like nothing was wrong.

He had nearly said it one autumn afternoon when you were both sprawled on your bedroom floor, supposedly doing homework but really just talking about nothing and everything. The late sunlight had caught your features just right, and you were laughing at something stupid he had said, and the words had almost slipped out.

But then his phone had rung. It had been his father, summoning him to an urgent clan meeting.

Another reminder of the life that awaited him — endless meetings about maintaining the Gojo name, about upholding traditions centuries old, about sacrificing personal happiness for the sake of the clan's future.

As he had sat in that austere meeting room, surrounded by stern-faced elders discussing bloodlines and duties and arranged marriages, all he could think about was your laugh from earlier that afternoon. How free it had sounded, how untainted by the weight of expectations and tradition.

How could he tell you he loved you when being with him meant dragging you into this world of rigid traditions and suffocating responsibilities? When loving him meant you might have to give up everything you held dear?

So he had swallowed the words once again, buried them deep, even as they burned in his chest like embers that refused to die. Because he would rather suffer in silence than watch the weight of the Gojo name dim the spark in your eyes.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 16 ⁺ 　 . ✦

High school was when Satoru had started deliberately pushing people away. He had built walls of arrogance and casual flirtation, keeping everyone at arm's length while making it look effortless. He dated casually, never seriously, and cultivated a reputation as someone who didn't do relationships.

Everyone had bought it except you.

You saw right through him, just like you always had. You called him out on his bullshit, threw erasers at his head when he was being particularly obnoxious, and somehow still showed up at his house with his favourite sweets when he was sick.

"Your ego's getting too big for this classroom," you'd tell him whenever he started showing off. He'd just grin and make it worse, because your exasperated sighs had become his favorite sound.

During lunch breaks, while others gathered around his desk trying to get his attention, you'd just roll your eyes and steal food from his plate. He'd pretend to be annoyed, but he had started packing extra of your favorites, just to watch you light up when you found them.

High school had also been the time when the clan's pressure had threatened to crush him. Every day brought new expectations, new techniques to master, new reminders that he wasn't just Satoru but the future of the Gojo clan.

He never told you, but your presence had kept him sane. You had been the only one allowed to see him practice with his cursed technique, sitting on the sidelines of the training grounds doing homework while he worked himself to exhaustion.

On the days when the pressure of being the strongest got too heavy, you'd wordlessly share your earbuds with him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder while some silly pop song played between you. And you'd hold his hand, and he'd squeeze back so tight it almost hurt.

In those moments, the words had been right there, sitting on his tongue. But he couldn't. Not when your friendship was the one pure thing in his complicated life.

But the words had nearly escaped one night when you were both sneaking back into town after a concert two cities over. You had been wearing his jacket because you forgot yours, and you were singing off-key to some pop song on the radio, and his heart had felt so full it might burst.

But then he had spotted a car that had been following them for the last twenty minutes, and instead of confessing, he had to lose the tail while pretending everything was fine. You never noticed, too caught up in your impromptu karaoke session, and he had been grateful for that at least.

He had driven you home in silence after that, the words buried so deep he could barely breathe around them. You had fallen asleep against the window, blissfully unaware of how close he'd come to changing everything between you.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 18 ⁺ 　 . ✦

College had brought a new kind of torture. Because then he had to watch you date other people, normal people who didn't have assassination attempts over breakfast or cursed energy that could level cities.

He still kept you close, though. He couldn't help it. You were his gravity, his true north, the one constant in his chaotic life. You were still the person who brought him coffee during all-nighters, who listened to his ridiculous theories at 3 AM, who somehow knew exactly when he needed a hug even though he'd never admit it.

The campus had whispered about it — about how the untouchable Satoru Gojo let you into his space so easily, how you were the only one who could barge into his dorm at any hour without fear of consequence. 

They wondered what made you special, what kind of hold you had over him. If they only knew how many times he had bitten back those three words when you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder during late-night study sessions, or how his heart had nearly burst when you'd chosen to spend the evening with him instead of going to that party your crush had invited you to.

The words had almost broken free during your sophomore year, when you had shown up at his door at midnight, crying because someone broke your heart. He had held you while you sobbed, stroked your hair, and plotted seventeen different ways to destroy the person who hurt you (he had only acted on three of them, and nobody could prove anything).

He remembered how you had curled into his side that night, hiccupping through tears about how you "just wanted someone who understood you."

The irony had burned in his throat — he understood you better than anyone, had mapped every constellation of your moods and meanings, had memorized every shade of your smile.

But understanding wasn't enough when being with him meant inheriting all his complications.

You had fallen asleep in his bed that night, wrapped in his favorite hoodie, and he had spent hours just watching you breathe, his heart aching with how much he wanted to keep you there forever.

When morning came, you had smiled at him over coffee and thanked him for being "the best friend anyone could ask for," and each word had felt like a knife between his ribs.

He had wanted to tell you then, had wanted to show you how you should be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally. But he knew he couldn't offer you the normal life you deserved, so he had swallowed the words again and just held you tighter.

Instead, he had channeled all those unspoken feelings into being the kind of friend you needed. He walked you home from late parties, threatened anyone who looked at you wrong and pretended it didn't kill him every time you gushed about a new crush. 

What you had never told him was that each crush faded as quickly as it came, because somehow they all fell short of the impossible standard he had unknowingly set.

He became an expert at loving you from arm's length, at being everything you needed while hiding how much he needed you.

The worst part was how naturally it all came to him — how easy it was to be the one you turned to, to be your safe harbor in every storm. Because loving you had always been as natural as breathing, even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

College became an impossible balance of keeping you close enough to stay in your life but far enough away to keep his heart from completely shattering.

He dated casually, built up his reputation as someone who didn't do commitment, all while knowing that the only person he'd ever wanted to commit to was right there, wearing his hoodies and stealing his fries and completely oblivious to how much power you held over him.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 22 ⁺ 　 . ✦

After graduation, you had both somehow ended up in the same city. Different jobs, different lives, but still orbiting each other like you always had.

You dated other people, and so did he (sort of), but you still met for coffee every Wednesday and dinner every Sunday, still texted each other random thoughts at inappropriate hours.

Those Wednesday coffee meetings had become sacred. He'd show up at your workplace, two cups in hand — one with less sugar but lots of milk, the way you liked it, and his own ridiculously sweet like his smile, as you always teased. 

He had memorized your schedule, knew which days you worked late, which mornings you had important meetings. On the nights when your job kept you at the office past midnight, he'd lurk nearby, pretending he just happened to be in the area when you finally emerged exhausted. 

You'd roll your eyes but accept his offer to walk you home, and he'd fight the urge to take your hand every step of the way.

Sunday dinners were even worse for his heart. Sometimes you'd cook (badly), sometimes he'd order in (expensively), but it always felt so domestic it hurt.

The way you'd steal bites from his plate, like you always used to do, how you'd curl up on his couch afterward like you belonged there, the casual way you'd rest your feet in his lap while watching movies — it was everything he wanted and nothing he could keep.

The words had nearly escaped during one of those Sunday dinners, when you were both a little drunk on wine and nostalgia, laughing about all the trouble you had gotten into growing up. You had looked at him with such fondness, such understanding, and he had almost broken.

"Remember when you punched that guy at the bar who wouldn't leave me alone?" you had asked, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter.

"Which time?" he had replied, only half-joking. There had been several instances, each one burning in his memory because how dare anyone make you uncomfortable.

"All of them," you had laughed, reaching over to poke his cheek. "My hero."

The word had squeezed his heart like a fist. Hero. If only you knew how selfish his protection had always been, how each act of defending you had been as much about his own possessive need to keep you safe as it was about your wellbeing.

You had shifted closer on the couch then, laying your head on his shoulder in that casual way that always made his breath catch and his fingers had itched to run through your hair, to tilt your face up to his, to finally close the distance he'd been maintaining for so many years. 

The words had risen in his throat like a tide. But then his phone had buzzed with an alert about another threat, another mission, another reason why loving him was dangerous, and he had bitten his tongue until he tasted blood.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 25 ⁺ 　 . ✦

It had gotten harder as the years passed. Harder to watch you live your life, harder to keep pretending he didn't want to be more than your best friend, harder to keep those three words locked away.

He had started taking more dangerous missions, throwing himself into his work with reckless abandon. Because if he was busy fighting curses and saving the world, he couldn't think about how much he wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to finally let those words free.

At least, that's what he had told himself as he accepted increasingly risky assignments, each one a little more dangerous than the last.

The other sorcerers had started calling him reckless. But how could he explain that facing down cursed spirits was easier than facing the way you looked at him with such concern? That physical pain was a welcome distraction from the constant ache in his chest?

But you were still there, still calling him out when he was being stupid, still patching him up when he came back injured, still looking at him like he was someone beyond his name and his power.

He always saved one small injury for you to tend to — a scrape here, a bruise there — even though his reversed cursed technique had already healed the worst of his wounds. It had become your ritual, you'd patch him up at your apartment, your coffee table covered in supplies that he didn't really need, both of you pretending this wasn't an elaborate excuse to be close to each other.

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days," you had muttered one particularly bad night, hands trembling slightly as you cleaned a gash on his forehead that would have healed on its own in seconds. But he had let you fuss over it anyway, selfishly savoring every gentle touch.

The words had almost broken free one night when you were stitching up a particularly nasty wound on his side. Your hands had been gentle but your lecture was harsh, telling him off for being so careless with his life.

He could have healed it himself — you both knew that — but he had wanted your hands on him, even if they came with a scolding.

"You're not immortal, you idiot," you had said, and there were tears in your eyes that made his heart clench. "I know you think you're invincible, but you're not. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

The raw emotion in your voice had nearly undone him. He had wanted to tell you then that he only acted so reckless because loving you from afar was slowly killing him anyway. That every mission, every fight, was just another way to exhaust himself enough that he wouldn't do something stupid like confess his feelings and ruin everything between you.

Instead, he had just made a joke about being too pretty to die, and pretended not to notice when you wiped your eyes. But he had caught your hand as you turned away, held it perhaps a moment too long, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in what he hoped felt like reassurance.

Your apartment had become his retreat those days. He would show up at odd hours, sometimes bleeding, sometimes just exhausted, and you would let him in without question. You never asked why he came to you instead of using his technique to heal himself. Maybe you had known, just like he had, that these moments weren't really about the injuries at all.

There had been nights when he'd fall asleep on your couch, lulled by the sound of you moving around your apartment, by the domestic comfort of knowing you were near. He'd wake up to find himself covered with a blanket, a glass of water on the coffee table, and his heart would ache with how much he wanted this to be his everyday reality.

Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he'd catch himself watching you as you worked on your laptop, curled up in the armchair across from him. The soft glow of the screen would wash over your features, and he'd think about how easy it would be to cross that small distance, to finally tell you everything he'd been holding back.

But then he'd remember the last mission, the close calls, the enemies who were getting stronger and bolder, and he'd force himself to look away. Because loving him had always come with a price, and he wasn't willing to make you pay it.

So he had buried those feelings deeper, thrown himself into more missions, and pretended that the ache in his chest was from the fights and not from loving you so much it physically hurt.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 28 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The breaking point had come, as these things often did, on an ordinary day.

You had both been in your apartment, having one of your regular movie nights. You were wearing old sweatpants and one of his hoodies that you had stolen years ago, there were takeout containers scattered across your coffee table, and you were arguing about whether the movie's plot made any sense.

It had been so normal, so comfortable, so perfectly you and him that something in his chest finally cracked.

Because he had realized, watching you gesture wildly about the movie's plot holes, that he had been an idiot. He had spent over two decades trying to protect you by keeping his distance, but you had been in danger this whole time anyway. Because everyone who knew him knew that you were his weakness, his soft spot, the one person who could bring the great Satoru Gojo to his knees.

And you had stayed anyway. Through every fight, every danger, every close call, you had chosen to stay in his life. You had patched his wounds, celebrated his victories, mourned his losses, and never once asked for anything in return except his friendship.

That night, he had decided tomorrow would be the day. No more waiting, no more excuses. He would finally tell you everything.

He had barely slept, spending hours picking out the perfect flowers, hoping they would help say everything his heart had been trying to tell you for years. He had practiced the words in his mirror, ran through a dozen different speeches, each one feeling more inadequate than the last.

But when he had arrived at your apartment building that morning, flowers clutched in sweaty palms and heart thundering in his chest, he had seen them through your living room window. You weren't alone. Someone else was there, someone who had made you throw your head back in laughter, who had pulled you close with an ease that made his chest constrict.

He had watched, frozen on the sidewalk, as you reached up to brush something from their cheek, the gesture so tender it had felt like a physical blow. The flowers in his hands had suddenly felt like they were made of lead.

Satoru had stood there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, watching you be happy with someone else, watching you shine so brightly for another person. Then, with movements that felt mechanical, he had dropped the flowers in a nearby trash can and walked away.

Three words, still unspoken, had burned in his throat with every step.

For weeks after that, he had thrown himself into missions like a madman, taking on the most dangerous assignments he could find. Anything to avoid thinking about how he had waited too long, how he had lost his chance.

But then you had called him one night, voice slightly slurred from wine, asking him to come over. And like always, he couldn't refuse you.

That's how he had found himself back in your apartment, watching you pace back and forth, ranting about how empty it all felt. How you had tried to move on, tried to find what everyone said you should want — a normal relationship, a simple life, someone safe.

"But it's not right," you had said, running your hands through your hair in frustration. "Nothing feels right. They're nice, they're perfect on paper, but—"

"But what?" he had asked, his heart in his throat.

"But they're not you," you had whispered, the words hanging in the air between you like suspended stars.

A movie had still been playing in the background, forgotten as you both stood there, years of unspoken feelings spilled on the floor. The weight of your confession had made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, just a moment, he had let himself imagine what it would be like to close the distance between you, to finally say the words that had lived in his heart for so long.

But then his phone had buzzed in his pocket — another threat, another reminder — and reality came crashing back.

"You can't," he had said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" You had taken a step toward him, and he had forced himself to take one back, watching hurt flash across your face. "Satoru, I've waited—"

"Then stop waiting," he had cut you off, hating himself for the way his words made you flinch. "This isn't—we can't—" A pause. "Do you know how many attempts there have been on my life this month alone? How many enemies would love to know that the great Satoru Gojo has someone he—" He had caught himself before the word 'loves' could escape. "Someone he cares about?"

"I'm not afraid—"

"Well, I am!" The words had burst from him with more force than he'd intended, making you both freeze. "I am terrified, okay? Because everyone I've ever—everyone who gets close to me ends up with a target on their back. And you—" His voice had softened despite himself. "You deserve better than that. Better than looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, better than wondering if each goodbye might be the last."

"That's not your choice to make," you had said quietly, and the resignation in your voice had been worse than anger would have been.

"Yes, it is. Because I'm the one who would have to live with it if something happened to you because of me." He had straightened his shoulders, pulled on the mask he wore for everyone else — cold, untouchable, removed. "Go back to them. Find someone normal. Someone safe. Someone who can give you the life you deserve."

"And what about what I want?"

"Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us." The words had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You had looked at him for a long moment, tears gathering in your eyes, and he had dug his nails into his palms to keep from reaching for you. Finally, you had nodded once, sharp and hurt.

"Get out."

He had turned to leave, each step feeling like he was walking through concrete. At the door, he had paused, his hand on the handle.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered, not turning around. Because if he had looked at you then, his resolve would have crumbled entirely.

The soft click of the door closing behind him had sounded like the end of everything.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 30 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Two years of carefully maintained distance had felt like an eternity. The clan's pressure had mounted with each passing month — meetings about bloodlines, about duty, about carrying on the Gojo name. His parents had finally put their foot down, presenting him with a list of "suitable" candidates from other prestigious families.

Satoru had turned it into something of an art form, really — how to be just obnoxious enough, just impossible enough, that each carefully selected partner would run screaming for the hills without him technically refusing anyone.

"This is getting ridiculous," his mother had sighed after the seventh failed meeting. "Are you going to chase away every eligible human on this earth?"

Yes, he had wanted to say. Because none of them were you.

You still texted occasionally — surface-level messages about holidays or birthdays, the kind of distant politeness that felt wrong after decades of intimacy. He had saved every message anyway, re-reading them late at night when missions left him too restless to sleep.

Your contact photo was still the same one from college, you resting your head on his shoulder, laughing at something he’d said. He couldn’t bring himself to change it.

Sometimes he'd catch glimpses of you around the city. You'd cut your hair, changed jobs, moved to a new apartment. He knew all this from the careful distance he maintained, from the reports he definitely didn't ask Ijichi to give him.

You seemed... fine. Happy, even. It was what he'd wanted, he told himself. You, safe and happy, even if it was without him.

The invitation had arrived on a Tuesday.

The envelope had been cream-colored, expensive. His name written in elegant calligraphy that had made his stomach drop before he'd even opened it. Inside, the words had blurred together, except for the ones that mattered.

You were getting married.

To someone safe. Someone normal. Someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

The invitation had sat on his coffee table for days, taunting him. He'd catch himself staring at it during his morning coffee, during late-night mission reports, during every quiet moment when his mind wasn't occupied with staying alive.

Your handwritten note had been worse than the formal invitation.

'I'd really like you to be there. Please come.'

His phone had been in his hand before he'd realized it, your number still muscle memory after all this time. The cursor had blinked at him mockingly as he'd tried to formulate a response.

'Congratulations,' he had finally typed, each letter feeling like a small death. 'I'll be there.'

Because of course he would be. He'd sit there and watch you marry someone else, would paste on a smile and give a toast if asked, would pretend his heart wasn't being ripped from his chest with every word of the ceremony.

It was what he deserved, really. He had pushed you away, had made the choice for both of you, had convinced himself it was for the best. This was the consequence of his protection, the price of keeping you safe.

He had gotten drunk that night, alone in his apartment, surrounded by the ghosts of all the words he'd never said. The three most important ones still burned in his throat, unspoken after all these years.

His phone had buzzed with your reply. 'Thank you. It means a lot.'

Four words that had somehow hurt worse than the invitation itself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day of your wedding had dawned grey and miserable, as if the weather itself was matching Satoru's mood. He'd been away on a mission until the last possible moment, taking out his frustration on cursed spirits with perhaps more violence than strictly necessary.

He had arrived at the venue late, soaked from the rain, his suit probably ruined. But he'd promised to be there, and he'd never broken a promise to you before. He wasn't about to start now, even if it killed him.

But when he had made his way inside, he'd immediately sensed the chaos inside. Hushed, worried voices had carried through the open doors. "Has anyone seen them?" "The ceremony should have started twenty minutes ago." "Check the dressing room again!"

But Satoru had known exactly where to find you.

The venue's grounds had stretched back to a small lake, and there, beneath an old maple tree whose leaves provided little shelter from the rain, you had stood. Your wedding outfit was getting steadily soaked, but you hadn't seemed to notice or care, staring out at the rippling water.

He had approached slowly, drinking in the sight of you. Even with dirt stained cloths and dripping hair, you had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Everyone's looking for you," he had said softly.

You hadn't turned around. "I know."

"Three hundred people in there wondering where you've gone."

"Three hundred and one, now that you're here." Your voice had been quiet, almost lost in the rain. "Why are you here, Satoru?"

"You invited me."

"That's not what I meant." Finally, you had turned to face him, and the look in your eyes had made his heart stutter. "Why are you really here?"

He had taken a step closer, drawn to you like gravity, like always. "You know why."

"Do I?" Your voice was so small. "Because I thought I knew, once. I thought I knew a lot of things. But then you pushed me away, told me to find someone safe, someone normal." You had gestured toward the building behind you. "Well, I did. So why are you here?"

"I—"

He had caught sight of a small cut on his cheekbone in a puddle's reflection — the one injury he hadn't healed, the one he'd kept out of habit, out of the memory of your gentle hands patching him up all those years.

Your eyes had followed his, landing on the cut. Without seeming to think about it, you had reached up, fingers ghosting over the wound like they had a thousand times before. The familiar gesture had nearly broken him.

"Don't marry them," he had whispered.

"What?"

"Don't marry them," he had whispered again. "Please."

"Why not?" The question had been barely a whisper. "Give me a reason, Satoru. One real reason why I shouldn't walk back in there and marry someone who actually wants me."

"Because—" The words had stuck in his throat, years of habit holding them back.

"I love you," he had whispered, the words falling into the rain-soaked space between you, and suddenly he could breathe again. Twenty-four years of holding back, of swallowing those words, of carrying them like stones in his chest — and now they were free, floating in the air between you like butterflies finally released from their cage.

"I love you," he had said again, stronger this time. "I've loved you since we were kids. I've loved you through every fight, every mission, every time I tried to push you away for your own good. I've loved you so long I don't remember what it feels like not to love you."

"You—" Your voice had broken. "You idiot. You're telling me this now? When there are three hundred people waiting inside? When I've spent months trying to convince myself I could love someone else?"

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry, but—"

"Shut up," you had breathed, and then you had pulled him down by his lapels and kissed him.

He had kissed you back like a drowning man finding air, like coming home after a lifetime of wandering. Your lips had been cold from the rain but soft against his, and when you had melted against him, he'd felt something in his chest finally slot into place.

Years of careful control had shattered like glass, and he had wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a surge of desperate joy. You had gasped against his mouth, and he had taken the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pouring decades of longing into it.

He had spun you around, your hands threading through his wet hair as he held you against him like he was afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. Rain had continued to fall around you, but neither of you had noticed or cared.

His hands had splayed across your back, holding you impossibly closer as he kissed you like a man starved, like he was trying to make up for every kiss he should have given you over the years.

When you had broken apart, you were both breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together as the rain continued to fall around you. Your fingers had still been twisted in his jacket, and his hand had still been cradling your face like you were something precious, something he couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

The weight of all those unspoken words, all those careful distances he'd maintained, all those moments he'd held himself back — it had all lifted away like mist in the morning sun. For the first time in twenty-four years, he had felt truly, completely free.

"You're so stupid," you had whispered, but you hadn't moved away. "There are three hundred people in there, expectations, plans, a whole life I'm supposed to—"

"Run away with me."

"What?"

"Run away with me," he had repeated, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "Right now. Let me take you anywhere you want to go. Let me spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, for every moment I was too scared to love you the way you deserved."

"Satoru—"

"I know it's selfish," he had continued, words tumbling out like he couldn't hold them back anymore. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, not after pushing you away. But I can't— I can't watch you marry someone else. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering what if, knowing I let you go without fighting for you."

You had laughed, the sound wavering between tears and joy. "You really are the most impossible man I've ever met."

"Is that a yes?"

"My parents will never forgive me."

"I'll win them over."

"The clan will be furious."

"Let them be."

"Everyone will talk."

"Let them talk." He had cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the rain and tears on your cheeks. "I don't care about any of that. I just care about you. About us. Everything else… we'll figure it out together."

"Together," you had repeated softly, like you were testing the word. "You won't push me away again? Try to protect me by leaving?"

"Never again," he had promised. "I'm done running. Done pretending I don't love you more than anything in this world. Done letting fear keep me from the only thing that's ever really mattered."

You had searched his face for a long moment, and he had let you see everything — all the love, the fear, the desperate hope he'd kept hidden for so long.

Finally, you had smiled, bright and real, the smile he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Take me away from here," you had said, and his heart had soared. "Show me what it's like when Satoru Gojo finally stops holding back."

He hadn't needed to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he had swept you into his arms, your surprised laugh warming something deep in his chest.

"What about everything inside? My things, the guests—"

"I'll send Ijichi to handle it," he had said, already walking away from the venue, from the life you'd almost had without him. "Right now, all that matters is you and me."

"And where exactly are you taking me?"

"Anywhere you want," he had promised, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Everywhere. We have a lifetime of moments to make up for, after all."

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your face against his shoulder. "I love you too, you know. In case that wasn't clear."

He had tightened his hold on you, something fierce and protective and overwhelmingly tender swelling in his chest. "Say it again."

"I love you, Satoru Gojo," you had whispered against his neck. "I always have."

As he had carried you away from the venue, the rain had finally begun to let up, sunlight breaking through the clouds. A new beginning, he had thought.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Looking back, Satoru couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. All those years wasted, all that time spent pushing you away when he could have been holding you close. He'd thought he was protecting you, but in reality, he'd just been protecting himself from the terrifying vulnerability of being truly, completely loved.

Because that's what you did — you loved him entirely, unconditionally, with a fierce devotion that still took his breath away. You loved him through the dangerous missions and the late-night emergencies, through the clan meetings and the political drama. You loved him through the nightmares and the victories, through every high and low that came with being Satoru Gojo.

Life wasn't perfect, of course. There were still threats, still enemies who thought they could use you to get to him. But they had learned, quickly and painfully, that you weren't some helpless weakness to exploit. You were his strength, his anchor, his reason for coming home safely every time.

Those old fears seemed ridiculous now. Because yes, loving him came with dangers — but you had always known that, had always chosen him anyway. And together, you were so much stronger than apart.

The clan had been furious about the wedding scandal, of course. But it was hard to maintain their anger when you handled every social situation with grace, when you proved yourself more than capable of standing beside the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Eventually, even the most traditional elders had to admit that perhaps the Gojo heir had chosen well after all.

Your old routine had shifted, evolved into something even better. Now when you patched up his wounds (the ones he still deliberately saved for you), he could kiss you afterward. When you fell asleep during movie nights, he could pull you close instead of maintaining that careful distance. When you brought him coffee during all-nighters, he could show his gratitude with more than just words.

The best part, though? The absolute best part was being able to say those three words whenever he wanted. And he said them constantly — whispered them against your skin in the morning, called them across rooms just to see you smile, breathed them into quiet moments like prayers.

"I love you" when you handed him his coffee, exactly how he liked it.

"I love you" when you rolled your eyes at his dramatic entrances.

"I love you" when you fell asleep on his shoulder during clan meetings.

"I love you" when you patched up injuries that didn't need patching.

"I love you" for no reason at all, just because he could, just because the words had lived in his heart for so long that letting them free still felt like a miracle.

And every time — every single time — you said it back, like you'd been waiting just as long to be able to say it freely.

Sometimes, on quiet nights when you were both home safe, he'd watch you doing something mundane — reading a book, making tea, existing in his space like you'd always belonged there — and the gratitude would hit him so hard he could barely breathe. Gratitude that you had waited, that you had loved him through his fears and his mistakes, that you had given him the chance to love you properly.

Because that's what he did now — loved you properly, openly, with everything he had. No more holding back, no more careful distance. He loved you the way you deserved to be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally.

And every day, for the rest of his life, he made sure you knew it. Three words, eight letters, repeated like a promise, like a prayer, like the most important truth he'd ever known.

I love you.

And every day, for the rest of your life, you said it back.

author's note — after editing this, i realised it's more angsty then intended but oh my i'm sorry, i can't help it. but i hope it made you smile anyway. thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read this story. your support means the world to me. in these challenging times, please remember that even the darkest nights eventually give way to dawn. sending lots of love your way <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[eddiesxangel]

Could i request eddie eating out the reader where shes on top and he loves absolutely smothering himself in her pussy, he loves it messy and hes gripping/massaging her ass so she cant move away, shes trembling and folded over, gripping the sheets and he loves that shes desperately rubbing her cunt on his face

I always think about early stages of a relationship with eddie when all of their friends are like "have you done it yet? Whats he like?" reader and eddie are flustered by the memories and the sound complaints because theyre addicted to each other

I kinda love the idea of eddie gloating to the boys about his sex life, not necessarily sharing private details but always praising reader and her body/skills n theyre all jealous 🤭

“Excuse me but what is that?!” Nancy points to your neck.

You thought that the dim lights of the bar and your high neck shirt would do the trick to cover the enormous hickey Eddie had left but alas, you were mistaken.

“Straightening iron burn” your hand shoots up to cover the evidence.

“You don’t own a straightener…” Robin squinted her eyes at you in question.

You look around nervously before you cave. You couldn’t lie to your friends, you were about embarrassed but also needed to tell them everything….

*********

“Dude what the fuck was up with you and y/n last night.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie shoves his face with the burger he ordered.

“I couldn’t fucking sleep because it sounded like you were eating her alive.” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“Sure was” Eddie smirks smugly.

“Not what I meant dude.” Gareth cringed.

“You’re just jealous because I’m having the best sex of my life. ” Eddie’s chuckles.

“The best sex of your life, huh?” Jeff pipes up.

“You have no idea man, I can’t keep my hands off her, her pussy has like magical powers or something.” He leans back in his chair remmebering last night….

*********

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!!” You chant, forgetting about keeping quiet for the sake of Eddie’s roommate.

You’re pussy was hovering over your boyfriends face as he insisted you sit on him. His fingers gripped into your plush hips as he pulls you down so your weight was resting on his face.

The way his tongue was flicking your clit was sinful. He was consuming you. Your pussy juices were covering his whole chin and upper lip. Your sent was consuming his nostrils while your taste was consuming his mouth. Eddie was addicted to you. You’re like a drug, the more he has the more he wants.

“Come on baby, I wanna taste you cuming on my tongue.” He speaks into your pussy and it sends a shockwave of pleasure through you.

“God s’good” you slur, unable to think about anything else.

What sends you over the ends is the sharp smack to your ass Eddie gives your before palming it with his large hand.

Your body quivers with ecstasy and Eddie continues the assault on your clit. He be damned if we were to stop now. It’s so much but you can’t help but grind your hips in his face. Your pussy catches his nose and chin and it only feels that much more erotic.

He wanted more, he was so greedy for you, all of you. He wanted to make you feel good, your pleasure was more important than his. He was obsessed, consumed, and in love.

“Come on baby, give me one more”

“Baby-no, I want you inside me, fuck me please!”

“Please baby one more your pussy tastes so good.”

“Oh-okay” you stuttered.

With your permission Eddie is lapping at you even faster than before, your sensitive clit was throbbing; you wanted to cum so badly once again.

“Can’t hold it!” You cry. Your hands landing infront of you on the headboard. Your gripping on for dear life as Eddie’s fingers slip up side your cunt, pumping in and out as he sits your most sensitive spot.

“Come.” Eddie demands and you can’t help but obey.

Again he laps up everything you give before gently lifting you up off his face and he inhales a deep breath.

“I could have killed you!”

“What a way to go darlin’ ” he smiles and you can’t help but roll your eyes and you also can’t help but want to kiss him.

He’s everything you want and you want him now. So you spread your legs wide, enticing and inviting him in. You want him so bad you can’t stand the separation you’re going through now.

“Eddie please, fuck me.” You don’t even recognize your needy voice but as Eddie watches your hands roam your body, kneading your breasts and your fingers running along your pussy folds he can’t stand it either.

“Please I want you so bad, I need you baby, I need you”

“Shhhh, I’m here baby, going to fuck you so good with this cock.”

“Please, that’s all I want!”

“I got you baby, you ready for me?”

“More than ready” you pant.

When Eddie finally slips it in your head spins. Nothing will ever compare to the way he fills you. Maybe it’s because it’s new, maybe it’s because you’re both so in love, or maybe it’s because he’s the best sex you e ever had but why didn’t matter. The way he fuck is you is animalistic, it’s messy, it’s passionate, and it’s fuelled by lust and love.

Never has Eddie ever felt this way when it came to sex before. No other person made him so feral he does everything in his power to please you.

“Your fucking pussy is so pretty when she takes my cock. You should see for yourself darlin’ sucking me in so good.”

You loved when Eddie talked dirty to you, it’s only made it that much more enjoyable.

You grab Eddie by the back of the neck pulling him down towards your mouth so you could kiss him. You loved kissing while fucking, especially when it was sloppy. His taste mixed with yours was your favourite flavour in the world.

As Eddie hips slapped into yours you start to lose it. The incoherent begging and mumbling, your brain feeling goofy from the pleasure he brought you, Eddie was your everything.

“I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet baby, not yet.”

“Please, I want it so bad please!”

“Almost there, come on. Hold it for me.”

“Eddie!”

His cock brushed that ultra sensitive spot within you each time his cock pounded into you and you tired to hard to obey but your body betrays you. The way Eddie fucks you is too much, too strong for you to take.

“Imcumingimcuminimcuming!” You babble.

“Fuuuuuuck” Eddie can feel your pussy seizing down tightly on his throbbing cock.

*********

“So how did you get that?” Nancy wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“What do you mean how? Eddie follows her around like a lost puppy. He looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars.”

“Oh he dose not” you blush. But she was right he dose.

“Well he dose” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay I know what but like? Is he any good?” Nancy wrinkles her nose.

“Oh my god best I’ve ever had! I think he enjoys going down on me than I do.” You giggle. “He wouldn’t stop until I came twice then he ducked me so good I think I blacked out!”

“Gross” Robin chuckles.

“You asked!”

“No, Nancy did.” She laughs. “Who would have thought that Munson had that in him,”

“That and more” you sit back in your chair dreaming about going back to Eddie’s tonight.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : UNTIL THE END : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x Old!F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Angst. Straight up angst

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Major Character Death, Grief and Loss, Emotional Distress, Themes of Loneliness, Angst

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: One thing about not growing old, is seeing your loves ones die. Or rather, you pass away in Logan's arms from old age, despite his desperate pleas for you to stay. As you slip away peacefully, Logan is left devastated, forced to endure the pain of immortality without you by his side.

THE AIR WAS THICK WITH THE SCENT OF PINE, the distant howling wind gently brushing through the broken windows of the cabin. It was a small place, hidden deep in the wilderness, away from the chaos of the world. For years, it had been a sanctuary, a place for quiet moments, and the life you had built alongside Logan. But time had a way of catching up, even in the deepest woods, and now... you could feel it slipping away.

You lay in bed, wrapped in an old quilt, the weight of your own frailty pressing against your chest. Each breath was a struggle, shallow and painful. The once strong hands that used to wield weapons and patch up Logan after every brutal fight now trembled with age. You had always been his anchor, the one person who could calm the storm that raged inside him. But now, it felt as though the storm was about to outlast you.

He sat beside you, his rugged face etched with lines of grief that mirrored his age. His rough, calloused hand gently held yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you in these last moments. His eyes, those fierce, stormy eyes that had seen centuries of bloodshed and sorrow, softened as they locked onto yours.

“I don’t want you to go,” Logan’s voice broke, raw and uneven. His other hand, trembling despite his strength, brushed a strand of your gray hair away from your face.

You gave him a weak smile, a small attempt at comforting him, even as your body betrayed you. “Logan… I’ve lived a long life. Longer than I ever imagined.” Your voice was raspy, the effort to speak draining the little energy you had left. “You’ve kept me safe, kept me loved. That’s more than I could have asked for.”

His grip tightened around your hand as though he could hold you here through sheer willpower alone. But he knew better. The world had taken too much from him already. Every friend, every lover, every semblance of family—gone. You had been the last piece of goodness he’d managed to hold onto in a life soaked with violence. You were the one who made him feel human again. And now… even you were slipping through his fingers.

“Please,” Logan’s voice cracked, breaking through the tough exterior he always tried to hold. His heart was in his throat. “Don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t lose you too.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the weariness pulling you under. The darkness was so tempting, so peaceful, but you forced yourself to stay with him a little longer. Just a little longer.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “You were always so strong… so stubborn. You’ll… you’ll be okay without me.”

He shook his head violently, anger and sorrow mixing in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “I won’t,” he growled. “You don’t get it. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had.” His voice grew softer, broken. “Don’t leave me here alone.”

Your heart ached, not from the physical pain, but from the sorrow in his voice. You wanted to stay, wanted to tell him everything would be okay. But you both knew better. There was no stopping this. Death was as relentless as time.

“I’m tired, Logan,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a sigh now. Your hand slipped from his, and he immediately caught it again, holding onto it as though it were his lifeline. “I’ll always be with you… right here.” You reached up slowly, painfully, placing your hand over his chest, feeling the solid, familiar beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan lowered his head, his forehead resting against yours as he clutched your hand to his chest. His breath was hot against your skin, ragged and filled with grief.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this without you,” he whispered, his words filled with the weight of centuries of loneliness. He’d been alone before—he knew that life all too well. But the thought of returning to that now, after knowing the warmth of you, felt unbearable.

“I know you do,” you murmured, your voice fading as you blinked up at him, your vision swimming. “You’ve… always been stronger than you know.” You offered him a small smile, though it was weak, more of a ghost of the expression that used to light up his world. “I’ll be waiting… somewhere… someday.”

His breath hitched, and he held you tighter, his hand cupping your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your tired eyes. “You’ll wait for me?” His voice was hoarse, desperate.

You nodded, your eyes drifting shut. “Always…” you whispered. “I’ll be… right… here…”

Your breath stilled. The weight of your hand went limp in his, and your chest no longer rose or fell.

“No,” Logan choked, his voice shattering in the silence of the room. “No, no, no… please…”

He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair, trying to will you back to life, trying to make time stop. His breath came in ragged, broken sobs as he held you to his chest, the weight of his immortality pressing down on him like a curse.

“I can’t do this without you,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice shaking, his chest hollow and aching. “Come back… please… come back…”

But the only response was the cold silence of the room, the echo of his words fading into the emptiness.

And there, in that small cabin in the woods, Logan held you, the woman he loved more than anything, his heart breaking as the storm inside him raged on, relentless and unforgiving.

He was alone. Again.

And this time, the pain felt like it would never end.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! 🫶

Also who needs therapy after reading this? Because i DEFINITELY need it after writing this

[mononijikayu]

devotion — geto suguru.

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.” You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.” He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about your illness.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, fluff, forbidden romance, love, hurt/comfort, nsfw, r-18, smut, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, falling in love again, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, religious guilt, happy ending, aged up characters (suguru and reader are in their 40s), first loves rekindling their relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of religious aspects, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of previous husband, father! suguru, widowed! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: i was thinking whether or not this is what i should publish for kinktober but i feel like since i've been going on this trend of giving my stories a happy ending, i feel like this is one of them that deserves it, i feel. this is the sequel of 'to build a home'!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! and love wins all, even time!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip!

══════════════════

YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU’D SEE HIM AGAIN. But you were getting too ahead of destiny. It has been nearly twenty years since you last saw Geto Suguru. Time had blurred the details of his face in your memory — the precise shape of his smile, the warmth in his eyes when he spoke your name.

You thought you’d forgotten him, buried him under the weight of all those years. But there he was, standing at the front of the room, his voice steady and serene as he read the eulogy for your husband. 

You tried to focus on the words, tried to let them seep into your soul and cradle your grief. But all you could see was him. The lines on his face had deepened, a touch of gray in his hair, but he was still so achingly familiar. You could feel the stirrings of something old and hidden, something you thought you’d buried long ago.

You felt guilty. This was the day you were supposed to mourn your husband, to remember all the good moments you had shared. But as you sat there, dressed in black, your gaze kept drifting back to Suguru. How strange it was to see him like this — a priest, of all things. You wondered what had led him down this path, what had happened in those years you hadn’t been a part of his life.

His voice was calm and soothing, and it reminded you of the way he used to speak when you were alone together. You found yourself holding your breath, the memories coming back like an unexpected wave. The nights you spent talking until dawn, the feel of his hand in yours, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to you like a desperate whisper.

You were grieving, yes, but somehow those old feelings resurface, like they had been waiting all this time, just beneath the surface. It was wrong, you knew it, but there was something in the way Suguru spoke, in the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, that made it feel like maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be. 

And as the service drew to a close, you wondered if he felt it too.

As the ceremony ended, the quiet murmur of condolences filled the room, but you barely heard them. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of sorrow and anticipation you couldn't quite understand. People passed by, offering their sympathy, their touches gentle on your arm, but your eyes were on him. Suguru stood at the front, still dressed in his somber robes, speaking with a few guests, his expression kind and composed, but you saw the moment he noticed you watching.

He paused, his words faltering for just a second, and then his gaze found yours. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to fall away, and there was only the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a great chasm of time. You felt rooted in place, as if moving would shatter whatever fragile connection had formed between you across the room.

When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, your steps were slow and tentative. He turned to face you fully, his hands clasped in front of him, and for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked, and yet, how much the same. The years had softened his edges, but his eyes — those deep, searching eyes — were just as intense, just as familiar.

“Suguru,” you breathed, unsure what else to say. His name felt foreign on your lips after so long, but also strangely comforting. He gave a small, sad smile, the kind that spoke of understanding beyond words.

“It’s been a long time,” he replied, his voice a quiet murmur, almost swallowed by the room’s low hum. There was a gravity to his tone that made your chest tighten, as if he was trying to convey all the things that had gone unsaid in the years between you.

You nodded, feeling the sting of tears you had not expected. “I never thought I’d see you like this,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know you… became our little town’s priest.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was both strange and familiar, and something in it warmed you. “Life has a way of leading us to unexpected places,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t expect to see you here either… under these circumstances.”

You flinched, a fresh wave of grief washing over you. “No, I suppose not,” you whispered. “But it is good to see you, even now. Even… like this.”

He nodded, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was filled with all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how. You could feel the years stretching between you like a bridge you were both afraid to cross.

“You look…” he started, then faltered, his gaze sweeping over your face. “You look just as I remember, even after all these years.”

You laughed softly, a sound tinged with both sorrow and disbelief. “I doubt that,” you replied, shaking your head. “It’s been a long time. We’ve both changed.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice soft. “But some things don’t change. Some things stay with you, no matter how much time passes.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Was he talking about you? About whatever you once had? You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, caught between your grief and the unexpected flood of emotions his presence had stirred.

Instead, you simply stood there, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, feeling that old, familiar ache that you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying all these years. And when he reached out, his hand hovering just above yours, you found yourself closing the distance, your fingers brushing against his in a touch that felt like both a question and an answer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he said, his voice low, filled with a sincerity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I truly am.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. You didn’t know if you were thanking him for the words, or for being here, or for just being him.

You cleared your throat, a delicate sound breaking the tension between you. Your heart still aches from the loss, but there was a strange comfort in his presence, a familiarity that felt almost like a balm. You glanced to your side, where your daughter stood, her small hand gripping yours tightly. She looked up at you, her young face a mix of confusion and sorrow, her eyes still red from crying.

For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there like two ghosts caught in the past. But in his eyes, you saw something flicker — a spark of recognition, of something that had never really gone away. And as the room began to empty, you knew this was not the end. Not quite. Not yet.

“This is my daughter, father.” you said softly, turning to Suguru. “Say hello, sweetheart.”

Your daughter hesitated for a moment, still clinging to you, but eventually she offered a shy smile. “Hello.” she whispered, her voice small and uncertain.

Suguru’s expression softened as he crouched down to her level, his eyes gentle. “Hello there, child.” He greeted me warmly, his tone light. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Father Suguru.”

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide what to make of this stranger who seemed to know her mother so well. But Suguru had always been good with children, you remembered. There was a kindness in his demeanor that drew them in. After a moment, she nodded, accepting his presence with the solemnity only a child could muster at such a moment.

“You’ve grown up so much.” Suguru said, his gaze shifting back to you, and there was something tender in the way he looked at you, a flicker of an old memory shared between you.

Before you could respond, two young girls approached from behind him, their eyes wide with curiosity. They looked almost identical, with long dark hair and matching dresses, and they stood close together, their hands clasped as if seeking comfort from one another. You noticed the way they watched Suguru, their eyes full of trust and affection.

“These are my girls.” Suguru said, smiling gently. “Mimiko and Nanako. I adopted them some years ago. They were… lost, in a way, and I thought I could offer them something of a home.”

You felt a pang of recognition in your chest, understanding without needing to ask. He had always had a soft spot for the vulnerable, a quiet compassion that was buried beneath his strength. The girls looked up at you, curious and shy, and you gave them a gentle smile.

“Hello, Mimiko. Hello, Nanako.” you said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

They glanced at each other, and then Mimiko, the braver of the two, stepped forward. “Are you our father’s friend?” she asked, her voice small but direct. There was something almost protective in the way she looked at you, as if she was gauging whether you were worthy of her father’s trust.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. A friend? Were you even that anymore? You wanted to say something else in the back of your mind. You were more than friends, you were lovers. You were everything to each other. Yet you couldn’t. Your lips would not move. But before you could find the right words, Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“We used to be….close. We met each other a long time ago,” he answered for you, his gaze never leaving yours. “But we finally met again today, it would seem.”

Nanako, still holding Mimiko’s hand, tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why did you stop?” she asked innocently.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, a thousand unspoken answers rising to your lips. How could you explain? How could you sum up all the lost years, the paths that had diverged, the choices that had led you here, to this moment? 

Suguru turned to his daughters, his smile soft but tinged with a hint of sadness. “Sometimes life takes us in different directions, my dear.” he said gently. “But it doesn’t mean we stop caring about the people we once knew.”

Mimiko seemed satisfied with this answer, but Nanako continued to watch you, as if trying to see into your soul. You could feel the weight of her gaze, but there was no malice in it, only a child’s unfiltered curiosity.

“I’m sorry…..” you said, addressing Suguru again, though your eyes flicked briefly to the girls. “For all the years we lost. I… I didn’t mean for it to be that way.”

He shook his head, a soft smile touching his lips. “Don’t apologize to me about it.” he replied. “We did what we had to do, back then. But it’s good to see you now, and… to see the life you’ve built.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “It’s good to see you too, Suguru.” you whispered. “And to your girls too.”

He nodded, his gaze holding yours, and for a moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, just slightly. You weren’t sure where this would lead, if anywhere at all. But you knew that something had shifted, something had opened between you, a door long closed but never quite locked. And maybe, just maybe, there was room to step through, to find out what lay on the other side.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT IN YOU TO LEAVE THE HOUSE FOR A WHILE. The days had grown longer since the funeral, each one stretching into the next with a quiet emptiness you hadn’t anticipated.

The house, once filled with the familiar rhythms of your husband’s presence, now seemed to echo with a silence that settled deep in your bones. To stave off the hollow ache that threatened to consume you, you kept yourself busy — perhaps too busy. 

You tended to your garden with a fervor that bordered on obsession, your hands constantly stained with earth, fingers rooting through the soil as if searching for something buried there, something that might fill the void.

The roses were blooming better than ever, their petals full and lush, as if they knew how much you needed them now. Your days blurred together in the quiet sanctuary of your backyard, kneeling among the flowers until the sun dipped below the horizon.

When you weren’t in the garden, you took your dogs for long, meandering walks. They were your faithful companions, sensing your grief in their quiet, unspoken way. You found solace in their steady presence, in the rhythm of their paws on the pavement, and the way they’d look back at you, as if making sure you were still there, still moving forward.

But your daughter, ever perceptive, noticed the way your days seemed to stretch out like a taut wire, threatening to snap. She was packing for college now, her room in disarray, and you could see the worry creasing her brow every time she glanced your way. 

One evening, as you sat together at the kitchen table, your daughter set down the book she’d been pretending to read and looked at you with a seriousness that caught you off guard.

“Mom.... I.... uh…..” she began, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been thinking… about when I leave.”

You forced a smile, trying to keep your tone light. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ve got the garden, the dogs… plenty to keep me busy.”

She shook her head, her expression earnest. “That’s just it, though. I don’t want you to be just… keeping busy. I want you to have people around you. Friends. People to talk to.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I have friends,” you insisted gently, though you knew what she was getting at.

“Not like that,” she countered, shaking her head. “I mean… I want you to have new friends. I know this has been hard on you, losing Dad. And I just… I worry about you being lonely when I’m gone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a familiar sensation these days. “I’ll manage,” you murmured, but she wasn’t deterred.

“What about Father Suguru?” she asked, and you blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected her to bring him up, not after the funeral, not after everything that had been left unspoken between you and the priest who had once been so much more.

“What about him?” you asked cautiously.

“He seems… nice.” she said, hesitating for a moment. “And you used to know him, right? Before Dad, before everything. Why not… reconnect with him? I mean, he invited you to church activities, didn’t he?”

You looked down at your hands, feeling a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know… It feels strange, after all these years.”

“Maybe…..” she conceded. “But he’s reaching out, and I think it might be good for you. You don’t have to do it alone, you know? And it might help… to have someone around who understands.”

You looked up at her, seeing the concern etched in her young face, the worry that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. She was right, of course — the house was too big and too quiet, and the days too long. And perhaps, she had a point. Perhaps there was something to be said for reaching out, for finding solace in old friendships, even if they had been left behind in another life.

“I’ll think about it.” you finally said, offering her a small smile.

She reached out, taking your hand. “Just try, Mom. For me. I just want you to be happy… to find some peace.”

You nodded, feeling a tightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’ll try.” you promised, though the words felt heavier than you expected.

That Sunday, you found yourself standing outside the church, the morning sun casting long shadows on the stone steps. You hesitated, your heart thudding in your chest, but then you saw him — Suguru, standing by the entrance, greeting the parishioners as they arrived. His face brightened when he saw you, and he raised a hand in a small, almost tentative wave.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward him, feeling the weight of the years between you like a whisper in the air. But as you drew closer, you felt something lift, something small but hopeful, as if maybe — just maybe — there was still room for new beginnings, even now.

Suguru’s smile widened as you approached, a gentle warmth radiating from him that eased some of the tension winding tight in your chest. He was dressed simply, in a way that suited him, with the plain black shirt and collar of his vocation. Yet, there was an ease in his posture, an openness that seemed to welcome you without hesitation. 

“Good morning.” he greeted softly, his voice carrying a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad to see you here.”

You returned his smile, though it felt a bit shaky on your lips. “I… thought I’d take you up on your invitation.” you replied, your words feeling tentative, almost shy. “My daughter encouraged me to come.”

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “She’s a wise young woman.” he said, his tone light. “I’m sure she just wants you to have some company, some… support.”

“I think she worries about me.” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “And she’s right. The house is quiet. Too quiet, sometimes.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “I understand,” he murmured. “More than you know. It’s easy to feel lost in the silence after everything changes. But… you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You felt your heart ache at the kindness in his words, at the understanding he offered so freely. “Thank you.” you whispered. “It’s… been hard. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Suguru’s gaze held yours, steady and patient. “Grief has a way of sneaking up on us when we least expect it.” he said softly. “But you’re here now. And that’s something. You’ve taken a step.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I suppose I have.”

He gestured toward the entrance of the church, where people were beginning to gather, a soft hum of conversation filling the air. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “We’re having a small gathering after the service — just some coffee and a chance to chat. I think you might enjoy it.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of uncertainty heavy on your shoulders. But there was a sincerity in Suguru’s eyes, a quiet encouragement that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“I think I’d like that.” you said finally, your voice is firmer than before. “I could use a bit of company.”

His smile grew, genuine and warm. “Good.” he said, stepping back to let you pass. “I’ll be right by your side if you need anything. And I’m sure there are plenty of people here who would love to meet you.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately enveloped by the soft glow of the stained glass windows, the warm, golden light casting colorful patterns across the pews. The room was filled with the low murmur of conversation, and you felt a flutter of anxiety in your chest. But Suguru was beside you, his presence steadying, and somehow that made it easier.

He introduced you to a few members of the congregation — older women with kind smiles, younger families with children who clung shyly to their parents’ legs. You exchanged polite pleasantries, feeling a bit like a fish out of water, but everyone was welcoming, their warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that had filled your days.

After the service, as promised, there was coffee and tea in the small parish hall. You found yourself standing beside Suguru as he chatted easily with a group of parishioners, his voice calm and comforting, his laugh a soft rumble that seemed to put everyone at ease. You watched him from the corner of your eye, still marveling at the way he had changed and yet stayed so much the same.

At some point, Mimiko and Nanako found their way to your side, their small hands tugging on the hem of your jacket. “Are you going to be our friend too?” Mimiko asked, her eyes wide with hope.

You smiled down at her, your heart softening at her earnest expression. “I’d like that very much, if you would allow me.” you replied, and she beamed, satisfied with your answer.

Nanako, quieter but just as curious, looked up at you with a small smile. “Papa says you used to be his best friend.” she said matter-of-factly.

Suguru chuckled softly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “Children are so honest, aren’t they?” he murmured.

You laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t felt in months. “Yes.” you agreed, looking at him. “They are.”

Your conversation flowed, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease, the heaviness in your chest lifting, if only just a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And as you stood there, surrounded by new faces and old memories, you realized that maybe your daughter had been right.

Maybe this was what you needed. Not to forget your grief, but to find a way to live with it, to let it become a part of you without letting it define you. And perhaps, with Suguru beside you, with new connections to explore, you could start to build something new from the ashes of what you had lost.

You caught Suguru’s eye again, and he offered you a small, understanding smile, as if sensing the shift within you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt something like hope.

══════════════════

TIME WITH SUGURU HEALED YOU. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time at the church. It had started with Sunday services and slowly expanded to weekday gatherings — a book club here, a community dinner there, little things that filled the empty spaces in your days.

Geto Suguru was always there, a quiet, steady presence. He was kind, attentive without being overbearing, and somehow, being around him made things feel just a bit lighter.

Your daughter noticed the change in you when she came home from college for the weekend. She saw the way your smile reached your eyes again, the way you seemed less burdened, and she was pleased.

“I knew you’d find someone to talk to, mom.” she said with a grin, her voice teasing. “Father Suguru is nice, isn’t he?”

You blushed at the mention of his name, feeling a strange mix of guilt and warmth. “He’s… he’s been very kind to me.” you replied. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to, that’s all.”

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Slowly, gently, you and Suguru had begun to fall into the rhythm of your old friendship, but there was something new simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken that neither of you dared to name.

You felt it in the way his eyes lingered just a little too long when he looked at you, in the way your hand brushed his in passing and lingered a moment too long. There was a magnetic pull between you, a quiet longing that seemed to grow with every passing day.

And yet, there was a line you both knew you could not cross.

Suguru never spoke of it, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he caught himself when he stood too close or when his hand brushed yours in a way that felt almost… intentional.

He would smile, pull back, and busy himself with something else, as if to remind himself of the boundaries he could not breach. You could sense the struggle within him, the way he tried so hard to remain the devoted priest, the man who had chosen a life of service and sacrifice.

It was during a rainy afternoon, after a small charity event at the church, you found yourself in his office, helping him sort through donations. The rain pattered softly against the windows, casting a muted glow over the room.

You were both seated on the floor, sorting through clothes and toys, when your hands brushed again. This time, neither of you pulled away. Geto Suguru’s breath caught in his throat, and you felt your heart race in response. The air between you grew thick, charged with an energy you could no longer ignore.

He looked up at you, his expression conflicted, torn between the desire you both felt and the commitment he had made. “I shouldn’t…” he began softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” you replied just as quietly. “I know it’s… complicated.”

Suguru’s eyes searched yours, as if looking for something — some kind of understanding, or perhaps, absolution. “I’ve… I’ve given my life to this.” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. “To the church, to God. I made a vow.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you whispered. “I don’t want you to have to choose.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s not that simple.” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. “I… I made that vow because I had to. Because I felt it was the only way I could atone for something. Something I never told you.”

You blinked, confused. “Atone? For what?”

He hesitated, the struggle evident in his eyes. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “I became a priest because… because I thought it might save you when you got in that accident.” he said, his words barely more than a breath.

You held your breath for a moment. You don’t know how you were going to deal with what he might say to you. What truths may come out.  What can you say, what can you say and do after all these years? He'd hidden all that, he'd kept his silence for more than twenty years and you don't know what to do. 

“What do you mean to say?”

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.”

You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.”

He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about what happened.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. “You did that… for me?”

He nodded, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “I did. And I couldn’t break that promise, not when He answered me. I couldn’t… I still can’t. Not like this.”

A lump formed in your throat as you realized the depth of his sacrifice, the weight of the promise he had made. “Suguru, I… I don’t know what to say.” you whispered, feeling a mix of gratitude, sorrow, and something else — something deeper, more complicated.

He reached for your hand then, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t have to say anything, okay?” he replied softly. “I just… I needed you to know. I need you to understand why I can’t… why can't……..”

You nodded, tears blurring your vision. “I understand.” you said, your voice breaking. “I won’t ask you to break your vow. I just… I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He squeezed your hand, his expression pained but resolute. “You won’t.” he promised. “Not as long as I can help it. But we have to be careful. We have to… to find a way to be friends again, without… without crossing that line.”

You nodded again, swallowing back the tears. “I can do that.” you said quietly. “I can try.”

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP UNDERSTAND WHAT TO FEEL.The days after your confession were a blur of forced distance and unspoken words. Every time you passed by his office or saw him in the hallways, there was a tension, a gravity that threatened to pull you back in. But you resisted, reminding yourself of the vow he had made and the reasons why you had to keep your distance.

His promise was not something to take lightly. You knew that, and so did he. There were obligations, personal codes, things he held dear, and breaking them meant more than just a fleeting moment of passion. It meant betrayal — to himself and to the values he had sworn to uphold. You couldn’t be the reason he wavered, no matter how much your heart ached with the memory of that moment in his office.

The memory haunted you. The way his eyes softened when you spoke, how his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his lips parted, ready to say something that never came. It was both a promise and a plea, something unspoken but understood between the two of you. Yet, you knew it couldn’t be.

So you did what you thought was best. You put distance between you, told yourself it was the only way to keep things under control. You busied yourself with anything and everything, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that grew heavier each day. But it wasn’t just you who pulled back.

He, too, kept his distance, his demeanor cool and composed, almost like nothing had ever happened. But there were cracks — moments when his eyes would meet yours across a crowded room, moments when his voice would catch ever so slightly when speaking to you.

In those moments, you wondered if he was feeling the same pull, the same struggle to keep his distance. Was it difficult for him too? Did he regret the way things were left, or was he relieved that you had taken the initiative to step back?

Despite the pain of staying away, you told yourself it was for the best. It was the right thing to do, even though every fiber of your being wanted to run back to him, to let yourself fall into whatever this was between you. But you couldn’t — you wouldn’t be the reason he broke his vow. Because as much as you longed for him, you respected him more.

Still, late at night, when you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but wonder: What if? What if you hadn’t walked away that day? What if he had been the one to break the distance? The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you with a bittersweet longing that neither distance nor time could seem to quiet.

But the distance only seemed to make things worse.

At first, it was easy enough to stay away. You busied yourself with gardening, taking the dogs for longer walks, filling your days with mundane chores and errands. But the quiet nights were harder.

Your thoughts would drift back to Suguru — to the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke your name. You’d catch yourself imagining the brush of his hand against yours, the warmth of his body close to yours, the way he had leaned in just a bit too close, as if he might kiss you if only for a second. 

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He was a priest. He had made a choice, a vow, and you respected that. But the more you tried to push those thoughts away, the more they seemed to creep in, filling the quiet spaces of your mind.

Suguru was struggling too. He tried to focus on his duties, on the congregation, on the children who relied on him. He threw himself into his work with a fervor that bordered on obsession, trying to drown out the thoughts of you that seemed to linger no matter how hard he prayed.

But late at night, alone in his quarters, he found himself thinking of you. Of your laugh, your smile, the way you had looked at him in his office, your eyes filled with understanding, with something deeper that had taken root in his chest and refused to let go.

He would close his eyes and imagine what it would feel like to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, to taste your lips, to feel the heat of your skin against his. He hated himself for it, for the desire that surged through him like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep him away from everything he had promised to uphold. He’d kneel by his bed, his forehead pressed against his clasped hands, and pray for strength, for guidance, for something — anything — to take this longing away.

But the longing only grew.

One evening, as you sat on your porch, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the garden, you felt the ache of loneliness settle deep in your bones.

You had spent the day trying to distract yourself, but nothing seemed to help. Every thought circled back to Suguru, to the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You found yourself wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you too, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Without really meaning to, you reached for your phone. You typed out a message, then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted that too. You sighed, setting the phone aside, telling yourself to stop, to let it go. But your hand hovered over the screen, and before you knew it, you were calling his number.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice came through, soft and uncertain. “Hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hi.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I hope I’m not bothering you.”

There was a pause, and you could hear the hesitation in his breath. “No.” he replied finally, his voice gentle. “You’re not bothering me.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “I just… I wanted to see how you were.” you admitted. “It’s been a while.”

He let out a soft sigh, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It has.” he agreed. “I’ve… missed you.”

You closed your eyes, the words sinking into your skin like a balm. “I’ve missed you too.” you confessed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’ve been trying to stay away, but… it’s harder than I thought.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of a chair. “I’ve been trying too.” he admitted, his voice strained. “But it’s… it’s not easy.”

There was something in his tone, a rough edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Suguru…….” you whispered, your heart pounding. “What are we going to do?”

He let out a breath, and you could feel the weight of his struggle, the battle raging within him. “I don’t know....." he replied honestly. “I’ve been praying for guidance, for… for something to help me make sense of this. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the honesty of it slicing through you like a knife. “I… I feel the same.” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… about what it would feel like to…”

The words were right there, lingering on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too potent, too dangerous to release. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening, your heart pounding in your chest as you stood there, teetering on the edge of a confession you weren't ready to make.

You wanted to say it, to let it all out — the weight of your feelings, the yearning that had grown over time, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop feeling for him. But the moment felt too fragile, too charged. One wrong word and the delicate balance you both had maintained for so long would shatter. And so, you trailed off, your voice faltering, the unsaid hanging thick between you.

But he knew. The air in the room seemed to shift, charged with a tension that neither of you could deny. You could hear it in his breathing, the way it hitched, just for a moment, as if he was caught off guard by the depth of what you almost said. His chest rose and fell with a newfound heaviness, each breath more labored than the last, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

He didn’t look at you right away, as if turning to face you would confirm everything — the longing, the hesitation, the unspoken desires that had been building between you both for far too long. But when he finally spoke, his voice trembled, a slight quiver beneath his usual steady tone. It wasn’t much, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, it was everything.

It was proof that he understood that he was feeling the same thing you were, even if neither of you could fully articulate it. His words, whatever they were, seemed like an afterthought, just filler to mask the emotions surging beneath the surface. Yet, the tremor in his voice betrayed him, and for a moment, you wondered if he would be the one to break first.

But he didn’t. Instead, you both stood there, suspended in the weight of your silence, the unspoken words pressing against your lips like a dam about to break. You could feel the heat of his presence, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving an inch. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to hear, but neither of you dared cross that invisible line.

Even though nothing was said aloud, the room felt full — full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit, full of everything he had already understood. The weight of it pressed on you, thick and heavy, and you realized that sometimes, words weren’t necessary. Sometimes, the silence, the shared breath, the trembling voice, said everything that needed to be said.

And in that moment, you both knew.

“I know.” he whispered, his voice raw with need. “I’ve thought about it too. More than I should.”

Your heart raced, a flush spreading over your skin as the heat of his words washed over you. “Maybe… maybe we could just see each other.” you suggested tentatively. “Just… just to talk. Nothing more.”

He hesitated, and you could feel the conflict in his silence. But then he spoke, his voice thick with longing. “Just to talk, like back then....” he agreed. “But… if it becomes too much…”

“I’ll leave.” you promised. “I don’t want to make things harder for you. I just… I just need to see you.”

He sighed, a sound of both relief and resignation. “Okay……” he said softly. “Come to the church tomorrow. After the evening service. We can… we can talk.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, your heart racing with anticipation, with fear, with desire.

“Okay.” you whispered. “Tomorrow.”

When the call ended, you felt a strange mix of emotions — excitement, anxiety, a deep, pulsing need that you couldn’t ignore. You told yourself it would just be a conversation, just a chance to clear the air, to find some semblance of peace in this storm. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing between you and Geto Suguru had ever been simple.

And as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you wondered what tomorrow would bring, and whether you’d have the strength to resist the pull that had only grown stronger with every moment you spent apart.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT WHAT TO DO. The next evening arrived like a cold weight pressing on your chest. You stood outside the church, your clothes soaked through as the rain beat down relentlessly, its bitter chill sinking into your bones.

Each gust of wind cut through you, but the storm raging around you was nothing compared to the turmoil within. You had rehearsed what you might say over and over, yet as you stood before the old wooden doors, the words felt distant, unreachable.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, your hand trembling as it grasped the iron handle. The door creaked, groaning under the pressure of your push, the sound amplified by the hollow quiet inside.

Stepping across the threshold, you could hear the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor, each step amplifying the pounding of your heart, which beat in sync with the thunder rumbling outside.

The church was nearly empty, its vast interior engulfed in an eerie stillness. The last remnants of the evening service had long since faded, leaving only a few flickering candles scattered around the altar.

Their faint, wavering light sent shadows dancing across the old stone walls, casting strange shapes that seemed to twist and shift with every gust of wind that rattled the windows. The air smelled of damp wood, incense, and something ancient — a scent that seemed to settle deep in your lungs, grounding you in the moment yet unsettling you all the same.

You paused just inside the doorway, wiping the rain from your face, and took in the silence that surrounded you. Despite the stillness, the weight of the space pressed down on you, amplifying your anxiety. You weren’t sure if it was the setting or the reason for your presence that made your chest tighten, but every breath felt like an effort. 

The soft hum of the storm outside was barely audible within the stone sanctuary, creating a strange sense of isolation. You found yourself both soothed and unnerved by the contrast — the chaos outside, the fragile calm inside.

And yet, even within this tranquility, there was a tension, a palpable sense of anticipation that settled in your gut. You were here for a reason, but now, standing in the dim light of the church, the reality of it felt heavier than you had imagined.

You walked slowly down the aisle, your footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling, each step measured, deliberate, as if delaying the inevitable. The pews were empty, save for a few scattered hymn books and prayer pamphlets left behind.

The rows stretched endlessly before you, and every flicker of the candles seemed to emphasize the emptiness, the vastness of the space, making you feel smaller with each passing second.

As you approached the altar, your breath hitched in your throat. This was the place where vows were made, promises were sealed, and lives were intertwined — for better or for worse. But you weren’t here for such formalities.

No, your visit was shrouded in uncertainty and the kind of unspoken tension that you had no idea how to resolve. The closer you got to the altar, the more the anticipation surged, twisting inside you.

You hesitated, standing just a few feet away from the altar steps. The candles flickered, casting long shadows that stretched toward you like fingers reaching from the past, urging you to move forward. But you remained still, heart pounding, breath shallow. The moment felt suspended, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

In the stillness, you wondered what awaited you — what words would be exchanged, what truths would be revealed. The anxiety gnawed at you, and yet, beneath it all, there was a strange undercurrent of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this night would bring clarity, an answer to the questions that had haunted you since the last time you were here.

And so you stood there, fighting the urge to turn back, knowing that what happened next could change everything.

You could hear Suguru’s voice in the distance, speaking quietly with one of the parishioners. You waited near the back, your hands clasped in front of you, trying to steady your breathing. When he finished, he turned and saw you, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache.

"You're here." he said, walking over to you. His voice was low, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes — relief, maybe, or hesitation.

"I am." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… I needed to see you."

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering for just a moment too long. “Come with me.” he murmured, gesturing toward a small room off to the side. His office, you realized. The room where it all started.

You followed him, your footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The air felt thick, heavy with unsaid words, with unspoken need. Once inside, he closed the door, and you both stood there for a moment, staring at each other, unsure where to begin. You could feel your heart pound at each step you took. Your breath hitches as you walk with him, many thoughts racing over and over in your head.

Suguru took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’m glad you came." he said, breaking the silence. "But I… I don’t know if this is a good idea."

Your chest tightened at his words, a mixture of frustration and longing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t either.” you admitted, “but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t just… ignore this.”

He looked at you, his eyes darkening with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Do you think it’s easy for me?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Do you think I don’t feel it too? This… this pull?”

You took a step closer, feeling a spark of anger mixed with desire. “Then why are we fighting it, Suguru? Why are we pretending like this isn’t happening?”

He shook his head, his frustration evident. “Because I made a promise, you know that.” he snapped. “Because I dedicated my life to something bigger than myself, and I can’t just… I can’t just throw that away!”

You felt a surge of emotion, a frustration that had been building for weeks. “I’m not asking you to throw anything away!” you shot back, your voice louder than you intended. “But you can’t just… you can’t just pretend you don’t feel anything. That we don’t feel anything!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite name — anger, maybe, or desire. “I’ve spent years pretending, trying to bury these feelings,” he said, his voice low and raw. “But every time I see you… every time I hear your voice…”

He stepped closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locked onto yours. “It tears me apart. And I don’t know…..” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve tried to stay away. God knows I’ve tried. But I… I can’t.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you thick and suffocating. “Then don’t.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t stay away. Don’t push me away…Please.”

His breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “This is madness.” he murmured, but his voice lacked conviction. “This… this is wrong.”

“Is it?” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Is it really so wrong to want… to feel…?”

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “I don’t know anymore.” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong when it comes to you.”

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. “Then stop thinking.” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just… just feel.”

For a moment, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. Then, something inside him seemed to snap. He surged forward, his hands cupping your face, his lips crashing against yours with a force that took your breath away.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, years of longing and frustration pouring out in a single, electrifying moment. You felt his hands tangle in your hair, his body pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to taste him, to know that this was real.

Your back hit the wall, and he pressed against you, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could taste the salt of his tears on his lips. You were drowning in him, in the scent of him, in the feel of his body against yours, in the way his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss.

But then, as quickly as it began, he pulled away, gasping for breath, his hands still holding your face, his forehead resting against yours. “We… we can’t.” he panted, his voice broken, torn. “This… this isn’t right.”

You were both breathing hard, your chest heaving with the effort to calm the storm raging inside you. “I know,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I know it’s not. But… but I need you, Suguru. I need you so much.”

He closed his eyes, his hands trembling against your skin. “I need you too.” he confessed, his voice choking with emotion. “God help me, I need you too.”

And in that moment, as you stood there, pressed against the wall, your breaths mingling in the darkened room, you both knew that something had changed. A line had been crossed, a boundary shattered, and there was no going back.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a moment that was as intoxicating as it was forbidden. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of what was between you, to acknowledge the depth of your desire, the strength of your longing.

Suguru’s lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, more tentative, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment. “What are we doing?” he whispered against your mouth.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know.” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He swallowed hard, his forehead still pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Neither do I.” he confessed, his voice breaking. “Neither do I.”

His breath was ragged, his hands shaking as they cupped your face once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he were searching for something he had lost long ago.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a blur, leaving only the two of you in this sacred, forbidden moment. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he felt them against his skin, his own eyes closing tight as if he could hold back the storm of emotions threatening to consume him.

He kissed you again, harder this time, a low, shaky sigh escaping him as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him with a strength that bordered on desperation.

“Forgive me.” he murmured against your lips, the words barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. “God, forgive me…”

But even as he spoke, he knew there was no forgiveness for what he was about to do, no absolution in this moment of need and longing. He felt the weight of his vows, the promises he had made, the life he had chosen… and yet, when it came to you, every vow seemed like a distant memory, every promise a faint echo of a past life. 

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you back against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as if he were worshiping at an altar.

“I’ve sinned so truly and endlessly for all these years.” he whispered, his voice raw, broken. “I’ve sinned, loving you… wanting you… needing you…”

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, needing to know this was real. His lips moved lower, tracing the line of your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’ve always been my god.” he confessed, his voice a breathless prayer. “And I… your most devoted follower…”

He sank to his knees, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips brushing against the fabric of your dress. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of longing and torment.

“I can’t stop.” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I won’t stop…”

His fingers hooked into the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly, reverently, his lips pressing kisses to the exposed skin of your thighs. You shivered, your breath catching in your throat as he continued, his hands trembling against your skin. 

“I’ll sin for you… over and over.” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your hip. “Because I can’t let you go…”

He kissed lower, his mouth trailing down the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your skin. He paused for a moment, his hands gripping your thighs, his forehead pressing against your belly as if he were fighting some inner battle. And then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he kissed you again, his lips finding the center of your desire, soft and demanding all at once.

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue flicked against you, tasting you, savoring you like the sweetest sin.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, each stroke a prayer, each touch a confession.

He kissed you there, over and over, his mouth moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy in its intensity. He could feel your body trembling beneath his hands, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he worshiped you with every ounce of devotion he possessed. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing, tasting, the heat of his breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue moving faster, hungrier, seeking to draw out every cry, every moan, every shudder of pleasure. His own breath came in ragged bursts, his heart pounding in his chest, his body trembling with the force of his own desire.

He couldn’t stop — didn’t want to stop. You were his sanctuary, his salvation, and in this moment, he was lost in you, lost in the heat of your skin, the taste of your desire, the sound of your breathless gasps. He moaned against you, the sound filled with need, with longing, with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as he continued, his lips and tongue moving against you with a fervor that was almost frantic. He felt your body tense, heard the soft, breathless moans that escaped your lips, and he knew you were close. Suguru wanted to push you over the edge, wanted to hear you cry out his name, wanted to feel you shatter against his lips.

And so, he continued, his tongue flicking faster, his lips pressing harder, his hands gripping your thighs as if he could anchor himself to you, as if he could hold you here, with him, in this perfect, sinful moment forever. 

You cried out, your body arching against the wall, your hands tightening in his hair as you came, a soft, breathless moan escaping your lips. He groaned against you, his tongue never stopping, his lips moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy, almost desperate, as if he were afraid to let you go, afraid to let the moment end.

And in that moment, he knew — he knew he would never be able to stop sinning for you. He would never be able to walk away, to forget the taste of you, the feel of you, the sound of your voice crying out his name. He was yours, body and soul, for better or for worse, for all eternity.

He pulled back, his breath ragged, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and filled with a longing so deep it nearly broke your heart. He looked up at you, his hands still gripping your thighs, his expression a mixture of awe and torment.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, as if every word took effort to push past the weight of his desire. "I can't... I can't stop this." he confessed, his forehead resting against your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as if anchoring himself to you, needing the connection as much as the air in his lungs.

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, your pulse still racing, the aftermath of the moment leaving your body humming with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. You could feel the tension in him, the battle between what he wanted and what he knew was dangerous, and yet you both understood — there was no turning back. Not now.

Slowly, you tilted his chin up, guiding his gaze back to yours. His eyes, still dark with desire, searched yours, and you could see the fear in them — fear of the depth of this thing between you, fear of how much it already consumed him. But beneath that, there was something more. Something tender, vulnerable, almost fragile.

"I don't want you to stop." you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "I don't want this to end.”

Suguru's eyes softened for a moment, then clouded with guilt. His hands trembled as they cupped your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. "I'm sorry." he murmured, his voice breaking with regret. "I'm so sorry… I led you to sin. This desire—my desire—it’s wrong, I’ve tainted you. I should have never let it go this far."

You shook your head, heart pounding, and leaned into his touch. "No." you whispered fiercely. "You didn't lead me anywhere I didn't want to go. I chose this. I chose you. If we're sinners, then I'll carry that sin with you. Together."

Without hesitation, you captured his lips in a kiss that was hard, desperate, and messy, like you were trying to devour him, to merge with him completely. And Suguru, filled with equal need, responded with the same raw intensity. His hands roamed your body, hungry, claiming, as if trying to make sure this moment, this choice, could never be undone.

In one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the confession box. The small, sacred space that had once held secrets and forgiveness was now your altar of passion. You both fumbled with your clothes, hands frantic, lips still locked in that feverish kiss. When the last piece of fabric fell to the floor, he broke away just long enough to whisper. 

"You are my god. I was never meant to devote worship to anyone else."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and the intensity of his devotion left you breathless. When he finally entered you, filling you completely, your body arched, as if instinctively trying to get closer, deeper, into the space where the boundaries of pleasure and need blurred into something beyond comprehension. 

The moan that escaped your lips was loud, unrestrained, ripped from your throat like a prayer answered after too long in the desert. And as if answering your plea, Suguru thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged, his skin slick with sweat as the storm outside raged in perfect synchrony with the chaos inside you both.

Thunder cracked, the air vibrating with the sound, but neither of you cared. It was the storm that gave you permission to be loud, to scream, to lose yourselves in this forbidden act. The rain pounded against the windows, a constant drumbeat to the rhythm of his body pressing into yours, over and over, until your mind was lost in a haze of pleasure so blinding you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began.

You came, hard and fast, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His pace grew more desperate, each thrust pushing deeper, more insistent, like a prayer that had to be spoken aloud, no matter the cost. His worship of you was not gentle; it was fierce, almost frenzied, as if the very act of being inside you was the only way he could breathe.

"Suguru." you gasped, barely able to speak, your voice broken and breathless. But the sound of his name on your lips seemed to spur him on. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, his movements becoming rougher, more urgent. Every thrust pushed you higher, every stroke making your body shake, your legs trembling as you gave into the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you.

He was relentless, his need for you all-consuming, driven by something more than mere desire. It was devotion, pure and raw, a longing that had been pent up for far too long. His words from earlier echoed in your mind — You are my god — and you could feel the truth of it now, in every touch, every movement, as he gave himself to you completely.

You whimpered as your body responded to him again, another wave of pleasure building as he moved deeper inside you, filling every part of you until there was nothing left but him. The tension between your bodies, the heat, the raw, primal hunger, grew too much to bear. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body clinging to him, needing him, wanting him, as he pushed you closer to the edge again.

The storm raged outside, lightning flashing, illuminating the room in brief moments of stark white, and in those flashes, you could see the look on his face — dark, intense, a man consumed by his love for you, by the act of giving himself over entirely, as if nothing else mattered in this world.

And maybe it didn’t.

"Suguru..." you moaned, feeling yourself break once more as your body surrendered to him completely, trembling violently against his as he continued to claim you, over and over, as if this moment would never end.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru……” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust. 

“I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. 

“You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered. 

“I’m never letting you go.”

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other, you knew the truth of it — this was something neither of you could escape. Not the sin, not the pleasure, not the way you were both hopelessly bound to one another. For better or worse, you were his, and he was yours. Bound in sin, bound in love, bound in something far more powerful than either of you could understand.

══════════════════

epilogue

The car hummed softly beneath you as you drove, the highway stretching out ahead, quiet and serene in the early morning light. Your daughter sat in the passenger seat, her backpack nestled between her feet, her gaze fixed out the window as the city gave way to the open road leading toward the airport. The silence between you was comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension — the weight of goodbye looming just ahead.

You glanced over at her, your heart swelling with pride and a little bit of that inevitable ache that comes with watching your child leave. She had grown so much, blossomed into a young woman full of ambition and dreams. College was her next chapter, and you were ready to let her go, even if the thought tugged at your heart.

As if sensing your thoughts, she turned to you, her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you gonna be alright, Mom?" Her voice was soft, careful, as if she was more worried about you than her own big journey ahead.

You smiled at her, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm going to be fine." You paused, your smile growing a little softer. "I have Suguru."

She smiled back, a knowing look in her eyes. She had grown up with Suguru around, seeing the way you two fit together. Over time, she understood the depth of your bond, even if she didn’t know the whole story. 

"I’m glad." she said quietly. "He’s good for you."

You nodded, your chest tightening a bit as the airport came into view. "He is. And I’m going to miss you. But you know you can come back anytime, right? This is always your home."

She smiled, though it was tinged with the same bittersweet feeling you carried. "I know, Mom. I’ll come back as soon as I can."

After pulling up to the drop-off zone, you hugged her tightly, savoring the warmth of her embrace. "I’m so proud of you." you whispered, holding her just a little longer than usual. 

"I love you, Mom." she murmured back before pulling away, her eyes a little misty. She gave you one last smile before grabbing her bag and disappearing through the airport doors.

For a moment, you sat there, watching the entrance as people hurried by, the world continuing on as always. You felt the pang of her absence already, but you knew that she was ready for this new adventure. And so were you.

With a deep breath, you turned the car around and headed back toward town, a quiet excitement building in your chest. Suguru was waiting for you. As you neared the church, the sight of it stirred something in you. It was the place where so much had started, where your life had taken a turn you could never have predicted.

Suguru had officially left the priesthood some time ago, and now, he was finishing the last bit of paperwork to close that chapter of his life. His decision had been made with a clear heart, for both of you and for the daughters he had taken in, Mimiko and Nanako. The three of them had already moved the rest of their things to a house just outside of town, the place where you would begin your new life together.

As you pulled into the small parking lot of the church, you spotted him standing near the entrance, his dark hair tied back, his expression calm but focused as he signed the last of the documents. He looked up when you parked, his lips curving into a soft smile as you approached.

"All set?" you asked as you reached him, your fingers brushing his in a quiet greeting.

He nodded, setting the paperwork aside. "It’s done. Everything’s in order." His smile widened, that familiar warmth in his gaze. "I’m free."

You exhaled softly, the weight of his words filling the space between you. He had left the priesthood not for the sake of running away from something, but for the chance to fully embrace the life he wanted — the life he wanted with you.

"So," you asked with a playful tilt of your head, "where to next?"

Suguru smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his, his touch grounding and steady, as it had always been. "I want to devote the rest of my life to you," he said simply, his voice gentle yet filled with unwavering certainty. 

Your heart swelled at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through you. He had always been devoted, but now it was different. Now, there were no barriers, no walls between you. It was just the two of you, ready to build something beautiful together.

You smiled, stepping closer and resting your head against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt like home. "Then let’s go, hm?" you whispered. "Let’s start the rest of our lives."

And as you drove away from the church together, toward the house that would soon become your shared home, the future felt wide open — a new chapter, a new beginning. You had Suguru. You had love. And for the first time, you felt entirely free.

[nottsdarling]

Delusion

Summary; Finding out that your boyfriend of 3 months has been lying and pretending about his feelings the whole relationship.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

: Cheater!bf Mattheo x reader

: word count ; 1.5k

: cw; cheating, lying, manipulation

: a/n! this is part two!! you can find part 1 here. Enjoy my angels!

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

You heard the footsteps quicken behind you, echoing in the empty hallways, as you tried to speed up, wanting to escape the confrontation that was inevitable. You knew Mattheo would catch up, his determination never letting him fall behind, especially when he was set on something—or someone. But even as his hand wrapped around your arm, you kept your gaze on the floor, refusing to look him in the eye. The grip on your arm was firm yet shaky, betraying the emotions beneath his tough exterior. Mattheo’s calloused fingers, a sign of his roughness and recklessness, felt painfully real against your soft skin. You felt your heart clench, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to show it.

“Y/N… please,”

He said, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability that you hadn’t heard before. He tugged slightly, as if pulling you closer would somehow mend the gap between you, as if one touch could erase everything that had happened. But you shook his hand off, your body instinctively recoiling from him.

“Don’t touch me,”

You said, your voice strained but steady.

“I can’t do this.”

“Y/N… we were just joking, it was just guy stuff,”

He said, the excuse faltering as he saw the hurt in your eyes. You shook your head.

“Guy stuff? That’s what you call it? Making a fool out of me? Leading me on while laughing with your friends about how easy it is to play with my feelings?”

He tried to speak, his mouth opening to form words, but nothing came out. You could see the regret in his eyes, like he wanted to reach into his chest and hand you the guilt-ridden mess that was his heart. But no amount of remorse would undo the damage. You forced yourself to stay strong, even though part of you wanted to give in to his apology. Mattheo had always been charming, persuasive, the kind of guy who knew just the right words to say. But this time, his silver tongue failed him.

“Please, Y/N. Just… just listen to me,”

He pleaded, desperation coating his words. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

You scoffed.

“What exactly did you mean, then, Mattheo? To keep me around as some toy you could pick up and toss aside whenever you felt like it? I’m not here for your amusement.”

You could feel the bitterness seeping into every word. He looked wounded, and yet that wasn’t enough for the hurt he’d caused you. The silence stretched on, with only his shallow breaths and your pounding heartbeat filling the void. Finally, he whispered,

“What do you want, Y/N?”

For a second, the weight of your feelings pressed down on you, almost making you crumble. But anger resurfaced, becoming a shield you desperately clung to.

“I want you to leave me alone. I want you to go back to whatever you were doing before you decided to mess with my life.”

“I’m sorry,”

He said, his voice breaking.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You laughed bitterly.

“Sorry for what? For playing with my heart like it was nothing? For making me think that maybe, just maybe, you actually cared?” You felt the sting of tears but blinked them away, refusing to let him see just how deeply he’d hurt you.

“Go fuck yourself, Mattheo.”

The words tore out of you, laced with every ounce of anger and betrayal you felt. You turned away from him, feeling the satisfaction of letting go and the agony of what might have been. Mattheo stood there, shoulders slumped, the pain in his eyes mirroring the ache in your heart. He looked down, defeated, as if your words had hit him harder than he ever expected. The silence between you both felt like a chasm, one that he couldn’t cross. But he didn’t walk away. Instead, he stayed there, his voice a quiet murmur that you barely caught as you began to walk off.

“I didn’t deserve you,”

He said, so softly that it was almost a whisper. You paused, something about his tone stopping you in your tracks. Against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed red with an emotion that even he seemed unaccustomed to showing.

“I never deserved you, Y/N,”

He repeated, his voice a raw confession.

“I know that. I thought I could keep things casual, that I could pretend it didn’t mean anything. But it does. It means everything.” His words hung in the air, pleading with you to believe them. You turned back to face him fully, though your arms remained crossed, your posture defensive.

“Why are you telling me this now, Mattheo? After all that’s happened, why now?”

“Because… because I can’t lose you,”

He said, his voice trembling.

“I can’t let you walk out of my life without trying to make it right. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I need you to know that none of it was a game to me. I acted like an idiot because I was scared. Scared of how much I cared about you, of how vulnerable you make me feel.”

You stared at him, processing his words, the sincerity evident in his voice. For the first time, you saw past the bravado, the layers of sarcasm and charm he’d built around himself. You saw the boy who was terrified of rejection, of losing the one person he finally let himself care for.

“And now?”

You asked softly, feeling your anger slowly unravel.

“Now, I’m asking for a chance. Just one chance to prove that I’m not the jerk I’ve been acting like,”

He said, his gaze locking onto yours with a steadiness that took you by surprise.

“I’m asking you to let me show you that I can be better. For you.”

The rawness of his confession left you speechless. A part of you wanted to walk away, to protect yourself from being hurt again. But another part, a deeper part, remembered the moments you’d shared with him, the glimpses of vulnerability he’d shown, the times he’d made you laugh when you thought no one could.

“Mattheo,”

You started, your voice wavering,

“You can’t just expect me to forget everything.”

“I don’t expect you to,”

He replied, taking a cautious step closer.

“But I’m hoping that maybe, with time, I can earn your forgiveness. That maybe I can make things right.”

You hesitated, letting his words sink in. Could he change? Could he truly prove to you that he was willing to make amends, to become someone worthy of your trust? After a long pause, you finally spoke.

“One chance, Mattheo. That’s all you get. And you have to earn it.”

A flicker of hope lit up his face as he nodded, determination replacing the despair.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,”

He promised, his voice steady and resolute.

“I won’t let you down this time.”

Over the next few weeks, Mattheo set out to prove his sincerity. He showed up for you in small, consistent ways. He was there to walk you to classes, to bring you coffee in the mornings, to listen when you needed to vent about your day. Slowly, he chipped away at the wall you’d built around your heart, his gestures becoming more genuine, more heartfelt. He wasn’t just charming or persuasive; he was present, dependable, and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. Gradually, you found yourself softening, the anger dissolving as you saw the effort he was making. He was trying, truly trying, to be someone worthy of your love. And with each passing day, you felt yourself falling for him again, but this time, it was different. This time, you were certain he wasn’t hiding behind a mask. One evening, as the two of you sat beneath a starlit sky, he turned to you, his expression nervous but hopeful.

“Y/N, I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to hear it again. I love you. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it, until I prove that I’m here for you, and only you.”

You looked at him, seeing the man he’d become, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I believe you, Mattheo,”

You whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I believe you.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you knew that this time, it was real. You knew that he was yours, and that you were his, in a way that felt like coming home. The past hadn’t vanished, but it had given way to a new beginning. Together, you found a love that was honest, true, and unbreakable, a love that had grown from the ashes of hurt and transformed into something beautiful. And in that moment, beneath the stars, you knew that this was the happy ending you’d both been searching for.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

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Do not upload my work onto other platforms without permission and/or credit.

Have a wonderful day and/or night my angels, mwah!!

[wandering-winchesters]

The Weight of Rain

Summary: As you grieve for the life you never had, Dean finds you.

The rain was relentless, a steady, unyielding downpour that soaked everything in its path. Dean stood just outside the bunker, the cool, wet air hitting his face as he squinted through the sheets of rain. It was late—far too late for anyone to be outside—but the faint glow of light coming from just beyond the bunker’s entrance told him otherwise.

He hadn’t expected to find you out here. After a particularly grueling hunt, everyone had retired to their rooms, the weight of exhaustion pulling them under. But as he passed by your room on his way to grab a beer, he noticed it was empty, the bed untouched. A gnawing sense of worry had driven him to search for you, and now here you were, sitting on the ground in the rain, your head bowed, your shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world.

Dean’s heart tightened at the sight. He knew what this was—he’d been in that same place too many times to count. The rain didn’t bother you, didn’t register. It was just background noise to the storm that was raging inside your head.

Quietly, he stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold water seep through his clothes almost immediately. He didn’t care. You were what mattered right now. He approached you slowly, not wanting to startle you, his boots crunching softly against the wet gravel.

“Y/N,” he called out gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to catch your attention.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen, tears mingling with the rain on your cheeks. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut. He could see the grief, the pain etched into every line of your face, and it nearly broke him. He’d seen you hurt before, seen you angry, scared, but this—this was different. This was deeper, more raw. This was you grieving, mourning for something that wasn’t just lost but had never been.

Without saying a word, Dean sank down beside you on the wet ground, ignoring the way the cold water soaked through his jeans. He wasn’t here to offer empty platitudes or try to fix what was broken. He was here because he couldn’t stand the thought of you sitting out here alone, drowning in that pain.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rain, the distant rumble of thunder, and the occasional sob that escaped your lips despite your best efforts to hold it in. Dean waited, giving you the space to speak, to let it out if you needed to. He wasn’t going to push, wasn’t going to demand answers. He was just… here.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you took a shaky breath and spoke, your voice barely audible over the rain. “I keep thinking about the life I could’ve had, you know? The one where I’m not a hunter, where I’m just… normal. Maybe I have a family, a home, a job that doesn’t involve killing things in the dark.” You paused, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “But that life’s not real. It’s never been real. And I don’t know how to stop mourning something that never even existed.”

Dean felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of your words sinking into him like stones. He understood that feeling all too well—the longing for a life that could have been, the quiet dreams that had been buried beneath the constant need to survive. He’d had those dreams once, before the hunting life had taken everything from him. And hearing you voice those same thoughts, seeing the pain it caused you, made him wish more than anything that he could give you that life, that peace you so desperately craved.

“Hey,” he said softly, turning to face you fully, his hand reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “I get it, Y/N. I do. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more, with grieving what you could’ve had. But just because that life isn’t real, doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to feel this way.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, as if trying to find some kind of solace in his words. “It just hurts, Dean,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your grief. “I’ve given up so much, lost so much, and for what? So I can spend the rest of my life fighting and watching the people I care about get hurt or worse? What’s the point?”

Dean’s heart twisted at the raw pain in your voice, the way you looked so lost, so broken. He knew that pain, knew it intimately. But hearing it from you, seeing it in your eyes, made it all the more unbearable.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Hell, I don’t even have most of them. But I do know one thing—you’re not alone in this. Yeah, this life sucks sometimes. More than sometimes. But you’ve got people who care about you, who’ll stand by you no matter what. Me, Sam, we’re here. We’re in this together.”

You sniffled, wiping at your face with the back of your hand, though it did little to stop the tears or the rain. “But what if I don’t want to do this anymore, Dean? What if I just… can’t?”

Dean’s breath hitched, his mind reeling at the thought of you leaving, of you walking away from it all. But he also knew he couldn’t—wouldn’t—try to stop you if that’s what you truly wanted. You deserved to be happy, to find peace, even if it wasn’t in the life they lived.

“If that’s what you need, then I’ll support you,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. “But just know, whatever you decide, you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Your eyes welled up again, and before Dean could react, you were leaning into him, burying your face in his chest as another wave of sobs wracked your body. Dean didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, shielding you from the rain as best he could. He held you tight, feeling the way your body trembled against his, the way your fingers clung to the fabric of his jacket as if he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

Dean rested his chin on top of your head, his heart breaking for you, for the pain you were carrying. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. “I’ve got you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, sitting in the rain, the world around you fading into the background. Dean didn’t care that he was soaked to the bone, that the cold was seeping into his skin. All that mattered was you, holding you as you let it all out, as you grieved for the life you could have had, the life that had never been.

Eventually, the rain began to let up, the storm passing, leaving behind a calm, quiet night. Your sobs had subsided, your breathing evening out as the weight of your grief slowly eased, if only a little. But Dean didn’t let go, not yet. He wanted you to know that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

Dean shook his head, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m just glad you’re not going through this alone.”

You offered him a small, tired smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was real nonetheless. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dean.”

Dean felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words, a sense of belonging, of purpose. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

He helped you to your feet, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you back inside the bunker, away from the rain, away from the ghosts of the life that could have been. As they walked, Dean made a silent vow to himself: whatever the future held, whatever choices you made, he would be there, by your side, every step of the way.

Because you were worth it—worth the fight, worth the pain, worth everything. And Dean would do whatever it took to make sure you never had to face that pain alone again.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz

[luvzshy]

Hey, I was thinking about a fic where Billie is dating but her girlfriend can't go on tour with her. How they would cope with that?

a/n: i would go w her 😔

stay behind

Her blue eyes flicker with excitement as she leans across the kitchen counter, talking about her upcoming tour. She’s radiant—her face animated, hands moving as she lists all the cities she’ll be visiting. Every time she talks about performing, her entire being lights up, and you’ve always loved that about her.

But now, as you listen, you feel the weight of what you’re about to say sinking in.

She pauses, smiling softly at you. “You’re coming, right? It’s gonna be insane—London, Tokyo, Paris—I need you there.”

You take a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you set your coffee cup down. “Billie…”

Her brows furrow slightly, the excitement fading from her face. “What’s wrong?”

You glance down, unable to meet the intensity of her blue eyes. It’s not that you want to stay behind, but you know you have to. “I…I don’t think I can go with you this time.”

Her expression shifts—confusion first, then the slightest hint of hurt. “Why? You’ve always been there.” She lets out a nervous laugh, but it’s hollow. “What changed?”

You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You know I do. I want to be with you in every city, watching you do what you love. But… I have responsibilities here. I can’t just leave everything behind.”

She blinks, the realization settling in. “You’re saying you won’t come at all? Not even for part of it?”

You shake your head slowly, hating the way her face falls. “Not this time.”

The silence between you stretches on. She leans back in her chair, running a hand through her hair as she tries to make sense of it. You can see the gears turning in her mind, searching for a way to change this, to convince you. She’s always been good at fixing things, but this time… this isn’t something that can be fixed.

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve always made it work before.”

“I know.” Your voice cracks, and it’s hard to keep speaking. “But this time… it’s different. I can’t just drop everything and go. I have to stay.”

Her blue eyes, usually so bright and full of life, dim with disappointment. “So what does that mean? For us?”

Your chest tightens. You know how much she hates being alone on tour. She relies on you during the quiet moments, the nights when the hotel room feels too big. The thought of her being out there without you, thousands of miles away, breaks your heart, but you can’t change what has to be done.

“We’ll make it work,” you say, trying to smile, even though it doesn’t feel convincing. “We always do.”

She stares at you, her gaze piercing, as if she’s searching for something in your face—some reassurance, some comfort.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

You reach across the table, taking her hand. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly in yours. “I know. And I don’t want you to feel alone, but this is just how it has to be.”

She pulls her hand away, standing up abruptly. The frustration is clear in the way she starts pacing, her hands tugging at her hair. “You don’t get it,” she says, louder now, more desperate. “I need you there. I can’t… I can’t do this alone.”

You stand up, moving toward her, but she steps back, keeping distance between you. “Billie, I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

“Not with me,” she snaps, and the crack in her voice hits you like a punch in the gut. “How am I supposed to feel okay with this? How am I supposed to be anywhere without you?”

You close the distance between you and wrap your arms around her, even though she tries to pull away. After a moment, she melts into your embrace, her head resting against your shoulder. You feel her tears soaking into your shirt, and your own vision blurs.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper into her hair, your voice barely steady. “I love you. That’s not going to change.”

She pulls back slightly, her face streaked with tears, but there’s still that spark in her eyes—a flicker of hope. “Promise me,” she says, her voice small. “Promise me we’ll make it through this.”

You nod, pressing your forehead against hers. “I promise.”

For a long moment, you just hold each other, both of you clinging to the hope that love will be enough. There’s so much uncertainty, so much that you can’t control, but here, in this moment, none of that matters.

All that matters is the two of you.

For now.

[iheartuwu]

fuck it, i love you — leon s. kennedy

tags. afab!reader, fwb dynamic, (brief) smut wc. 0.5k

Leon Kennedy quietly concludes that he should shut the fuck up for the rest of his life. He knows that whatever happens from this point on, there’s no bullshitting his way through the uncomfortable stench of truth that’s begun to permeate the air.

Through panting breaths and half lidded eyes you watch him tug the covers over your bodies the way he always does when you’re finished, but this time he avoids any additional contact, careful not to touch you as he shifts away from you. His head hits the cold pillow, tight lipped and tense, a hand rising to rub drowsily at his face. No playful remarks on his performance. No peppered kisses. Not even a goodnight. You try not to let this bother you, but it does.

Leon feels you watching him and his skin starts to itch with unease. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, grateful for the darkness that deprives your sights of further examining him. His mind is racing. Fuck off to some foreign country or place in need of his handgun because there’s always somewhere he can be sent. Or, bury himself in paperwork, the endless pile is already waiting for him at the office. Anything to keep him busy and out of reach. Anything that frees you from him. Both solid plans, truly. Emergency escapes have always been his forte. He can already sense you slipping away from him, can already feel himself becoming a distant memory to you. Can already hear the speech you’ll give him, the delicate cadence of your voice infesting his mind in soft echoes. You’re probably reciting it already in your head right now, going over the main points slathered with verbal softeners you’ll apply when you tell him you don’t reciprocate. You were always better with words than he ever was anyway. Nicer, too. At least there’s the comfort in knowing you’ll let him off easy.

Understandably, silence consumes you. It’s strange how quiet the room has become, how a moment ago the sounds of your moans and the skin to skin contact filled the room, the lingering memory still fresh in your mind. How he cupped your cheek with a softness that was so unfamiliar to him it made his fingers tremble as he pressed his lips to your forehead, your warmed skin responsive to every touch. The weight of his body on top of yours, the way his thrusts become less calculated when he’s about to cum and—

“I love you.” He says.

His lips crashing into yours before you could even register the words that hung in the air. His kiss: hot, needy, overwhelming, desperate to cease any space that existed between you, soothed by the whimpers that fled your tongue. Nails raking across his back as you clenched around him.

Cowardice settles in the pit of your stomach and crawls its way to barricade your throat. You swallow it away, shift yourself under the covers to nestle against him, feel his tense muscles flare when your hand plants onto his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pump beneath your palm, can hear the intake of his breath as you draw closer to rest your head on his shoulder. You can hardly hear yourself speak when you do.

“I love you too, Leon.”

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 16

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: almost a month after the party, you’re hanging out with evan at his house, trying to get your assignment done.

word count: 2.6k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: y’all thought i forgot about their assignment?? wrong. this is ANGSTY i’m sorry!! but the poll was pretty much tied and it’s short lived if it’s any consolation :// enjoy<33

warnings: mentions of cheating??, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

It’s well into November when you’re hanging out with Evan in his room, trying desperately to get the last few parts of your assignment mapped out. It’s not hard work, but with the way you’re sitting cross legged on Evan’s bed while he sits facing you on his desk chair, Evan’s brain is only focused on pouncing on you. You’re talking about the research article you found while Evan is staring shamelessly at your body, humming along with you to make it seem like he’s paying attention. You sigh and stop talking once you realize his head is a million miles away, and you close your laptop, raising a brow at him.

“Ev, can you not pay attention for, like, 30 more minutes?” you ask in a teasing, yet slightly exasperated tone. His eyes finally dart up to yours, and he gives you a cheeky smile as he shrugs. 

“Oh, I’m paying attention, princess. You thought you could come over looking like that and I’d just work on the assignment?” he asks, raising a brow as he looks down at your body again.

“I’m wearing leggings and a hoodie. I literally could not be more covered up.” you say with a laugh, setting your laptop to the side, knowing there’s no way of getting him to focus now. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he stands up and stalks toward you on the bed. He holds out a hand once he’s in front of you, which you take. He helps pull you up, then puts his hands on your hips and pulls you against him with a smirk. You meet his lips as he leans down, your hands moving to his cheeks as you smile into the kiss.

“You’re a damn temptress.” he murmurs against your lips, which makes you laugh. You pull away, giving him a “really?” look, still laughing quietly.

“You want to take a break?” you ask, one hand moving up to run through his hair. He nods, humming softly as he feels your fingers massaging his scalp. He pushes you back onto the bed, and waits until your head is on one of his pillows before he dives onto the bed beside you, making the bed creak and bounce you around a little. He moves to lay practically on top of you, one leg thrown over both of yours, his arm draped over your tummy, and his head resting against your soft chest. He hums against your chest, sinking into you as you chuckle, shaking your head. Your hand goes back up to run through his hair again, and although it’s a little harder to breathe with his weight on you, you wouldn’t dream of moving. 

You stay quiet for a while, absentmindedly running your hand through his scalp before you break the silence, speaking before you can really think about what you’re saying.

“We’re graduating this year.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he hears you anyway, and he hums softly, nodding slightly. He mumbles, “I know, it’s crazy.” and you nod along with him, starting to think about life after college.

“What are you gonna do after?” you ask softly, your words hanging heavily in the air as the implications of the question suddenly become a little clearer to both of you. You weren’t really sure where you were going with what you were saying at first, but now, it’s clear to you and Evan that you’re really asking “what about us after graduation?”

He raises his head, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you, eyes studying your slightly nervous expression. You know it’s a little much to ask; you’ve only known each other for 3 months, but you can’t imagine just going your separate ways once you walk across the stage.

“I don’t know, princess.” he tells you softly, not knowing what else to say. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t want to say anything that he can’t promise.

“Well, you’re gonna have your degree. What kind of work do you want to do with it?” He huffs, thinking about having to find a fulltime job.

“Honestly, I’m only here because my parents basically forced me to go to college. I don’t even want to do anything with the degree, I just did it to shut them up.” he tells you, resting his cheek back on your chest again. Your heartbeat and steady rising and falling of your chest help to calm him, and he lets out a silent sigh. You hum softly, frowning at his words.

“So, I’m guessing you’re not planning on going back to Pennsylvania?” you ask, desperate to know more. You’ve always thought about staying in LA once you graduate, and it would be perfect if he’s considering it too. 

“Definitely not. I don’t really know where I wanna go, or what I wanna do. I’m just kind of hoping it’ll hit me, and I’ll figure it out.” he tells you earnestly with a small shrug, squeezing you just a little bit tighter. All he knows is that he really doesn’t want to go anywhere without you. He almost laughs as he thinks about it. Before he met you, he couldn’t imagine becoming so close with a girl that he can’t bear the thought of parting from her, but now, he silently hopes that after graduation you stay together.

“Your parents live close to here, right? Would you stay around here after graduation?” he asks after a few moments of silence. 

“I would, but I wouldn’t take moving somewhere else off the table.” you tell him, and although you’re saying it because you know you’d probably follow him anywhere, you also welcome the idea of seeing new places. “So, I guess neither of us know what we want.” you say with a soft laugh, feeling a little silly for bringing it up.

“I know what I want.” he says matter of factly, giving you a wink as he raises his cheek off your chest again to look up at you. You feel your cheeks heating up as you look down at him, unable to fight off the smile forming on your face. He leans up and kisses you softly, like a promise, almost as if saying “we’ll figure this out.”

Once he pulls back, he gets up quickly, straddling your lap and starting to tickle your sides, hoping to take your mind off of the hard questions with no real answers hanging in the air. You let out a loud, surprised laugh, starting to squirm under him as you try to push his hands away. You cry out a breathy “stop, stop” as he keeps tickling you, a shrug on his face. Once he’s sure your conversation is forgotten about, he eases up, planting a big, audible kiss on your cheek. He admires the way your eyes crease when he pulls back, the dazed expression in your eyes, and how your smile is plastered to your face, and his heart swells. 

He gets up, mumbling a quick “I’ll be right back” as he leaves the room, keeping your hands together, dangling between you for a moment before he finally turns and goes to the bathroom.

While you lay on his bed and wait for him, you think about your plans with your roommate to go to a local farmers market tomorrow, and you figure you should start planning your outfit before you forget and have to throw something on at the last minute. You go to reach for your phone, but you remember it’s still on Evan’s desk, charging. You look over at Evan’s phone on the bed, and decide to reach for it instead, sitting up as you do. You only want to know the weather, and you know his password anyway, so you figure he won’t mind.

When you pick up his phone, you’re met with a text notification on the lock screen from Sabrina. You furrow your brows, thinking about when you met her a number of weeks ago. You can’t help the nerves creeping into your belly, thinking about how shamelessly she was flirting with him, and you can feel your heart start to race a little. You trust him, and you don’t want to do anything to make him think you don’t, but thinking about her texting him still makes your stomach churn.

When you swipe up to unlock his phone, however, the phone thinks you clicked on the message, so when you put in his password, you’re immediately faced with their conversation. You’re met with a picture of her in a bikini, posed at the beach, looking absolutely stunning. You suck in a shaky breath, eyes roaming over her slim waist, and her small thighs, and dread fills your belly. The only other thing you see before you hear Evan’s footsteps outside his door is her newest text below the picture.

Sabrina: heyyy, there’s a party at delta phi on friday. you going? ;)

You slam the phone down before he comes in, plastering a fake smile to your face when his eyes land on you. He raises a brow, taking in your unsure eyes and fidgeting fingers as you sit on the bed.

“What’s up?” he asks, closing the door and walking back over to the bed. You shrug, still smiling as he lays down on his side, propped up on his elbow.

“Nothing.” you say softly, looking down at your fingers, turning the ring on your middle finger, trying to slow the thoughts swarming in your brain. Were you just taking his “I know what I want” as something completely different? Was he acting so unsure with you because he didn’t want to tell you that he didn’t want to keep seeing you yet? Was he just a really good liar?

“What’s going on in that pretty little head, huh? Talk to me, princess.” He pulls you out of your thoughts, and for a moment, his soft voice almost works to calm your nerves. But then the picture comes back into your brain, and you feel like you’re going to throw up. You had slowly begun to let your guard down, opting to not suck in your plush tummy when his hands ghost across it, and not feeling awkward when he puts a hand on your thigh. You feel your insecurities bubbling to the surface again; of course he’s looking at her.

“Nothing.” you say again, a little sharply. He’s taken aback by your tone, and his eyes widen slightly, confused by your sudden switch up. “Can we please just drop it? I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

He knows you, and he knows pushing you further will make you shut down even more, so he begrudgingly agrees, mutters a quiet “okay.” He turns onto his back and faces the ceiling, opting to stay quiet and give you a minute as you fall further and further into your own mind. He reaches for his phone beside him, and turns it on. His heart falls when he sees that it opens to his conversation with Sabrina. He sighs, sitting up and nudging your leg with his arm, wanting you to look at him.

“Baby, I-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Why do you still talk to her?” you ask him softly, tears threatening to spill. You know you can’t be mad at him for talking to her before you started dating, but him still letting her send those pictures makes your heart clench.

“Will you let me explain, princess? Please?” he asks desperately, fighting the urge to touch you. He knows he should let you have your space right now; that pulling you into his arms would only make you more upset. You nod once, looking up at him as you chew on your lip anxiously. You can’t wait to hear what he has to say, but you’re also dreading it just as much.

“I still have a class with her. She still flirts with me sometimes in class, but I don’t do anything about it, I swear. She’s been asking when we should hang out, but I keep brushing her off, so I guess she finally got fed up and decided to text me again.” he tells you, eyes boring into yours as he searches for any hint that you don’t believe him. You listen intently, a tear finally escaping your eye as you reply.

“Why is she still sending you pictures? Why are you letting her?” Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, and you reach up quickly to wipe the tear from your cheek. He sighs, tilting his head to the side as his eyes soften. He clenches his fist as he tries not to reach out to you, finally understanding why you’re so upset.

“Baby, did you see the timestamp on that text? It was from August. Before we met.” he tells you, eyes locked on yours. Your brows furrow at his words, mouth going dry. You hadn’t even thought to check; you were just so focused on her. He opens the conversation and holds the phone out for you to see, and you see that he’s telling the truth. You feel so stupid, and you let out a big breath, looking down as you laugh weakly.

“I didn’t see that.” you say quietly, feeling more tears running down your cheeks, although you’re not sure why. He’s very clearly not cheating on you.

“Yeah, I guess not. Come here, princess.” he tells you, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. You hug him back, sniffling softly, feeling extremely stupid.

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” you whisper, laughing at yourself. He chuckles as well, shaking his head.

“You thought you just caught your boyfriend cheating on you. I think a few tears are allowed.” he tells you softly, his tone slightly teasing. You laugh again, sniffling as you pull back.

“I’m glad you’re not.” is all you can manage to say as you look at him, leaning into his touch as he reaches up to wipe your tears.

“You think I’d do that to you?” he teases, but you can see a hint of seriousness in his tone. He knows that cheating definitely isn’t uncommon, but he doesn’t feel good about you thinking that he would, despite your reasoning being very valid. He relaxes slightly when he sees you shake your head, a smile making its way onto his face again.

“You haven’t given me a reason to. I wasn’t purposely looking through your messages. I was just gonna check the weather, and I clicked the wrong thing.” you explain with a shrug, looking down as you fidget with your ring again. You don’t want him to think you were snooping; you really don’t want him to think you don’t trust him.

“Well, I’m glad you trust me. Because I would never hurt you. And I know saying that means nothing, so I’m gonna keep showing you that. As long as you’ll let me.” he tells you earnestly. He leans in to rest his forehead on yours, and one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, holding you there.

“Yeah? Promise?” you get out in a teasing tone, although your heart is hammering in your chest at his words.

“Promise.” he tells you, holding out his pinky with a cheeky smile. You giggle and link your pinky with his, looking into his eyes until he launches himself at you and pins you against the bed, kissing you deeply.

next chapter

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[giorno-plays-piano]

Favors and Debts

Part I

Pairing: fae!Yuji/Sukuna x reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, murder, captivity, stalking, violence (not towards reader), Sukuna having a purity kink.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Of all creatures fickle and cruel, the fair folk are the ones inspiring fear and awe alike. You were unlucky enough to save one of them from captivity, and now you must pay for it.

________________

"Please, leave me be," your whisper is so quiet you barely hear yourself speak, but it's enough for the monster to bare his teeth at you in a smile.

"No," he says simply and then charges at you like a wild animal, forcing a scream out of your throat as you run and run and run until you are facing a dead wall blocking your path.

His sharp smile grows wider the closer he steps to you.

Then you wake up with a gasp, face wet with tears and cold sweat as you clench the sheets in your fingers, choking from horror. It's him again. The fae boy you saved years ago, the one who pays you back with fear and pain and nightmares. He doesn't visit you every night, not when you keep taking your sleeping pills religiously, but they are a serious thing, and your stomach keeps hurting more and more over the years, forcing you to take lesser doses. That's when the fae boy strikes, slipping into your dreams like water seeps through a crack of an old, chipped cup.

It's the same dream over and over again: he chases you down the city as you run for your life like a prey followed by predator, blinded by fear while he taunts you, his six long, muscular arms nearly catching you every time. It feels like every night he allows you to escape, but you don't think it's entirely true. Your iron and your mirrors must be keeping you safe: after all this time, he hadn't come for you yet.

You were young back then, so naive, so pure. You finally received a long-awaited recommendation letter from the head pharmacist to be allowed to work in a tiny village down south, nearly at the Drowned Forest border. You were, by far, not a superstitious girl, and the rumors didn't scare you. You were, though, quite worried about being among the simple, rural folk who weren't keen on trusting a young city girl with making their medication: truth be told, women in those places had only ever had one purpose in life, and it had nothing to do with a medical career or any career at all.

And yet, you were welcomed to the place. The villagers were desperate since it took at least several days to drive to the closes town to procure the medication of any serious kind, and they were in great need of someone who'd serve as a doctor and a pharmacist, even if it was just a young girl who had only gotten her recommendation letter.

But it was an unfriendly, cold, half-abandonded sort of place. Likewise, you didn't like its people who were always too crude, too vulgar to your taste, their gazes always lingering too long on you when they thought you didn't see, and you could barely stand the almost-casual touches of men who seemed to think you couldn't see beneath their polite facade. "They're simple folk," the head pharmacist would say, shaking his head after you pleaded with him to give you a letter of recommendation. "You won't appreciate their way of life, and you don't have to. Why do you want to go there so badly if you can continue working as my junior pharmacist? You can make a name for yourself here."

You were stupid back then. You wanted to prove yourself so desperately you thought nothing of his gentle warning, rushing headlong in what you thought your first grown-up adventure that turned out to be a nightmare haunting you to this day.

At first, despite your unease towards the village folk, it all was new and exciting. You were the head pharmacist! The only one for miles and miles. People spoke about you with respect, or so you thought. You were crafting medication day and night, and nearly everyone was coming to your door religiously every couple of days. You enjoyed the welcomed weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

It wasn't until a month passed that the villagers finally let you meet a scrawny pink-haired kid by the name of Yuji, who was some sort of an apprentice. Whose apprentice was he? The men all laughed when you asked them, looking smug as they claimed he was apprenticing for every master in the village.

What an odd thing to say, you thought, furrowing your brows. How could one boy be an apprentice to all of them?

Of course, he wasn't. He was a fae boy they have somehow captured and kept prisoner, making him do all sorts of manual labor because they knew his true name.

At first, you thought it was nothing but a shameful lie to keep a fatherless young man chained to his captors to make their bidding. Yuji was just a boy. He was young and smiley and helpful despite the abuse he had to endure every day, the villagers giving him the thoughest jobs under the pretense of his immense fairy powers. Where was he from? Why had no one tried to stop people from treating him so unfairly? He wasn't a caged animal. Yuji was a human being.

But then the blacksmith once handed him an iron girdle, a wicked smirk on his lips, and you saw the horror and pain reflected on Yuji's face when his fingers touched the metal, his palm immediately growing red as if the iron was still hot. He wailed, dropping the girdle on the ground while the blacksmith laughed at him like it was a joke of some kind, and you, caught off guard by such casual display of cruelty, ran to the boy to have a look at his injured hand.

He was, indeed, a fae. The iron to him was alike acid to humans, burning his flesh at the slightest touch.

The discovery shook you to the core, at one point making you question your sanity, but in that moment you were so preoccupied with the boy's injury you were more focused on helping him alleviate the pain and bandage his poor hand than worry about his fairy nature. Regardless of what villagers said, Yuji was gentle and proper. He didn't deserve such horrible treatment.

With every day, you grew more and more anxious, watching him casually bullied and hurt by the village folk for their own amusement. They made him touch iron, look into the mirrors that somehow brought him immense pain, forced him to work till sunset and even at night, and refused him food from to time. It was unbearable to watch a young boy being treated that way. It was no wonder you developed so much compassion and pity for him, soon sneaking in the hovel where he was allowed to sleep to feed him or bring him medication for his injuries. He was such a lovely boy, so bright and kind and sensitive, that it took you just a couple more weeks to agree to his plea to help him get out of this wicked place.

How could you have known of his true nature? You were but a naive, pure young girl. It was a given you were easy to manipulate, to be taken advantage of. A disaster waiting to happen.

You didn't even believe in the fair folk when you had first arrived in that god-forsaked village, but in a couple of months you took up on a quest to find another fae in the Drowned Forest and bring him to Yuji to set him free. When you think of it now, it's such a miracle you stayed alive. Walking straight into the Drowned Forest... what were you thinking back then? How could you be so stupid? That journey could have cost you your life, but you grew too desperate to protect Yuji against villagers' abuse.

Back then, you weren't sure how you stumbled upon another fae so fast, barely minutes into the charmed forest, but now you know he had been waiting for you. Yuji was biding his time because he knew one day a girl like you would appear and do what she could to free him. He was well-prepared, and you were eager to be deceived.

You didn't know what to expect from that exciting but inherently dangerous affair, and yet you didn't think the fae to just slaughter them all, all the human folk of the village. You heard them scream. Luckily, Yuji locked you in the barn where he used to sleep, and you avoided looking at the bloodshed, but their desperate, horryfying cries have been your constant companions for many years to come. You still hear them sometimes when you sleep.

When the menacing black-haired fae from the Drowned Forest grew in size, the marks on his forehead shining in the dark, claws elongating meyond measure, Yuji forced you into his barn, his usually gentle expression morphing into something sinister. He looked at you with mad glee, his fangs elongating, two arms splitting into six like he was mutating right in front of your very eyes, and as you crawled back, suddenly realizing the villagers were right about him, he cornered you, caging you with his large, muscular body, strange symbols engraved into his skin.

"A woman like you captured me," he whispered softly as you shook violently beneath him. "She was a clever little fox, and I lusted after her like a fool, letting her trick me into submission. All those years I spent like a dog on a chain... But I knew a woman like her would set me free."

________

His hand brushed a lock of your hair away from your face, and with the other one he took you by the chin, forcing you to look up at him, "Seven years I've waited in my cage, little bird. Seven years I'll give you to live your mundane life before I come for you."

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

[f14fun]

f1 abba inspired series

hey everyone! i have an abba-song inspired series in the drafts (since i got back from vaca and i'm still in a summery-mood and i love abba songs). hopefully it will be about three-five parts, each part a story for a different driver. each part will also have a minimum of 10K words, so this will be a prose series!

let me know if you guys want to see anything in particular!

chapter list ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ 01: lay all your love on me - op81 02: our last summer - cl16 03: under attack - gr63 04: mamamia - ob38

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01: lay all your love on me - op81 📍santorini, greece

On a summer getaway to Santorini, Greece, Y/N finds herself staying in a charming Airbnb with her family, soaking in the breathtaking views and vibrant atmosphere of the island. However, what was supposed to be a peaceful vacation takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that they’ll be sharing the house with none other than Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, who’s also vacationing with his family.

At first, the arrangement feels awkward, the two worlds of celebrity racing and her relatively normal life as a collegiate student colliding in the most unforeseen way. But as the days go by, the initial surprise gives way to something deeper. As they explore the sun-drenched beaches, dine in quaint tavernas, and experience the lively nightlife of Santorini, Y/N and Oscar find themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn’t anticipated.

As the sun sets over the Aegean Sea, and the lively energy of the island comes alive at night, Y/N and Oscar find themselves spending more time together, entertwined in a steamy and fast-paced romance. The backdrop of Santorini's iconic white-washed buildings, azure waters, and the laid-back Greek lifestyle set the stage for a summer romance that's as unexpected as it is intense.

02: our last summer - cl16 📍monte carlo, monaco

In the summer of 2018, both Charles and Y/N are on the brink of adulthood, just shy of their 18th birthdays. As they savor their final summer as teenagers, they find themselves reminiscing in the familiar, sun-drenched streets of Monte Carlo, where memories of childhood and dreams for the future intertwine in the warmth of the Mediterranean air.

As the days drift by, Charles and Y/N find themselves caught between the nostalgia of their shared past and the anticipation of what lies ahead. Every corner of Monte Carlo holds a memory—childhood races down the Promenade, late-night talks under the stars, and the countless summers spent by the azure waters. Charles, with a wistful smile, often finds himself retracing their old routes, savoring the familiar sights and sounds as if trying to imprint them in his memory before they part ways. Y/N, equally pensive, clings to the simple joys of their last summer together, finding solace in the shared silences and quiet moments that speak volumes.

But now, the city feels different, charged with the weight of impending change. They both know this summer marks the end of an era, a farewell to the carefree days of youth. Yet, amid the bittersweetness, there's an unspoken promise that whatever the future holds, Monte Carlo will always be the place where their story began.

03: under attack - gr63 📍majorca, spain

Global popstar Y/N, overwhelmed by the relentless pressures of fame and reeling from the heartbreak of discovering her partner's infidelity, decides she needs a serious escape. Desperate to get away from the prying eyes of the media and the public, she books a quiet trip to Mallorca, Spain, hoping to find some solace and rediscover herself amidst the island's tranquil beauty. But fate has other plans. In a chance encounter at a lively club’s bar, Y/N finds herself in a series of awkward and unexpected mishaps that leave her feeling more exposed than ever.

Just when she thinks her night can’t get any worse, George Russell, a familiar face from the world of Formula One, steps in. Sensing her distress and the unwanted attention she's drawing, George quickly concocts a plan and pretends to be her boyfriend for the night. As they navigate the evening together, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur, leaving Y/N to wonder if this unexpected encounter could lead to something more than just a fleeting escape. He's broken down her defenses, and what can you say, maybe she's just under attack.

04: mamamia - ob38 📍skiathos, greece

A series of misunderstandings, white lies, and the relentless demands of their busy lives have driven Y/N and her boyfriend of three years, Oliver Bearman, apart. The once inseparable couple now finds themselves estranged, their relationship seemingly hanging by a thread. Despite their love for each other, the distance and unresolved tensions have led to a painful separation.

However, their close-knit group of friends refuses to give up on them. Convinced that Y/N and Ollie just need some quality time away from the pressures of their everyday lives, they hatch a plan to bring the two back together. The friends secretly arrange for Y/N and Ollie to vacation in a secluded villa in Skiathos, Greece, for two weeks. Surrounded by the island's serene beauty, where the turquoise waters meet golden sands, the hope is that the couple will have the chance to reconnect, confront their issues, and rekindle the spark that first brought them together.

As Y/N and Ollie navigate the awkwardness of being thrown back together in such an idyllic setting, the old feelings start to resurface, but so do the unresolved issues that tore them apart. Amidst the breathtaking views and the romantic allure of Greece, they must decide whether their love is strong enough to overcome the obstacles that have come between them.

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comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[kckt88]

Let It Be Me II.

Summary:

Aemond must deal with concequences of his actions.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Mentions of Past Cheating, Alys, Slapping, Upset, Heartbreak, Grovelling, Mention of Smut, Childbirth.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N (PAST AEMOND X ALYS)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 7615

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @zenka69 @mivamoonlights @watercolorskyy @0eessirk8 @immyowndefender

Aemond stood there, paralyzed by the ache in his heart, his mind racing with regret and remorse. How could he have been so blind, so careless with her feelings? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with guilt.

Meanwhile, Alys lingered in the living room, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she observed the drama unfolding before her. The sight of Y.N's tears seemed to amuse her, feeding into her own twisted sense of satisfaction.

"Well, well-looks like someone's in for a rough night," Alys remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she turned to face Aemond. "I must say, I didn't expect this little reunion to be quite so entertaining.

"Why the fuck are you here, Alys?" Aemond demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory. "What could possibly possess you to waltz back into my life like this?"

Alys met his gaze with a cool indifference, her lips curling into a smug smile. "I missed you, Aemond," she replied casually, as if her words held no weight. "I thought maybe we could-pick up where we left off."

Aemond scoffed at her audacity, his disbelief giving way to a simmering anger. "Are you serious?" he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Our relationship ended for a reason, Alys. And there's no way I'm ever going back to you."

Alys's smile faltered slightly at Aemond's words, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. "Are you sure about that, Aemond?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

But Aemond's resolve remained steadfast, his determination unyielding. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," he declared, his voice firm and resolute. "Now, get the fuck out of my apartment and out my life"

Alys's expression hardened at his words, her facade of confidence crumbling before his eyes. In a desperate bid to regain control, she reached out to touch him, but Aemond recoiled, his body tensing with disgust.

"Don't touch me," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You have no right to be here, Alys. Now get out."

"Is this because of her?" asked Alys.

"Don't talk about Y.N-she's more of a woman than you'll ever be" snarled Aemond.

"Sure she is-" mocked Alys.

"Your a vile whore-get the fuck out"

"Y.N is obviously in love with you and you're so pathetic that you can't admit you love her in return." retorted Alys.

With a final, disdainful glance, Alys turned on her heel and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Aemond alone.

Aemond sank onto the couch, his mind swirling with regret and remorse. How many precious moments had he squandered, how many opportunities had he let slip through his fingers, all because of his own stupidity?

But as he sat there, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, a flicker of determination ignited within him. He refused to let fear and doubt hold him back any longer. He refused to let the love he felt for Y.N remain unspoken, buried beneath layers of denial and regret.

With a newfound resolve, Aemond rose to his feet, his heart pounding with a sense of purpose. He knew what he had to do, and he wouldn't waste another moment in hesitation.

He stood before Y.N's closed bedroom door, his heart pounding in his chest as he gathered the courage to speak the words he had kept locked away for far too long. With a trembling hand, he raised his fist and knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric from within the room. Aemond held his breath, waiting anxiously for Y.N's response, his heart hammering in his ears.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open a crack, revealing Y.N's tear-stained face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her expression guarded as she regarded him with a mixture of apprehension and disbelief.

"Aemond-what do you want?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her tone tinged with a hint of bitterness.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion as he met Y.N's gaze, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Y.N, I-I need to tell you something, and I should have said this to you a long time ago-" he began, his voice trembling with raw vulnerability. "-but I love you, I always have, and I was just too much of a coward to tell you-”

Y.N's eyes widened in shock at Aemond's confession, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of his words sank in. For a moment, she simply stared at him, her mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

But then, without a word, she reached out slapped him hard across the face and slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the silent apartment like a gunshot.

Aemond stood there with a hand pressed to his cheek, frozen in disbelief, his heart shattering into a million pieces as he realized the gravity of what had just transpired.

Tears welled up in his eye as he leaned against the closed door, the weight of rejection crushing him like a vice. He had laid his heart bare, exposed his deepest truths, only to be met with silence and indifference.

As he sank to the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, Aemond knew that he had lost the one person who meant everything to him.

In the aftermath of Aemond's confession, a heavy silence settled over the apartment, thick with tension and unspoken words. Y.N retreated into herself, her heart aching.

Days turned into weeks, and still, Y.N remained silent, her once vibrant spirit cloaked in a shroud of sorrow and uncertainty. She avoided Aemond at every turn, retreating into the safety of solitude as she grappled with the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

Aemond, haunted by the echo of Y.N's slamming door, and the sting of her hard slap. He longed to reach out to her, to plead for her forgiveness, but the chasm between them seemed insurmountable, a gaping void that threatened to swallow him whole.

He watched from afar as Y.N moved through the apartment like a ghost, her presence a silent reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Each glance, each fleeting glimpse only served to deepen the ache in his heart, a constant reminder of the love he had confessed and the pain it had wrought.

But no matter how he longed to bridge the gap between them, Y.N remained steadfast in her silence, her walls impenetrable as she withdrew further into herself.

"I don't know what to do," Aemond admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "Y.N won't even speak to me. I've ruined everything."

Aegon rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "Oh, stop whining," he chided, his tone laced with exasperation. "You should never have let Alys into the flat in the first place, what the fuck were you thinking".

Aemond's heart sank at his brothers' words, the truth of their observations hitting him like a ton of bricks. How could he have been so blind, so foolish?

"I know," Aemond murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I've been an idiot."

“A right cunt more like-“ snapped Aegon.

“-Like you can talk“ retorted Aemond.

“I don’t offer my sperm to my best friend who’s in love with me and then spend weeks fucking her, only to deny a relationship the first chance I get” said Aegon.

“I fucked up-don’t you think I know that. It’s just seeing Alys again; Y.N was standing there after telling me she was pregnant, and you should have seen the way Alys was looking at her-I panicked” said Aemond.

“Pfft like that mutton dressed as lamb could ever touch Y.N or do you not remember when she slapped her?”

“I recently found myself on the receiving end of Y.N’s slap, it’s not pleasant” muttered Aemond as he rubbed his cheek.

Daeron's patience wore thin as he watched his brother, Aemond, wallow in self-pity and indecision. With a heavy sigh, he decided it was time to intervene, to shake Aemond out of his stupor and confront the harsh reality before him.

"Aemond, do you have any idea what you put Y.N through?" Daeron began, his voice tinged with frustration. "After everything Alys did to you – the lies, the cheating, the verbal abuse – Y.N was there for you. She stood by your side through it all, supporting you, loving you, even when you couldn't see it".

Aemond winced at the reminder of his past with Alys, the memories still raw and painful. He knew Daeron was right, knew he had taken Y.N's unwavering support for granted, and for that, he felt a profound sense of guilt.

"I know, I’m a twat," Aemond admitted, his voice heavy with remorse.

Daeron's expression softened slightly, his gaze filled with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Then stop acting like one," he admonished gently. "You have a chance to make things right, to show Y.N how much she means to you. Don't waste it."

Aemond nodded solemnly, his resolve hardening with each word Daeron spoke.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he stepped through the door of their apartment, the weight of his resolve heavy upon him. But as he entered the familiar space, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight before him.

There, sitting on the sofa with a small bag packed at her feet, was Y.N. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression guarded as she met his gaze, a tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"Y.N-" Aemond began, his voice catching in his throat as he struggled to find the words. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

Y.N's gaze flickered with uncertainty as she regarded him, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "I'm going to stay with Helaena," she replied, her tone subdued. "I-I need some space, Aemond."

Aemond's heart clenched at her words, the reality of her departure hitting him like a punch to the gut. "Y.N, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't go. We need to talk."

But Y.N remained resolute; her decision made. "I can't do this right now, Aemond," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need time to think, to figure things out."

With a heavy heart, Aemond watched as Y.N gathered her things and made her way to the door.

As Y.N reached for the doorknob, her hand trembling with emotion, Aemond realised he couldn't let her go, couldn't bear the thought of losing her. With a surge of determination, he crossed the room in quick strides, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm gently but firmly.

"Y.N, wait," he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion as he looked into her eyes, his own filled with tears. "Please don't go."

Y.N's breath caught in her throat at the raw vulnerability in Aemond's voice, her heart aching at the sight of him crumbling before her. She turned to face him, her gaze softening as she took in the anguish etched upon his features.

"Aemond-" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

But Aemond couldn't hold back any longer. With a shuddering breath, he collapsed to his knees before her, his tears flowing freely as he bared his soul to her.

"I panicked, Y.N," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "When I saw Alys, I-I was too afraid to lose you. Too afraid to tell you how I feel."

"Aemond-" whispered Y.N

"I'm hopelessly in love with you, Y.N," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have been since the day you accidentally tipped hot coffee all over me. You've been there for me in a way no one else ever has."

"I love you too, but you've broken my heart," confessed Y.N, her voice trembling with sorrow.

"Please, Y.N," he pleaded, his words choked with tears. "I know I've made mistakes, but I love you. I'll do anything to make things right. Please forgive me."

Y.N's gaze softened as she looked down at him, her heart aching at the sight of his brokenness. She wanted to believe him, but the wound he had inflicted ran deep.

"Aemond, I want to believe you," she murmured, her voice filled with sadness. "But I need time. I need space to heal."

Aemond nodded, his shoulders slumping with resignation. "I understand," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y.N stood before him, her resolve firm as she made her decision. "I'm going to stay with Helaena” she told him gently. "But don't forget, the first scan for the baby is in a week's time."

With that, she turned and walked towards the door, leaving Aemond kneeling on the floor, his heart shattered into a million pieces. As the door clicked shut behind her, he let out a guttural sob, his tears flowing freely as he grappled with the weight of his mistakes.

For the next week, Aemond found himself trapped in a suffocating cycle of self-pity and anger. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, the bitter taste of whiskey doing little to numb the ache in his heart. With each passing day, his thoughts returned to Y.N, haunting him like a spectre of his own making.

In a desperate bid to win back her affections, Aemond bombarded Y.N with text messages, each one a testament to his remorse and undying love. He poured his heart out in words, apologizing for his mistakes, begging for her forgiveness, and declaring his unwavering devotion.

He even resorted to sending her poems, each verse a fragile echo of the love he felt for her. But no matter how eloquent his words or how heartfelt his pleas, Y.N remained silent, her silence a crushing reminder of his own failures.

As the days wore on, Aemond's desperation turned to frustration, then to bitterness. How could she ignore him like this? Didn't she understand how much he loved her; how much he needed her? She was pregnant with his child.

But deep down, he knew the truth. He had hurt her, betrayed her trust, and shattered her heart. And no amount of apologies or declarations of love could undo the damage he had done.

As Aemond made his way to the scan appointment, his heart weighed heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Each step felt like a journey through a minefield of emotions, his mind racing with thoughts of Y.N and the unborn child they shared.

Along the way, he passed by a quaint baby shop, its windows adorned with colourful displays of toys and trinkets. Aemond's gaze lingered on the storefront, a flicker of inspiration sparking within him.

Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, the chime of the bell overhead announcing his arrival. The air was filled with the soft hum of lullabies, and the shelves were lined with an array of adorable baby items.

Aemond's eyes scanned the shelves until they landed on a plush dragon teddy, its scales shimmering in the soft light.

With a sense of determination, Aemond reached out and picked up the stuffed toy, its soft fabric warm against his fingertips. In that moment, he knew that it was meant for their child, a symbol of hope and love in the midst of uncertainty.

As he made his way to the checkout counter, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of excitement building within him. Despite the challenges they faced, despite the mistakes he had made, he was determined to be the best father he could be.

As Aemond stepped into the clinic, his heart pounded with nervous anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, and the sound of muffled voices echoed through the sterile corridors. With each passing moment, his anxiety grew, his mind racing with thoughts of Y.N and the precious life they had created together.

Finally, he reached the door to the ultrasound room, his hand trembling slightly as he pushed it open. And there, bathed in soft light, was Y.N.

For a moment, Aemond was struck speechless by her beauty, by the radiant glow that seemed to emanate from within her. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

"Y.N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped forward to take her hand. "You look-you look amazing."

Y.N's smiled at his words, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, Aemond," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'm so glad you're here."

Aemond nodded breathlessly "I wouldn't miss this for the world," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

As Y.N lay on the examination table, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as the midwife's hesitation hung heavy in the air. Her mind raced with a thousand worries, each one more terrifying than the last.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear as she reached out for his hand. "What if-what if something's wrong?"

Aemond squeezed Y.N's hand reassuringly, his own heart racing with uncertainty. "Whatever it is, Y.N, we'll face it together," he vowed, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "I'll never leave your side."

But before Y.N could respond, the midwife's voice broke through the tense silence, her expression unreadable as she studied the monitor before her. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her next words.

And then, finally, the midwife spoke, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and excitement. "Y.N, Aemond-congratulations you're having twins."

Y.N's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected announcement, her heart soaring with a mixture of joy and disbelief. Twins? The thought seemed too incredible to be true.

But as she turned to look at Aemond, she was met with a sight that she never expected. His face as white as a sheet, then he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Aemond!" Y.N exclaimed, her panic rising as she reached out to shake him gently. "Aemond, wake up!"

With a groan, Aemond stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as he struggled to regain his senses. "What-what happened?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with confusion.

Y.N couldn't help but laugh through her tears at the sight of Aemond's dazed expression.

"We're having twins," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Aemond couldn't contain his excitement any longer. He reached into the small bag he carried, his hand wrapping around the plush dragon teddy he had purchased earlier.

"Y.N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion as he offered her the toy. "I, uh-I got this for the baby. Well, for one of them at least."

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise as she accepted the stuffed toy, her fingers brushing over its soft scales. "Aemond, it's beautiful," she murmured, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, his own heart swelling with joy. "Yeah, but we might need another one," he added with a grin. "You know, since it's twins and all."

Y.N's eyes widened in shock at his words, her hand flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Twins?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder and excitement.

Aemond nodded, his heart overflowing with happiness. "Twins," he confirmed, his voice filled with pride.

Aemond couldn't contain his excitement as he led Y.N back to the baby shop. The air was alive with the sound of soft lullabies and the sight of colourful baby items lining the shelves.

Y.N's eyes lit up with wonder as she took in the array of adorable baby clothes, toys, and accessories. "Oh, Aemond, look at these tiny onesies!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with delight as she reached out to touch the soft fabric.

Aemond couldn't help but smile at her excitement, his heart swelling with love as he watched her browse the shelves. But as they wandered through the aisles, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

He noticed a woman watching him from across the room, her gaze lingering on him with a suggestive smile. Aemond's jaw clenched with irritation.

But the woman didn't take the hint. She sauntered over to Aemond, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned in close. "Hey there, handsome," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Y.N's smile faltered as she caught sight of the woman, her heart sinking at the realization of what was happening. Aemond's expression darkened with anger, his grip on Y.N's hand tightening as he stepped in front of her.

"Listen, lady," he growled, his voice cold and steely. "I have a girlfriend, and I'm not interested. Now, if you'll excuse us-"

The woman's smile faltered as she caught the intensity in Aemond's gaze, her bravado crumbling in the face of his anger. With a muttered apology, she turned and hurried away, leaving Aemond and Y.N alone once more.

As the tension from the encounter with the woman in the shop eased, Aemond turned to Y.N, his heart heavy with regret. "I'm sorry about that he said, his voice tinged with remorse.

Y.N reached out and gently squeezed his hand, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's okay, Aemond," she reassured him, her eyes soft with understanding.

Aemond felt a rush of gratitude wash over him at her words, a sense of relief flooding through his veins. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

But Y.N's smile faltered slightly as she met his gaze, her eyes searching his for a moment before she spoke. "You know, Aemond," she began hesitantly, "You're a handsome man. It's only natural that other women would be drawn to you."

Aemond's brow furrowed with confusion at her words, his mind spinning with uncertainty. "Y.N, I don't want other women," he said firmly, his voice laced with determination. "I want you."

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise at his confession, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. "Aemond-" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Aemond wasn't finished. He reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that welled in her eyes. "You're the only one I want, Y.N," he murmured, his voice filled with love and devotion. "I love you, and I always will."

"You called me your girlfriend."

Aemond's cheeks flushed slightly at her remark, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, it's true," he admitted, his voice soft and sincere. "You're my everything."

Y.N's heart swelled with love at his words, her eyes shining with affection as she reached out to take his hand. "And you're mine," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness.

As they walked out of the baby shop, Aemond couldn't shake the weight of guilt that still lingered in his heart. He knew he had to address what had happened with Alys, to make things right with Y.N and ensure that they moved forward together.

"Y.N," he began, his voice soft and apologetic, "I need to talk to you about what happened with Alys. I should have told her right away that we're together. I'm so sorry for not handling it properly."

Y.N's gaze softened as she listened to Aemond's words, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. "Aemond, it's okay," she reassured him, her voice gentle but firm. "I understand that it was a difficult situation considring what she did to you”.

Aemond nodded, grateful for her understanding but still overwhelmed by his own remorse. "I know, but-I don't want to rush things. If you're not ready to come back to the apartment just yet, I understand," he offered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

But before he could say another word, Y.N placed a finger on his lips, silencing him with a tender smile. "Aemond, I want to go home with you," she said softly, her eyes filled with love and determination. "Because wherever you are, that's where I belong."

“Y.N-“ whispered Aemond.

"But know this-" she said, her voice low and menacing. "-If you ever hurt me again, I won't hesitate to rip your balls off and make you eat them”.

Aemond's mouth went dry at the severity of her words, the weight of her threat settling heavily in his chest.

Aemond couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle at Y.N's threat, though he knew she was dead serious. "You know, Y.N, I have to admit-there's something kind of hot about you when you're angry," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y.N shot him a glare that could have melted steel, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips despite her best efforts to stay mad. "Don't even try to charm your way out of this one, Aemond," she warned, her voice tinged with amusement. "You've got a lot of making up to do."

Aemond nodded solemnly, his expression contrite. "I know, I know. Starting with those cheesy omelettes I make, right?" he replied, a playful twinkle in his eye.

Y.N rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Yes, starting with the cheesy omelettes," she confirmed.

“Then after we can go to bed?"

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, her cheeks flushing with colour. "Aemond, I-I don't know," she stammered, her voice betraying her uncertainty.

But Aemond pressed on, his gaze locked with hers, his heart laid bare. "I just want to hold you” he whispered; his voice filled with longing. "To feel close to you again”

Y.N's resolve wavered at his words, her heart softening at the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew that she shouldn't give in so easily, that Aemond still had a lot of making up to do. But she also couldn't deny the longing in her own heart, the desire to feel his touch once more.

With a small nod, she reached out and took his hand in hers, her eyes shining with unspoken affection. "Okay, Aemond-cheesy omelettes and then bed-for cuddles” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Cuddles-exactly” replied Aemond.

True to his word after he made Y.N as many cheesy omelette’s as she wanted, and when they went to bed he held her all night, even though his cock throbbed with need, he ignored it and for the first time in a week, he slept the whole night, the sweet scent of Y.N enveloping him like a blanket.

As Y.N's pregnancy progressed, Aemond was by her side every step of the way, his unwavering support a constant source of comfort and reassurance. But as the weeks turned into months, Y.N's pregnancy brought with it a new set of challenges, chief among them being her extreme morning sickness.

Aemond watched helplessly as Y.N struggled through each day, her face pale and drawn, her stomach churning with nausea. He did everything he could to ease her discomfort, fetching her glasses of water, preparing bland meals, and rubbing her back as she hunched over the toilet.

But no matter what he did, Y.N's morning sickness persisted, leaving her feeling weak and exhausted. Aemond couldn't bear to see her suffering, his heart breaking with each bout of nausea she endured.

"I'm so sorry, Y.N," he murmured, his voice laced with guilt as he gently brushed the hair away from her forehead. "I wish there was more I could do to help."

Y.N managed a weak smile, her eyes filled with gratitude as she reached out to squeeze his hand. "You're doing everything you can," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y.N's pregnancy hormones wreaked havoc on her emotions, turning her mood swings into a rollercoaster ride that Aemond struggled to keep up with. One moment, she was seething with anger at him about Alys, the next, she was showering him with affection, craving his touch and pleading with him to take her to bed.

As the pregnancy progressed, Aemond had could only take her when she was laying on her side in bed, but he made sure she was comfortable and relaxed as he slowly thrust his cock into her.

Of course when it came to her milk swollen breasts, Aemond was more than happy to use them as pillows, he would regularly rest his face in between them and sigh with happiness.

Aemond did his best to navigate the turbulent waters of Y.N's emotions, offering her patience and understanding even when her temper flared. But it wasn't easy, and there were times when he found himself at a loss for how to comfort her.

Then, one day, as Y.N sat on the edge of their bed, tears streaming down her face, Aemond gathered her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"I love you so much, Aemond," Y.N whispered between sobs, her voice raw with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness as he listened to Y.N's confession, his own emotions swirling with a mixture of love and longing.

Wrapping his arms around her, Aemond pressed a gentle kiss to Y.N's forehead, his heart overflowing with love for the woman who held his heart in her hands.

"I love you too, Y.N," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the evening settled in, casting a soft golden glow over the room, Aemond found himself drawn to Y.N's side. With a tender smile, he settled himself beside her on the bed, his heart swelling with anticipation as he gazed down at her swollen stomach.

Gently, he rested his head against her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his cheek. Closing his eyes, he savoured the sensation, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath soothing him like a lullaby.

And then, as if in response to his presence, Aemond felt a tiny flutter beneath his ear, followed by a series of gentle kicks against his cheek. His eyes flew open in wonder, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of life stirring within Y.N's womb.

"They're kicking," Aemond murmured, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "Can you feel that Y.N?"

Y.N smiled down at him, her eyes shimmering with love and pride. "Yes," she whispered, her hand coming to rest on top of Aemond's head. "They must know their daddy's here."

Aemond's heart swelled with emotion at her words, his fingers tracing gentle circles over Y.N's stomach as he marvelled at the miracle of life growing inside her.

And as he lay there, with his head resting against Y.N's swollen belly, feeling the gentle movements of their unborn children beneath his fingertips, Aemond knew that this was where he belonged – here, with Y.N, and their growing family.

With his heart pounding in his chest and a nervous flutter in his stomach, Aemond took a deep breath and reached for Y.N's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as he gazed into her eyes.

"Y.N," he began, his voice trembling with emotion. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you-"

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat as she realized what was happening. She could feel the weight of Aemond's words hanging in the air, filling the room with a sense of anticipation.

"Aemond, what is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes shining with hope and excitement.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Aemond drew in a steadying breath before continuing.

"Y.N, from the moment we met, you've been my rock, my constant source of strength and support. You've stood by me through everything, and I am endlessly grateful for your love and devotion."

Aemond's gaze never wavered as he spoke, his eyes filled with a fierce determination.

"I love you more than words can express, Y.N," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. So, Y.N, will you marry me?"

The words hung in the air, charged with emotion as Y.N's heart swelled with love and joy. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into Aemond's eye, seeing the depth of his love reflected back at her.

"Yes, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, a thousand times yes."

I don't want to wait," he confessed, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

Y.N's brow furrowed in confusion, but she could see the earnestness in Aemond's eyes, the depth of his desire to make her his wife before their children entered the world.

"Aemond, what do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I mean I want to marry you, Y.N. I want you to be my wife before our babies are born," Aemond declared, his words coming out in a rush as he poured his heart out to her.

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart swelling with love at the depth of Aemond's devotion.

"But what about a ceremony?" she asked, her mind spinning with the implications of Aemond's proposal.

"We can have another ceremony after the babies are born, a big celebration with all our friends and family," Aemond suggested, his voice filled with excitement. "But right now, I just want you to be my wife, Y.N. I want us to be a family before our little ones arrive."

Tears welled up in Y.N's eyes as she looked into Aemond's eyes, seeing the love and sincerity shining bright within them.

"Okay, Aemond," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Let's do it. Let's get married."

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the city as Aemond and Y.N made their way to the courthouse, their hearts aflutter with excitement and anticipation. Aemond's hand trembled slightly as he clasped Y.N's in his own, the weight of their decision settling over them like a warm embrace.

As they stepped inside the courthouse, they were greeted by Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena, who had all gathered to bear witness to their union. Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of his family standing beside him, their support a comforting presence on this momentous day.

Y.N's eyes sparkled with joy as she took in the familiar faces of their loved ones, her heart filled with love and gratitude for the family she was about to officially become a part of.

Dressed in a long flowing cream dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, Y.N looked every bit the picture of elegance and grace. Her long dark hair was elegantly plaited, cascading down her back in a soft wave, and Aemond couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her beauty.

"You look stunning, Y.N," Aemond whispered, his voice filled with awe as he took her in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Y.N's cheeks flushed with colour at his words, a radiant smile lighting up her face. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't imagine spending this day with anyone else but you."

And as they stood hand in hand before the judge, their loved ones gathered around them, Aemond felt a sense of peace wash over him. In that moment, surrounded by the ones they loved most, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the judge pronounced them husband and wife, Aemond's heart swelled with joy and love, his hand tightening around Y.N's as they exchanged tender smiles. They were finally married, their vows spoken, and their love sealed for eternity.

But as they turned to face their loved ones, ready to celebrate their newfound union, Y.N's expression shifted, her hand flying to her swollen belly as a look of shock crossed her face.

"Aemond-my water just broke," she gasped, her voice tinged with disbelief.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned to look at Y.N, their expressions a mixture of concern and excitement. Aemond's heart pounded in his chest as he realized what was happening – their babies were coming, and they were coming now.

"Are you okay, Y.N?" Aemond asked, his voice filled with concern as he gently guided her to a nearby chair.

Y.N nodded, her face pale but determined. "I'm okay, Aemond," she replied, her voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. "But we need to get to the hospital”.

Without a moment's hesitation, Aemond sprang into action, rallying their family to help them make their way to the hospital. Amidst the flurry of activity, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief at the timing of it all – their wedding day turning into the day they would become parents.

"We're going to be okay, Y.N," he whispered, his voice filled with determination as they sped towards the hospital. "We're in this together, now and always."

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Aemond manoeuvred the car through the bustling streets, his focus unwavering as he raced towards the hospital. Beside him, Y.N's grip on his hand was tight, her face contorted with pain as she fought through each contraction.

"We're almost there, Y.N," Aemond reassured her, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Just hold on a little longer."

Minutes stretched into eternity as they finally arrived at the hospital, the medical staff rushing to Y.N's side as they whisked her away to the delivery room.

Y.N's grip tightened around his hand as another contraction swept through her, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Aemond could see the pain etched on her face, the strain of labour taking its toll on her body.

"You're doing great, Y.N," he murmured, his voice filled with love and admiration. "Just a little while longer, and we'll get to meet our babies."

Y.N managed a weak smile at his words, her eyes shining with tears. "I can't do this" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's heart clenched at her words, his own eye filling with tears. "Yes, you can, Mrs Targaryen" he replied, his voice choked with emotion.

As the hours passed, Aemond never left Y.N's side, offering words of encouragement and support as she laboured bravely through each contraction. And when the moment finally arrived, when their babies entered the world with cries of new life, Aemond felt a rush of overwhelming joy and gratitude wash over him.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen," she announced, her voice filled with warmth. "You have a beautiful boy and girl."

Aemond's heart soared with joy at the news, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he followed the nurse into the delivery room. And there, cradled in Y.N's arms, were their precious babies – a boy and a girl, their tiny fingers curled around each other in a silent embrace.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Aemond sank to his knees beside Y.N's bedside, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch their newborns for the first time.

"They're beautiful, Y.N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

As Aemond cradled his newborn son and daughter in his arms, he couldn't help but marvel at their striking resemblance to him. Their delicate features mirrored his own, from their tufts of blonde hair to the shape of their noses.

"They look just like you, Aemond," Y.N whispered, her voice filled with awe as she gazed down at their precious babies.

Aemond's heart swelled with pride at the sight of his newborn son and daughter, their tiny faces a reflection of his own. He gently brushed his fingers over their soft cheeks, marvelling at the miracle of their existence.

"They're perfect," he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion as he looked up at Y.N.

With a smile, Y.N reached out to stroke her son’s cheek, her heart overflowing with love for her husband and their beautiful children. "And what should we name them?" she asked, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Aemond's gaze softened as he looked down at their newborn son, his heart filled with love and pride. "Naethan," he said, his voice filled with certainty.

"And our daughter?" Y.N prompted, her eyes shining with excitement.

Aemond's smile widened as he looked down at their tiny daughter. "Naerys," he said, his voice filled with reverence.

As the news of the twins' arrival spread, excitement rippled through the hospital corridors, drawing Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron like moths to a flame. Bursting into the room, their faces lit up with joy as they caught sight of the newborns cradled in Aemond and Y.N's arms.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" Helaena exclaimed, her eyes shining with tears as she moved closer to get a better look.

Daeron nodded in agreement, a proud smile spreading across his face. "Congratulations, Aemond, Y.N. They're absolutely perfect."

Aegon, ever the joker, couldn't resist adding his own comment as he peered down at the tiny bundles of joy. "At least Aemond didn't faint this time," he quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Y.N chuckled at Aegon's remark, her heart light with laughter despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her. "Yes, thankfully he managed to stay upright this time," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement.

Aemond rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his brother's teasing, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'll have you know, I was perfectly composed" he said, his voice filled with mock indignation.

“Until next time” laughed Aegon.

“N-Net time?” questioned Aemond as he looked over at Y.N who smiled sleepily.

As Y.N stepped out of the bathroom, the warm steam of the bath still clinging to her skin, she couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted her in the bedroom. There, sitting on the bed, was Aemond, shirtless, with Naerys and Naethan nestled against his chest, their tiny bodies rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath.

Her heart swelled with love at the sight, her breath catching in her throat as she watched her husband cradle their newborn twins with such tenderness and care. In that moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for the man who had become the father of her children, his love for them shining bright in every touch and every glance.

Aemond looked up as Y.N entered the room, a warm smile spreading across his face at the sight of her. "Hey," he whispered, his voice soft so as not to disturb their slumbering babies. "They finally fell asleep."

Y.N moved closer, her heart overflowing with love as she settled herself beside Aemond on the bed. Gently, she reached out to brush her fingers over Naerys' soft hair, marveling at the delicate features of their daughter.

"They're so beautiful, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "Just like their father."

Aemond's cheeks flushed with colour at her words, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of his sleeping children. "I couldn't have asked for a better life than this," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“Me either” replied Y.N

Aemond's eyes twinkled mischievously as he glanced over at Y.N, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "So you’re glad that I offered my sperm then?" he teased, his tone light and playful.

Y.N couldn't help but laugh at his remark, her heart swelling with affection for the man who never failed to bring joy and laughter into their lives. "I suppose I am," she replied, her voice filled with amusement.

As the months passed, Naethan and Naerys grew happy and healthy under the loving care of Aemond and Y.N. Their home was filled with laughter and joy as the twins reached each new milestone, their bond as siblings growing stronger with each passing day.

And then, one evening as they sat together in the cozy living room, Y.N took Aemond's hand in hers, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Aemond, I have something to tell you," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

Aemond looked at her curiously, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her radiant smile. "What is it, Y.N?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

Y.N took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling with joy as she spoke. "I'm pregnant again," she announced, her voice filled with wonder.

Aemond's eyes widened in surprise, his heart swelling with happiness at the news. "Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

And as they shared a tender embrace, surrounded by the love of their growing family, Aemond knew that their home would soon be filled with even more laughter and joy, as they welcomed their newest addition into the world.

Aemond and Y.N's family continued to grow, filled with love and laughter when Y.N gave birth to their third child, a son they named Aelor.

Two years later, they welcomed another daughter, Saella, into their family, her arrival greeted with the same love and excitement as her siblings. With four children, they felt their family was complete, their hearts full to bursting with the love they shared.

But fate had other plans in store for them, and one evening, as they sat together in the warm glow of their living room, Y.N felt a familiar flutter in her belly, a feeling she hadn't experienced in years.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I might be pregnant again."

Aemond's eye widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at the news. "Another one?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "But how?"

Y.N shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. "Blame it on the alcohol," she joked, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

And so, nine months later, they welcomed their fifth child, another daughter they named Valaena, into their family, her arrival taking them completely by surprise. But as they gazed down at her tiny face an exact replica of her mother, their hearts overflowing with love, they knew that their family was complete, their home filled with the love and laughter of their five precious children.

[sscieloz]

Just Pretend

Im Nayeon x member!reader

Synopsis: looking back on the day it happened.

Warnings: angst. overdosing. hard use of drugs. self-harm. agressive behaviors.

Word count: 3.4k

Notes: -

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6

Without them, you are worth nothing.

The manager’s words echoed in your head as you entered the apartment, dragging your feet in exhaustion.

He wasn’t wrong, as much as it hurt to admit. You were far from being the most popular member, often preferring to be in the back and step aside to give your bandmates the spotlight. You weren’t as good of a singer as Jihyo, delicate as Mina or as smooth of a dancer as Momo. You’d never be half as good as your bandmates were, no matter how much you practiced and worked to improve. You knew that, they knew that; it was a well-known fact, even though everyone refused to acknowledge out loud.

Were you ever going to be anything other than mediocre?

The thoughts were overwhelming, running through your head at high speed. You threw yourself in your massive bed, the pillow muffling your screams as you tried your best to suffocate, shrink and just disappear. You felt the tiredness up in your bones, the weight heavy and crushing down on your lungs until you were unable to breathe; all you could do was choke in your tears, grasping desperately for a comfort that would never be provided to you.

You were trying so hard. Every day, you did the best you could to keep speaking, breathing, working. Why did no one recognize that?

Why were your efforts never enough?

You screamed, yet no one came. No one heard; no one cared.

You’d once told your bandmates you didn’t mind living alone —you were used to it, after all. Being raised in a small family, it was only natural for you to seek a place for yourself after the girls decided to leave the dorms. You had opted for complete silence and privacy, just as you secretly wished after so many years of a chaotic dorm life with your bandmates.

As much you were thankful for the times you had shared: the late night talks, being spoiled by the older girls, or just hanging out together 24/7… you missed the loneliness your body had grown up with, being alone most of the day as a little girl while waiting for your parents to return home, from work.

That’s what you had told them: you didn’t mind living by yourself. It was quiet, organized, and nice, surely different from the life you’ve experienced as a trainee, but nothing you weren’t used to. You liked being able to relax, to be vulnerable without having to worry about being caught. This way, you didn’t have to think about being a burden to your bandmates, no matter how much they’d argue against it.

That’s how you’ve always seen yourself. As a burden, an unnecessary member, a selfish human being and most importantly, a horrible friend to your bandmates, who you loved to pieces. You’d never be worthy of them. Would never be half of all they were.

A failure. That’s the only thing you excelled at being.

Your mind, the thoughts… it was too much of a burden. You were— you’ve been exhausted for so long. If only the intensity of the memories, the hypothetic situations plotted in your mind would cease, even if just for a few seconds. Then you’d rest, finally, without them bothering and being an ache in your head. Silence, at last. You’d do anything to have it, no matter if the quietude was for a single minute.

After what seemed so long, your loud sobs faded to whimpers, and the banging in your head resumed to a fading headache. With that, you were able to think a little clearer, although still deeply hurt. Your mind went immediately to your unnies, seeking comfort. You knew they’d be more than eager to help you, doing everything in their power to make you feel better — however you simply couldn’t; it was almost like something physical; your stomach prickled, and you felt like throwing up every time you thought about bothering them, even more to talk about something as stupid as your feelings. No, you couldn’t. They were all also struggling, each with their own demons to battle. You’d never ask for help.

Even though you desperately needed it.

As you sat down on the bed, you thought about your oldest bandmate, Nayeon. Always so energetic, with her bunny smile and an infinite wish to have fun and enjoy her life. Picturing her big, loving eyes, you know just what to do to forget such heavy feelings that nested and suffocated your heart.

-

“I’m sorry, Y/nnie.” Nayeon’s voice sounded baffled through the phone, since she was clearly in a loud space. You recalled the oldest member talking about shooting for a magazine, but you didn’t quite remember the details. “Could you repeat yourself? What is it that you want, my dear?”

You took another long gulp of your mixed drink — it tasted awful, since you’ve never seemed to get the dosage of alcohol right, but you didn’t really care. All you wanted was to numb the pain and silence the thoughts, anyway. “That skirt of yours, unnie. The one you were wearing at Louis Vuitton’s fashion show? I also have a shooting later today, and I’d really, really like to wear it. Please?”

She took long to answer, and you weren’t sure if it was because she was busy or simply wondering what was happening to you. Once again, you hated yourself for disturbing her, but the desperation in your bones hurt enough that you’d do anything for it to stop.

“I don’t remember you having a solo shooting anytime soon, baby. It wasn’t mentioned in our monthly meetings, at the company. Who is it for? Tell me all about it, maknae. I want to know.” You could hear people calling her, throughout the line — but she was quick to silence them all, asking for a few more minutes of break. Nayeon’s smart, and knows you too well. She was aware something felt off: whether it was the heaviness in your tone, or how you were stuttering slightly, the words coming out unclear and hesitant.

You were prepared for it, though. You’ve rehearsed all of your words before dialing her number.

“It was a last-time arrangement.” You answered promptly, walking around in your apartment. “Manager-im said the company didn’t really want it, but they’ve let me do it today, finally. It’s for ELLE Korea.”

Nayeon hummed, and you could imagine her shoulders relaxing in her shooting’s dressing room.

She was falling right into your trap.

“Oh, wonderful.” She was probably smiling, her bunny teeth all in display, and the thought of that made you guiltier than ever. You were despicable, not worthy of her love at all. You needed punishment, to hurt and to— “I’m free in a few hours, then I was supposed to meet Momo for dinner. Maybe you could join us, my love? I’ll give you the skirt there, then. You’ve been so distant later, Y/n. Me and all the girls… we miss you.”

Her words forged a bulge in your throat, your defenses falling off instantly. You did your best to hold the hiccups that threatened to leave your lips, frail and insecure. Nayeon’s warmth always made you feel so small, cared for and comforted. Any words from her are enough for you to go running into her arms, crying and confessing all of your deepest fears to the oldest member.

It was an easy thing to do, in theory. But in reality, how hard it was to know you were surrounded by care, yet a thick wall prevented you from feeling the love you so desperately claimed for.

“C-can’t I just stop by your house and grab it, unnie? I’ll be quick and won’t make a mess, I p-promise.” You couldn’t tell her how much you were hurting. The words didn’t come out, they never did. You’ve tried to do so countless times.

They’d never know your troubles, your pain. And it was your fault.

Nayeon sighs, and you know she’s tired. You were exhausted, too.

Regardless of anything, though, you were still the maknae. The girls always granted all of your wishes.

“Sure, baby. I’ll message the doorman so he’ll let you in. You know the code, right?” She was respecting your time, giving you as much space as you needed, to heal from the demons she did not comprehend.

Again, you didn’t deserve her.

“I do.” You bit your lip, unsure of how to express yourself. After so long of keeping your soul hidden, it’s difficult to let the light shine through. “Thank you, unnie. I love you.”

She knew you weren't talking about her skirt.

“And I love you, my dear. We all do, very much.” You heard another muffled voice, sounding much more incisive, even though you couldn’t understand the words clearly. “I’ll talk to you later, ok? Call me whenever.”

You hung up, somehow feeling worse than before.

-

Nayeon’s apartment is a familiar scenery to you. It’s where your most precious memories live, from times when you weren’t so broken and scared. Tracing the walls with your fingers, you reminisced the best ones: weekly movie nights with the girls, the times when Momo baked you cookies because you were feeling down. Being alone in Nayeon’s lavish, grand place feels weird— almost wrong. As if you’re entering a dangerous part of your brain, one you kept carefully hidden because looking back at it hurt too much.

Have you always been like that? So dull and lost?

It’s winter, and Nayeon’s not home, so it’s only natural that the house is cold. However, you felt a different type of freezing feeling in your bones. One so strong it left you shivering, mouth colorless and fists closed, your long nails inflicting pain upon the palms of your hands so you’d focus the discomfort somewhere else, if not your entire body.

Her room, messy as always, brought enough comfort that you found yourself smiling; at least some things never changed. You went straight to her closet, although not for the excuse you’ve told your unnie. Her skirt was there, naturally — but you were looking for something entirely different.

Nayeon has always been energetic. She enjoyed socializing, partying, and, most importantly, having fun. You know it well.

Her personality was the reason she had the perfect distraction for you. At least for a few moments, the thoughts would cease. You’d no longer feel the heavy burden that was being alive. Silence, that’s all you wanted.

You already knew where to look. You’d caught her reaching out for it before attending Jennie’s birthday party. ‘Just to have a little fun, love.’ she had told you. In the last drawer on the left, behind layers of thick winter sweaters and scarfs, the drugs she’d use recreationally were carefully packed in a small metallic box, sparkling at your touch.

Your phone lit up, the familiar notification sounds distracting you from your task. You put your phone on DND, leaving it on one of Nayeon’s jewelry drawers as

your trembling hands held a small sealed package, filled with pills. You hated smoking — the smoke irritated your throat, and somehow you’d never gotten a high, so you found it awful. You despised the taste of alcohol too, often choosing not to drink during gatherings, which cooperated to your title of baby of the group.

Being naturally shy, and more reserved than the others — as well as the youngest, meant you’ve been protected your whole life. Whether it was your family, your members, or the staff, people have always been somehow gentle to you: giving you less revealing clothes, so you’d be comfortable, answering evasive questions in your place, giving you relationship advice and warnings in advance, protecting you from possible dispatch scandals… and most importantly, giving you the drug lecture. You’ve heard it countless times, about how drugs led to addiction and its side effects destroyed people’s lives, along with their loved ones.

But Nayeon used them, and you were sure the other girls were no saints, either. You were all grown women, aware of your actions. Besides, didn’t you deserve peace? You’ve asked Nayeon about what it felt like before, which was why you were sure it was just what you needed.

An escape, something to distract yourself from the rage and the pain, to have you relax for a bit. What were some substances to a body that was already filled with numbness? You just wanted it all to stop, to not feel so overwhelmed. You wanted to be a better idol, a better daughter, a better friend. But you knew that, for such thing to happen, you’d have to be born again; to be someone else.

You could never be anything but mediocre.

That was the reason, even though you were afraid, you still gathered some pills in your hands, looking at them with tears in your eyes. You struggled to breathe, and you lacked courage.

Even that you couldn’t do. A coward — no, you refused to be called that. With a deep sigh, you took a single one, at first.

I did nothing to ease your nerves. You were curious, and so desperately wanted the thoughts to stop, so you took another handful of them. You had never taken anything before, you had no idea how it worked. You expected something immediate, brief but strong, but instead, you just felt the usual numbness. Worse than that, you were starting to overthink about what such substances would do to you. Were you that useless that they didn’t work?

Instead of feeling light and bubbly, you simply felt like you had to throw up. Your entire body was prickling, and your long nails furiously scratched your skin in hopes I’d stop. There wasn’t enough air — as if you forgot how to breathe. It was a mechanic movement, and it terrified you, having to remember to recharge your lungs at every second. Despite the cold, your palms started sweating, and you felt sore and dizzy.

This wasn’t at all how you’d envisioned it. The thoughts were not gone, they’ve worsened, instead. They passed like flashes through your head, a million possible outcomes being presented to you through horrible insights, like you were a character living a thousand lives.

It terrified you. You didn’t want any of it anymore. It was all a terrible mistake.

After what felt like hours, you managed to get up from where you had been kneeling all this time. Balance had left your body, and you felt truly sorry for breaking one of the pretty vases that hung near the tv in your unnie’s room, as well as tearing down many little objects she had left dangling through her drawers. Leaning on anything you could see with your shitty vision, the ground moved like you were in a roller coaster.

You’d have to apologize for making her room even messier, later. Great; one more thing to feel guilty about.

Somehow, you managed to reach her on-suite bathroom. Your hands were now vigorously shivering, a clear message you were not well in the slightest. You needed it to stop, to do something, anything. Feeling heavy with regret, and desperation, you opened her mirror to reach out for your other option: Nayeon’s sleeping pills. Surely, sleeping through all this mess would make it pass quickly. You’d deal with all the consequences later. At the moment, you only needed to rest.

The medicine worked: you felt better instantly, no longer like you were going to throw up at any instant. Calming down, you were able to think clearly, although your heartbeat echoed loudly through the silent house. For the first time in weeks, you stared at yourself through the mirror.

The girl that started back scared you. Your hair lacked its usual thickness and shine. Your eyes were dull, lifeless, with heavy eyebags. And you were thin, so much your current clothes looked huge under yourself, as if they were someone else’s.

Maybe they were.

Those were your last thoughts before the world went pitch black. You lost control of your legs, and slowly felt your body getting closer to the ground. The world finally went silent, and it felt like you’d finally rest.

-

Nayeon knew something was wrong from the moment you called her.

Her nervousness only went further once the doorman confirmed to her that you had indeed gone to her apartment, but he hadn’t seen you leave ever since. In her heart, she already knew what was up.

Just refused to acknowledge it.

“Y/n?” Momo’s voice reverberated through the cold open area of her duplex’s first floor, not getting any response.

It’s okay. She told herself, trying to calm her heart, that felt like was going to fall from her chest. Y/n’s always been quiet. It’s okay. She’s okay.

Both women walked slowly to Nayeon’s master bedroom, looking at each other briefly before entering the room. The oldest gave Momo a faint nod before opening the door, unsure of what to expect.

Her room was normal, as much as it could be. It was a mess, naturally — her mess, but something felt.. off. There were a few things splashed on the ground that she was sure that were not her doing, and… her vase was broken?

What had Y/n done?

The lights of the closet were still on, so it was were she rushed, not looking back to see if Momo would follow. Truthfully, she hoped her friend and ex roommate didn’t.

She sighed in relief once she didn’t find the maknae in the room, but the scenery was not what she was prepared to see. Her drugs, the ones she’d hidden so carefully were all messy on the ground, in all the possible places.

It clicked, then. Your questions, the innocent curiosity whenever you’d mention about it… Nayeon suddenly felt so, so stupid. And deeply worried, too. She felt her rapid breathing as her shaky fingers shoved the drugs back to the drawer, a single question roaming like a silent scream inside her head.

Where was her baby maknae?

Nayeon didn’t have to wait long, though. A terrified scream followed her worried thoughts, confirming her deepest fears.

She didn’t want to look. Couldn’t master the courage to do so.

With her mouth dry, she forced herself to get up and follow Momo’s gasps. The sight presented to herself was one she was sure she’d see in her nightmares every day until she died.

It would haunt her forever.

Momo laid beside your fragile frame on the ground, vomit splashed in your shiny, porcelain ground. Nayeon didn’t mind that — she’s taken care of her members while they were passed out drunk many times, but what terrified was the way your body moved, limp yet frantic, a pool of white foam leaving your mouth while your eyes, while and lifeless, showed no signs of conscience.

She’s had a bad seizure. They doctors would explain to Nayeon, later.

It looked like hell on earth. Her baby, shaking so much there was blood on your head, hurt from the repetitive movements.

“U-unnie?” Momo’s voice faltered, her body covering half of the tragedy. It was selfish, but she was grateful for that. That she hadn’t seen it all. “Call the ambulance.” She was crying, Nayeon noticed, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move — she was useless, frozen, unable to do anything to help.

Momo’s hands went to your hands, trying to lock your arms in attempts of making you stop moving so aggressively and stop hurting yourself, even in your unconsciousness. “Unnie? Ambulance. NOW.”

Momo’s desperate tone is what brings Nayeon back from her trance. Her movements are mechanic, and she has no memory of the words she’d told the operator.

The only thing Nayeon truly remembers is holding Momo’s hands in the way to the hospital, as salty tears clouded her face. The paramedics screams were nothing in her ears, muffled by the loud banging inside her mind, with only one thing she was sure of.

She was to blame.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Bound by Love and War

Pairing: Steve Rogers X reader (already established) eventual Steve X reader X Bucky

Warnings: None! Just fluff🤭

Word count: 2.1k

Authors Note: I’m in love with these two, literally have me in a choke hold, enjoy!

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It hadn’t been some grand declaration or movie-style romance that brought you and Steve Rogers together. It started with quiet moments after missions, both of you sitting side by side in the Avengers compound, talking in hushed tones to unwind after the chaos. Steve had always been easy to talk to, even when his status as Captain America had once made him seem untouchable. But over time, beneath that shield and that larger-than-life presence, you saw the man: Steve, not the Captain.

You remembered the first time you’d actually let your guard down around him. It was after a particularly rough mission. Your telekinetic powers had saved lives, but it had drained you. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You’d found yourself in one of the compound’s common rooms, staring out the window at the skyline, feeling the weight of the world pressing in.

Steve had quietly joined you, his presence always calm and reassuring. He didn’t speak for a long time, but his closeness grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I know that look,” he said after a while, his voice gentle but sure. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

You sighed, brushing away the emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m not as strong as you, Steve. Not in the way that matters.”

He had turned to you, his eyes soft and warm. “Strength isn’t about being unbreakable. It’s about being willing to let people help when you need it.” Then he reached out, hesitating for just a second before resting his hand on yours. It was such a simple gesture, but in that moment, it felt like an anchor.

That night was the start of something neither of you had fully realized at the time. More and more, you found comfort in each other’s company. The late-night talks turned into early-morning runs together, which, admittedly, were more him dragging you along until you found your rhythm. And those quiet, shared moments began to feel like home.

It wasn’t until a mission where things went sideways—where you had been cornered and Steve had fought his way to you with a desperation you’d never seen in him—that everything became clear. His eyes, wild with fear and relief when he found you, said it all. As soon as the danger was over, he had pulled you into his arms and held you tight, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“I thought I lost you,” he had whispered, his voice breaking.

You had pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, heart pounding. “I’m here, Steve. I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, something shifted. He had kissed you, slow and tender, like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. And maybe, just maybe, you were.

That was almost a year ago. Since then, you and Steve had built something real, something steady in the middle of the chaos that was your lives. He was everything you could’ve hoped for: kind, supportive, strong in ways that went beyond the battlefield. He didn’t just see the hero in you; he saw the person.

But there had always been Bucky.

At first, it was easy to write off the connection you felt with him as something natural. Bucky was Steve’s best friend, practically family, and over time you’d grown close to him too. He had opened up to you in ways you didn’t expect, sharing pieces of his tortured past that he still struggled to reconcile with. You admired his strength, his resilience, and the way he always fought to be better, even when he didn’t think he deserved it.

It had started as friendship. But the longer you spent around Bucky, the harder it became to ignore how your heart sped up when he was near, how your thoughts drifted to him in ways they shouldn’t. You loved Steve, there was no question about that. But the truth was, part of you had begun to love Bucky too.

And that was where things had gotten complicated.

One night, after a quiet dinner together, you and Steve had been sitting on the couch, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. There was a weight between you—something unsaid—but you could feel it pressing in. Steve had been distant, thoughtful, and you wondered if maybe he sensed it too. The growing tension, the unspoken feelings.

“I’ve noticed something,” Steve said quietly, breaking the silence. He wasn’t looking at you, but at the floor, as if gathering his thoughts.

You felt your stomach twist, nerves creeping in. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, turning to face you. His expression was soft but serious. “I think… you have feelings for Bucky.”

Your heart dropped. This was it. The moment you had been dreading, where the truth you hadn’t wanted to admit came spilling out. You had no idea what to say, how to explain it without breaking his heart. “Steve, I—”

But before you could even finish, he held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I’ve seen it for a while now.”

You blinked, confused. “You’re not mad?”

Steve smiled softly, his hand reaching to cup your cheek. “No. How could I be? I love you. And I know you love me. But I also know that you care about Bucky. And… I care about him too.”

Your heart raced at his words. “You… you have feelings for him?”

He nodded slowly, looking as though he had come to terms with something that had been weighing on him for a long time. “I think I always have. I just didn’t realize it until recently. He means everything to me, and seeing the way he’s been with you… I guess it made me realize I’m not the only one.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. This wasn’t the conversation you had expected. And yet, here Steve was, not angry, not hurt, but understanding. Maybe even feeling the same way you did.

“So what do we do?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Steve’s thumb brushed against your skin gently. “What if we didn’t have to choose? What if we asked Bucky to be part of this? All three of us. Together.”

You stared at him, unsure if you had heard him right. Could something like that work? Could you love them both, and could Steve, and Bucky, love each other the same way? The idea felt almost impossible, but in a strange way, it made perfect sense.

“What if he says no?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Steve’s expression softened. “Then we’ll figure it out. But we won’t know unless we talk to him. And something tells me he might feel the same way.”

The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting soft golden hues across the landscape of the Avengers compound. You stood on the training field, focusing on lifting several objects in the air with nothing but your mind. Your telekinetic powers hummed in the air around you as you moved boulders, crates, and even a few steel beams without breaking a sweat.

A familiar voice brought you out of your concentration.

"Still showing off, huh?" Steve Rogers—Captain America himself—smiled as he approached. His blue eyes sparkled as he crossed his arms, admiring your abilities.

You smirked and set the objects down carefully. "Just keeping my skills sharp, Captain."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm. The two of you had been together for a while now, navigating the chaotic world of being superheroes and partners. It hadn’t been easy, but Steve’s steady presence and unwavering sense of duty made everything seem possible.

"I’ve been thinking," Steve started, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"That’s never good," you teased.

He chuckled softly but then grew serious, his gaze searching yours. "No, really. I’ve been thinking about us… and about Bucky."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Bucky Barnes—Steve’s best friend, the man who’d fought through hell and back, and someone you’d grown incredibly close to. Your feelings for Bucky had grown over time, and they had become confusing, tangled in your deep love for Steve.

"You have feelings for him," Steve stated, not as an accusation but as a fact. "And I know I do too."

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his honesty. You had thought about it before—those stolen glances between Steve and Bucky, the quiet moments they shared, the unspoken bond that felt stronger than just friendship.

"Well… we had that talk the other night but what are we going to do about it Stevie?," you asked him softly, trying to process what Steve was saying.

He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I wasn’t sure at first, but it’s been on my mind for a while now. I love you, more than anything, but I also care deeply about Bucky. And I can see how you look at him."

Your face flushed as you looked down, feeling slightly guilty for the affection you had for Bucky, even though your love for Steve had never wavered.

"I don’t want to hurt you," you whispered.

"You’re not," Steve reassured, taking your hand in his. "Why don’t we talk to him about it?"

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "What are you saying?"

Steve’s thumb traced circles on your hand, his touch soothing. "What if we invited Bucky to be part of this? The three of us, together. I mean it this time. All three of us together."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Could something like that work? You knew how much Steve meant to Bucky, and if Steve had feelings for Bucky too, maybe this wasn’t such an impossible idea. And your heart had been aching for Bucky for so long.

"What if he says no?" you asked quietly.

Steve smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made you feel like everything would be okay. "Like I told you yesterday, we’ll figure it out but, love we won’t know unless we ask him. And knowing Buck… I don’t think he’ll say no."

Later that day, you found Bucky in the gym, his metal arm gleaming under the overhead lights as he punched a heavy bag with ferocity. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and his jaw was set in concentration.

Steve and you approached cautiously, waiting for him to finish his set. Bucky noticed you both and gave a small smile, wiping his brow.

"Hey, what’s up?" he asked, catching his breath. "Something on your mind, Stevie?"

Steve exchanged a glance with you before stepping closer to Bucky. He was nervous—you could feel it—but he pressed on.

"Buck, we need to talk to you about something," Steve began, his voice calm but firm.

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he sensed the seriousness in Steve’s tone. "Okay… what’s going on?"

You swallowed, your pulse quickening as you spoke up. "It’s about us. Steve and me… we’ve been talking. About you."

Bucky’s confusion deepened. "Me?"

Steve took a deep breath and stepped closer to his friend. "We care about you, Buck. More than just friends or teammates. And we were wondering if… if you’d want to be part of our relationship."

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, his body going still. He looked between the two of you, clearly trying to process what had just been said. "Wait… what? You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Steve confirmed. "We love each other, but we also love you, Bucky. And we want to be with you."

Bucky stared at the two of you, his mouth slightly agape. He had been silently pining for you both for months now, his feelings buried deep beneath layers of guilt and denial. He never thought in a million years that this would be possible.

"I… I don’t know what to say," he finally muttered.

"You don’t have to say anything right now," you said gently, stepping closer to him. "We just wanted you to know how we feel. And we don’t expect you to decide anything immediately."

Bucky’s blue eyes searched yours, then Steve’s. His heart was racing. He had always felt like an outsider, someone burdened by his past, undeserving of happiness. But here you both were, offering him a place, a family, a chance at something real.

"I’ve… I’ve wanted this," Bucky confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn’t think it was possible."

Steve grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, it is."

For the first time in a long time, Bucky allowed himself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

He smiled softly, feeling the weight of his fears lifting. "Okay… let’s give this a shot."

And in that moment, standing together with the people who had always been by his side, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Brainrot Drabbles: Needy!M6

~ happy valentine's day :) ~

Needy!Julian who finally, finally has someone in his life who is able and willing to fill that gaping hole in his chest that needs to be loved. Asking you for the comfort of a hug, a kiss, a cuddle, a scrap of your attention, and surprised when you're more than happy to give it to him. Looking at you with wide open eyes filled with awe and asking in a hushed voice if he could have just a little bit more. A closer hug. A second kiss. Five more minutes of cuddles or conversation, simply because you're happy to give them to him and he needs that from you so desperately. Needy!Julian who can't stop himself from brokenly whispering "again, please -" between each gentle kiss you press to his face.

Needy!Asra who is terrified of needing anything at all, avoiding their desire to feel their love finally requited by teasing and flirting their way through the day. Halting with fear when he feels your bond with him resonating and sees the look on your face when you approach him. Freezing when you wrap your arms around them, their own expression working with all the intensity of finally being able to call you their home. Slowly exhaling as his head falls to your shoulder and he holds you close, close enough to lose himself in your heartbeat, close enough for all the walls between you to vanish. Needy!Asra who prolongs every intimate moment they have with you, finally learning the sweet fulfillment of receiving love after years of giving.

Needy!Nadia who finds it easier to hide her need underneath her boldness, pulling you into her lap as though to reassure you when it's really to feel the weight of you on her thighs. Suggesting you take a break, you look tired, when her heart is yearning for your grounding presence and the calm sound of your sleepy breathing. Struggling to hold up her cool facade when her need for you becomes too great, and she enters the rare state of mind when she wants to be held and cared for, for once. Needing first the outlet to pour all of her hidden, ferocious love onto you, and then the reassurance of lying cherished in your arms. Needy!Nadia who wants to bare herself to you, flaws and all, and feel you match her intensity.

Needy!Muriel who's so used to going without that he's forgotten how to ask for what he craves. From warmth, to shelter, to food, to safety, to connection - these are all things that you've heralded back into his life, and his slow acceptance of them does not keep up with his human need for them. Uneasy at the sudden bone-deep hunger for the next quiet moment he can share with you, the next tidbit of information he can learn about you, the next warm smile he can receive from you, the next safe touch that sweetly weakens him to you. Needy!Muriel whose sunrise happens when your eyes open, slowly sitting next to you with a heartbeat so strong you can see it, only meeting your eyes for a brief second of want.

Needy!Portia who keeps subconsciously expecting to be brushed off, being touchy and clingy and fussing over you only to stare at you wide eyed when you return the love. Expecting you to find something more interesting to look at any second, speaking a mile a minute while she still has your attention and faltering when you're still listening. Feeling the sweetest, heaviest ache in her chest when you don't break eye contact or change the conversation subject because where has this been all her life? Slowly crushing you closer in a disbelieving bear hug, telling herself over and over that she can take her time with you, you're staying with her. Needy!Portia who can't go more than five seconds without touching you, because you're there.

Needy!Lucio who never hesitates to take what he needs, and is surprised when you manage to meet them so easily. Snatching you around the waist when he's seized with unease, and then being caught off guard by just how quickly a simple hug from you makes him feel safe. Pulling you behind a tree to make out when he's starting to feel cold and alone and forgotten again, and stunned into silence when your first gentle peck is enough to warm him to his fingertips. Demanding that you pay attention to him for his next impressive trick, before realizing you were already watching him do nothing but walk. Needy!Lucio, tangling himself into your space only to watch you in wonder as he experiences satisfaction.

[merthosus]

Hiii! Meeting Again broke my heart 😭 Will you write a continuation? I would love to see their journey back to each other 😭💕 Thank you in advance!

Meeting again Part 2

Summary: After discovering Diego's bond with Lila, you feel hurt and distant. One night, Diego admits his fear of losing you, and you both begin to rebuild your relationship, though it's fragile. Over time, he makes an effort to reconnect, and in a quiet moment, he confesses his love. You assure him that despite the challenges, you'll face them together.

I am very happy about that request, because personally I don't like if a story doesn't have a happy ending. Thanks also to @shylahstarzz who also wanted a second part of meeting again!

"I know. I promise, I’ll do better. I just…need time”

After Diego and Lila leave, you stand there, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest like a stone. The world around you seems muted, the vibrant colors of the 60s dulled by the ache in your heart. Elliot’s place, usually a chaotic mess of conspiracy theories and strange gadgets, now feels unbearably quiet. You’re left alone with your thoughts, the reality of the situation pressing down on you.

You had spent so long searching for Diego, desperate to find him, to reunite with him. The image of how it would be when you finally found him had kept you going through all the frustrations and challenges. But this—seeing him with someone else, seeing the way he looked at her—was never part of the picture.

The days that follow are a blur. You try to focus on the mission, the bigger picture, but your mind keeps drifting back to Diego. You watch him from a distance, interacting with Lila, the two of them moving in sync like they’ve been doing this for years. It’s like they have their own rhythm, and you feel like an outsider, left to figure out where you fit into his life now.

Every time you try to talk to him, something seems to come up. Lila pulls him away, or the moment slips through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the lingering feeling that things are different now. And Diego—he’s trying, you can tell. He throws you small smiles, reaches out to you in those rare quiet moments, but it’s like there’s a wall between you that neither of you knows how to break down.

One night, you find yourself on the roof of Elliot’s place, staring out at the city skyline. The cool breeze does little to ease the turmoil inside you. You’ve never felt so lost, so uncertain about where you stand. The door behind you creaks open, and you turn to see Diego stepping out, his expression unreadable. He walks over to you, standing beside you in silence for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the distant lights. “But you haven’t,” you reply, and there’s no hiding the hurt in your voice. Diego sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know. It’s just…everything’s so messed up right now.”

Finally, you turn to face him, needing to see his eyes. “Messed up how, Diego? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve got it all figured out.” He flinches at your words, a pained look crossing his face. “That’s not fair,” he mutters, but you can hear the uncertainty in his tone. “Nothing about this is fair,” you shoot back, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I searched for you, Diego. I fought through hell to find you, and when I do, you’re…with her.”

He looks away, his jaw clenched, as if he’s struggling to find the right words. “Lila…she helped me. I was in a bad place, Y/N. She pulled me out of it.” His voice softens, and when he finally meets your gaze again, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about us. I haven’t.”

The confession hangs in the air, and you feel your heart skip a beat. You take a step closer, the tension between you palpable. “Then why does it feel like you have?” you whisper, the fear of his answer clawing at you. Diego reaches out, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brush against yours. “Because I’m scared,” he admits, his voice trembling. “I’m scared of losing you, of screwing this up even more. I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know how to fix us.”

The raw honesty in his words cuts through the walls you’ve built around your heart, and for the first time in days, you see the Diego you’ve always known—the man who fights for what he believes in, who would do anything for the people he loves. You take his hand, holding it tightly, grounding yourself in this moment. “We’ll figure it out,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But you have to be honest with me, Diego. We can’t keep going like this.”

He nods, squeezing your hand as if he’s afraid to let go. “I know. I promise, I’ll do better. I just…need time.” You can hear the sincerity in his voice, the determination to make things right. It’s enough to give you hope, even though the road ahead is still uncertain.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. You and Diego start to find your way back to each other, piece by piece. It’s not easy, and there are moments where the distance between you feels like it’s too much to overcome. But every time, Diego pulls you back, reminding you that he’s still here, that he’s still fighting for you.

Lila’s presence remains a constant reminder of the fragility of your relationship, but you try to push those thoughts aside, focusing on what’s in front of you. Diego is making an effort, showing you that he hasn’t forgotten about you, about what you’ve shared. And slowly, you start to believe him.

One night, after a particularly rough day, you find yourselves alone again, this time in your room. Diego’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. You sit beside him, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable. “I missed this,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “Missed what?” you ask softly. He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret. “Missed us. Being with you like this, just…being close.”

You reach out, resting your hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “We’re still here, Diego,” you remind him, your voice gentle. “We’re still us.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs, and you can hear the fear in his voice, the fear of everything slipping away. “You won’t,” you assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “We’ll get through this, Diego. Together.”

The kiss deepens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you’re home. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the distance that had grown between you starts to fade away. It’s not perfect, and there are still scars that need to heal, but in this moment, it’s enough.

Diego pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispers, the words heavy with emotion. “I’ve always loved you.” A tear slips down your cheek, but it’s not from sadness. It’s from the overwhelming relief of finally hearing those words, of knowing that despite everything, he’s still yours. “I love you too, Diego,” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped.”

As you hold each other, you realize that no matter what happens, no matter how difficult the journey ahead may be, you’ll face it together. The love you share is stronger than the obstacles in your path, and with that love, you know you can find your way back to each other.

Hope you like the outcome :) Would love more requests about Diego tbh