#to me and gave me all the space to do it in my time here

[yukioos]

hiii, can you wirte something about megumi and reader going out with nobara and itadori, and them start asking questions about their relationship and start teasing them (idk if that makes sense, english is not my first language, i love your writing!! 😅🫶)

you and megumi go on a double date with yuji and nobara

“come on, megumi! you and y/n should go on a double date with me and nobara! it’ll be so fun, we can just go out to lunch or something—“ yuji exclaimed, waving around his hands and balling up his fists with a proud smile.

megumi kept a blank expression, but was nearly glaring, “we’re not on a first name basis, itadori.” he crossed his arms, looking down at the shorter boy.

he, in return, laughed, “oh, come on megumi, you know we are! stop trying to change the subject!” his eyes widened and he smiled, waving to someone behind the darker-haired boy. he shouted, “hey, y/n, come here!”

megumi turned his head, and his expression softened once you walked over to him, and gave him a big fat kiss on his soft cheek. he interlocked your pinkies and gave you a small smile, softly trying to pull you back due to how close yuji’s face was to yours.

yuji was right up in your face, causing you to tilt your head back, as he had no concept of personal space. he asked, “do you wanna go with me and nobara on a double date?”

you glanced at megumi, hoping he would answer, but he didn’t. he stared right at you, depending on you to respond for the both of you. eventually, after some thinking, you answered, “sure, why not?”

yuji rejoiced, “yay, it’ll be so fun, trust me! does tomorrow at two in the afternoon work for you? ooh, we should go to that soba restaurant you both like! nobara really likes it too, she always orders this one meal—“

a hand collided with the back of the boy’s head, causing him to groan and whine. megumi stated, “you didn’t even let her respond.”

you chuckled, “two in the afternoon works for us both, and i’m sure the two of us are fine with soba.”

yuji rubbed the back of his head, and he winced, “right, great! i have to be somewhere though, so see you both later!” he quickly scattered off to god knows where, tripping on his way to his room, letting soft curses spill from his mouth.

you spoke before you thought, “can you help me pick out an outfit?” and glanced up at your boyfriend, who stood tall next to you.

he nodded, and the two of you headed towards your room. once you had found an outfit, and a day had passed, the two of you were sitting in a booth at a soba restaurant.

nobara placed her elbow on the table, and her chin on the palm of her hand. your and megumi’s knees touched, a slight reminder of his presence and love, although he didn’t show it in public often. yuji smiled and sat across from you, holding his cheeks in his hands.

the boy spoke, “you know, i was up all night thinking about how megumi must really love you.”

you tilted your head in confusion. where was this coming from?

yuji turned his head to nobara, who immediately turned hers to his, showing a grin. he stated, “you know, i was talking with y/n about all the plans and stuff, then he slapped me on the back of my head and was like, ‘you didn’t even let her respond.’”

the brunette tilted her head back, and asked, eyes focused on megumi across from her, “yeah, it seems like you show her subtle love and stuff. it’s clear the two of you are in deep, but do you not like physical touch or something? i see a lot of couples showing pda to each other but not you. why is that?”

“that’s none of your business.” megumi coldly replied, glaring at nobara and yuji.

“hey, hang on, i saw the two of you basically holding hands yesterday though!” the pink haired boy furrowed his eyebrows. he paused, “it was like the first time i saw the two of you put your hands on each other. do you not show pda often because you’re embarrassed? actually, i don’t believe that. you don’t show affection much in public because you want her all to yourself, right?” yuji ranted.

nobara bellowed, “oh, that’s definitely the reason! do you see how the two of them look at each other?”

“‘oh, y/n, i love you soooo much but i’m so nervous to show it to you!’” yuji teased, deepening his voice to act like megumi.

the dark haired boy frowned, trying to hide his face in his coat, “shut up,” he mumbled, “you guys are so embarrassing.”

his cheeks became warmer, and you rubbed his muscular arm, “oh, come on megs, that’s exactly how you sound!” you joined in on the teasing, causing him to glare at you too, but there was no hatred behind his eyes.

the couple across from you laughed, and as they held onto each other for dear life, you placed your hand on megumi’s cheek. you softly pushed your lips against his, running your hand through his soft hair. he let out a soft sigh and placed his hand on your waist, nearly smiling into the kiss.

you didn’t notice the way the two students’ laughter died out, and nor did megumi, but he sure noticed when he heard a click from a phone and a phone right in your faces.

the two of you pulled away from each other, and he reached for the phone, “delete it, itadori!”

he laughed, “absolutely not! the two of you look so cute here!” he turned around the camera, capturing a moment of intimacy between you and your lover. the two of you looked calm, and at peace, which caught megumi off guard.

he stood silent for a couple of seconds, eyes a bit wider and mouth slightly agape. he then averted his gaze at the table, then murmured, “whatever.”

you giggled, “send that photo to me, yuji.”

of course, megumi rolled his eyes, but a slight smile appeared on his face. he was glad to have such an amazing partner like you and great friends, although they annoyed him sometimes.

sorry this took a while to post, hope you like it! also thank you so much for 2000 followers and 3000 reblogs! i’m so glad to have so many people who love my work, and i hope they will continue to bring you joy

[thestarsaboveme]

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: angst with comfort, reader and lads men having a misunderstanding because reader is overthinking that they’re cheating on her with the mc since they always spend time with the mc and spending less time with the reader.

xavier ver. | zayne ver. | sylus ver. | caleb ver.

rafayel x reader | angst/comfort

You weren't proud of the thoughts you were having.

Not when Rafayel was as breathtaking as ever, standing in the distant glow of the garden lanterns, talking to her again. MC. His voice was low, that velvet-like voice that used to make your chest flutter. Now, it curled in your stomach with unease.

He was smiling. Not the lazy, teasing one he gave everyone. But something softer. Something rare. Something that, lately, he'd stopped giving you.

You watched from a distance, the bitter ache of overthinking clawing up your spine like ivy. They stood close, too close. Her hand brushed his sleeve. He didn't pull away.

You turned away before you could see more.

-

The silence in your room was suffocating when you returned. Rafayel hadn't noticed you watching. He rarely noticed, these days.

The messages had slowed. The way he'd linger after kissing your cheek had vanished. His excuses, though charming and gilded with half-truths, always ended with the same conclusion: ''I have things to handle with MC.''

You used to trust him implicitly. But love could be fragile. Especially when the person you loved was a master of masks.

You sat on the edge of the bed and opened your message thread with him. It felt empty despite all the hearts and winks that littered it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Can we talk tonight? Please. I need to clear my head.

You sent it. Watched the little ''read'' notification blink.

And waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

You stared at his message, bile rising in your throat.

Then finally.

Of course, cutie. I'll come after I finish with MC. It won't take long.

Of course it was MC again.

-

It was nearly midnight when Rafayel arrived.

''Hey,'' he said softly, stepping inside like the room wasn't filled with every unspoken word you'd been swallowing for days. ''You look like a storm's been living in you.''

You folded your arms, trying not to meet his eyes. ''Maybe because there has.'

He tilted his head, the teasing edge in his voice momentarily gone. ''Tell me:''

You looked at him then. Really looked. He was still beautiful in that untouchable, almost celestial way. Still the man who had stolen your heart with laughter and warmth and frustrating riddles.

And yet, right now, he felt like a stranger standing in the doorway of your grief.

''You've been spending all your time with her,'' you said. ''MC.''

Rafayel blinked. The silence dragged.

''I have responsibilities_''

''I know that,'' you snapped. ''What I don't know is wether those responsibilities come with…feelings.''

He stared, and for a terrifying second, he didn't say anything at all.

So you pushed, voice cracking. ''Are you cheating on me with her?''

The air in h´the room changed. It was like the very space between you shattered.

Rafayel didn't move. Didn't blink.

Then he laughed. Softly, bitterly.

''Oh, that's what you think of me?''

You flinched. ''I didn't want to. But you're always with her. You talk about her like she's this bright star you can't help but orbit. You disappear on me, lie about where you're going sometimes. And when you are here, it's like your heart isn't.''

His expression was unreadable. ''So you've decided the only explanation is betrayal?''

''I don't know what to think anymore!'' you cried. ''Because you won't let me in. You always hide behind jokes or silence or some metaphor I can't unravel…''

Something flickered behind his eyes. Hurt. Guilt. Anger.

''Do you have any idea how many times I've wanted to tell you the truth?'' he asked, stepping closer. ''But I don't, because every time I look at you, I see softness. Warmth. A place untouched by all the filth I deal with. And I tell myself, if I keep my shadows from you, maybe I can keep you clean.''

''That's not your choice,'' you whispered. ''I didn't fall in love with a perfect man. I fell in love with you. The complicated, broken, reckless version.''

Rafayel looked down at the floor, jaw clenched.

''You think I'm in love with her?'' he asked quietly. ''Is that really what your heart is telling you?''

You hesitated.

''I think…you might be starting to wonder if you chose wrong. That maybe she's more compatible. That she's stronger, easier to share the weight with. You don't have to protect her like you protect me.''

His voice dropped. ''Don't do that. Don't turn your fears into my truth.''

''Then tell me the truth!'' you yelled, fists clenched. ''Because if you keep shutting me out, you'll lose me anyway.''

He looked at you then. Really looked. And what you saw there stole the breath from your lungs.

''Do you think you're easy to love, cutie?'' he asked, voice low.

You froze. ''What?''

He stepped closer, his voice like thunder muffled behind silk.

''Because I do. And that terrifies me.''

Your heart skipped. ''You're…scared of loving me?''

''I've never had anything I was afraid to lose until you,'' he said. ''and I don't know how to be with someone who sees the real me and stays. So I pull away before you can leave me like everyone else.''

Your breath caught in your throat.

''All that time with MC?'' he continued. ''Yes, I've been with her. Missions. Strategy. Nightmares that won't let her sleep. I help her the way I can. But it's not love, not the way you think. She's a mirror to a life I survived.''

''And me?'' you asked.

''You're a window,'' he said. ''To a life I want. And that scares me more than anything.''

Tears blurred your vision.

''You idiot,'' you whispered. ''You beautiful, infuriating idiot.''

And then you were moving- Closing the space between you, fists against his chest as the tears finally came.

''You don't get to decide you're unlovable,'' you cried. ''You don't get to shut me out just because you're scared. I'm scared too.''

His arms came around you like gravity. ''I know. I'm sorry.''

''I thought I was losing you.''

''You never were,'' he whispered. ''But I'll admit I've been making it feel that way.''

You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of rain and regret.

''Please don't do that again,'' you said.

He held you tighter. ''I won't. No more masks. No more half-truths.''

You both stood there for a long time, wrapped in silence, until he finally pulled back enough to cup your face.

''You are not second place,'' he said. ''You never have been.''

You nodded, and something in you, something tight and aching, finally began to ease.

''Then let's try again,'' you said. ''But this time…together.''

Rafayel smiled, tired but genuine.

''Together,'' he echoed.

And for the first time in weeks, you believed him.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

The Manuscript // Luke Hughes

wc: 1.1k

cw: angst, breakup, sad shit man, there’s no happy ending in this.

There was a time where all you could think about was the joy of stepping through the door. The excitement about seeing him. The wonder of what the rest of your day was gonna be like with him.

There was never a time you worried, a time where you ever felt second in his life. You were, and he always said, “will be my number one. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

All that feels so distant. All the love, the spontaneity of him, the kisses in the doorway unafraid if the neighbors saw, the slow dancing in the kitchen.

The late nights he swore he wasn’t tired just so he could have a few more minutes with you. That all seemed so foreign.

Your bed wasn’t a comfort anymore, his pillow wasn’t your safe space while he was gone. He wasn’t yours anymore. No matter how many half hearted “I love you.” he gave as he walked out the door, you knew he wasn’t there. That wasn’t your Luke anymore.

There was a time where you’d wake up to flowers and breakfast in bed. There was a time he’d pick your outfit and give you a time frame to be ready for a date. There weren't any dates anymore. There wasn’t eating dinner together anymore. There was nothing. All you two shared was that stupid apartment that hurt every time you walked into it.

Tears filled your eyes as you packed your last box. Reminders of the words he mumbled as he walked out the door.

“This is my job! You know that! You act like you haven't been around my family and hockey for the last 5 years. This isn't any different. Now I have to go.” All you could do was nod. A silent understanding. He didn't have to understand yet, but you did. It was an understanding that no matter how difficult it was, Luke would always choose the sport over you. And who are you to get in the way of what makes him happiest?

The box that held all the signs of your relationship. All the pictures, all the gifts, the jersey’s, the jewelry. Your neck felt naked, that “L” pendant leaving a burning pain in its wake. You couldn't bother taping it, just left it sitting on the dining table.

One final breath and you were out the door. Dropping your keys with the neighbor and a promise he’ll give them to Luke tomorrow when he returns from the last road trip of the season.

He had wondered why you never responded to his text. You always responded, you always were so excited to see him home. Truthfully? He was excited to be with you again. He missed you so badly. His mind hasn't been right, and he knows he’s been a shitty partner. He’s been eating himself alive with it. Since Jack had his injury he had to pull more weight for the team. He had just hoped you'd understand. You'd be in the kitchen with dinner and he could just talk.

When Luke had finally stepped in front of his door, his shoulder eased. He was met with a dark apartment. An apartment that suddenly didn't feel like your shared home.

As soon as the lights flicked on and he didn't see your shoes or your bag by the front door - his chest felt heavy. His mind runs a mile a minute, the panic setting in the moment he sees the opened box. The folded piece of paper with his name on it, and that necklace he gave you in high school with it is what broke him.

With shaking hands and hot tears slowly falling from his eyes, he grabbed the paper.

Hi Lukey,

I know this is kind of cowardly and for that I apologize, but I didn't know how else to do this. You’ve probably got an idea at this point what’s happening. After you read this, please make sure you listen to the doorbell footage from Tuesday at 5:40pm.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep breaking my own heart hoping you're going to magically be different. And yeah, that’s shitty of me. I tried talking but I was only met with a stupid empty promise of dinner together tomorrow and those dinners never came. I know it’s been hard for you too. I know you've been so busy with the team and I'll never fault you for that, you're doing your job. You're doing what I know you love, what I've watched you do for so many years. You know the difference though.

I need you to think about how long it’s been since you ate a meal with me? When was the last time you kissed me, or even hugged me? Months, its been months Luke. Months I went feeling like the butt of a really bad joke. Months I felt like I wasn't important, wanted, or loved. I hope you understand my hurt, I hope you can understand why I did this. Why I left. Why I couldn't stay in a home, in a partnership that did not value the other anymore, in a partnership where only one side's feelings mattered.

If there’s anything I forgot for some reason, I went home. You can have Jack or Quinn drop them off when you’re all at the lake house in a few weeks.

I'm sorry Luke. Please take care of yourself, and don't forget, the dryer shrinks your uniform. Has to be on delicates. Good luck, Lukey.

No. Fuck, this cant be happening he thought to himself. This has to be some sick joke. His feet moved faster than his brain did. He was running down the hall, fuck the elevator. He can't wait, he needs to get to the airport.

He wasn't paying any attention, too focused on booking the flight on his phone before he bumped into someone. Not just someone, Jack.

“Hey, hey. Luke! What's your problem, why are you crying?” Jack asked.

“Fuck dude, shes gone. I need to go, I can't let her just leave Jack!”

Shaking his head, he ignored his brother's questions. He had one plan, and it was to get to you.

He opened his phone and went straight to the footage you referenced in your letter.

You were stood in the hallway, tears staining your cheeks. God he hated this, he hated knowing how badly he had hurt you. He never wanted to be the reason for your tears and now he was the only reason behind those. You took a deep breath and looked up to the doorbell. I loved you Luke, so much. I’m so sorry. I lived for the hope of it all for so long now, I hope you understand.

He did understand, he understood why. He didn't blame you for it either. He had lost the one person who loved him, all of him. Flaws and all. He lost her.

[heliosunny]

Omg omg omg you right for Gallagher! Im so happy to see some content for him.

Could you humor me with how you think the relationship or dynamic of a dog hybrid!Gallagher and a owner!darling would go? Like Gallagher is an older "stray" that darling takes in to help foster until the local shelter can find him a forever home.

First of all, I'm sorry this took so long! It's been sitting in my drafts forever, but I finally got some inspiration to finish it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy~

Yandere!Dog Hybrid!Gallagher x Owner!Reader

Gallagher wasn’t used to kindness. He’d spent most of his life fending for himself, fighting for scraps and sleeping in alleyways with one eye open. He didn’t trust humans. Not after the ones who’d kicked him, the ones who’d tried to chain him, or the ones who’d looked at his fangs and claws and called him a monster.

He’d been nursing fresh wounds after a brutal fight with another stray when you passed by.

He’d expected you to hurry away like the rest. Instead, you crouched down, just far enough to be safe, and placed a wrapped meal beside him.

"You look like you’ve had a rough day."

It was the best damn thing he’d ever eaten.

He should’ve let it end there.

But the scent of you lingered on the wrappers, and something primal in his chest ached.

Tracking you wasn’t hard. His nose led him through the city, past dim street lights and wary pedestrians, until he found your apartment. A small, cozy place with potted plants by the window. He watched from the shadows as you moved inside, humming to yourself.

-----

You didn’t expect to see him again.

But the next morning, there he was, looming in your doorway, battered and bleeding.

"You!... You’re hurt!" You rushed forward without thinking.

Gallagher let you touch him. His tail gave a slow wag.

You weren’t sure what to do with him.

Gallagher was huge, taller than you when he stood at his full height, his broad frame taking up far too much space in your small living room. His ears twitched at every sound, his tail flicking lazily as he watched you rummage through the first-aid kit.

You reached for the worn tag hanging from his neck, but he jerked back with a low growl, baring just the slightest hint of fang.

"Okay, okay...no touching the tag," you murmured, pulling your hand away. "But… Gallagher, right? That’s what it says."

His ears perked at his name, and his tail gave a single, heavy thump against the floor.

"Do you have somewhere to go? An owner? A… pack?"

Silence.

His eyes just stared, unblinking, as if daring you to suggest the one thing he really didn’t want to hear.

"I can’t just keep you here," you said, more to yourself than to him. "Maybe a shelter could—"

A deep, warning growl rumbled in his chest. His claws flexed against the floor, leaving faint scratches in the wood.

"Alright, no shelter." you amended quickly.

You chewed your lip, brainstorming alternatives, maybe a rescue organization, a hybrid-friendly vet, anything, but Gallagher had other plans.

His nose nudged your wrist. Then your elbow. Then your shoulder.

"Gallagher—"

You turned to face him, and he pounced, not aggressively, crowding you against the couch, his massive body caging you in. His breath was warm against your neck, his tail wagging deliberately.

Mine.

Later that night, you came home with a new collar, dark leather, sturdy, with a fresh tag engraved with his name.

You literally had no other choices.

Gallagher’s eyes gleamed when he saw it.

And when you finally reached for the old, rusted tag around his neck?

This time, he let you.

-----

Gallagher was, surprisingly, the most well-trained stray you’d ever met.

He carried your groceries without being asked. He nudged your forgotten coffee toward you before it went cold. He even learned how to operate the blender after watching you make smoothies once.

You were starting to suspect he hadn’t always been a stray.

"Gallagher," you said one evening, eyeing him as he effortlessly lifted a stack of books you’d been struggling with. "Were you, like… someone’s service hybrid or something?"

His ears twitched. He set the books down neatly, then knocked over a framed photo of you and a coworker, pretending it was an accident.

"Rude."

He gave you an innocent blink, tail wagging.

But the real mystery was his obsession with scent.

You came home from a friend’s birthday party, hugged Gallagher hello like usual, and he immediately sneezed, recoiling like you’d just doused yourself in acid.

"What? Do I smell weird?" You lifted your arm to sniff your sleeve.

Gallagher’s nose wrinkled. His tail went rigid. His entire body language screamed:

"WHO TOUCHED YOU."

Before you could react, he bolted to the laundry basket, dug out your favorite hoodie, and rubbed his face all over it like a cat in catnip. Then he dragged it to his bed and curled up on top of it, glaring at you like you were the weird one.

"Okay…?"

It got worse.

When a coworker gave you a pat on the shoulder? Gallagher "accidentally" bumped into you with his entire body, smearing his scent all over you like a living, breathing essential oil diffuser.

You dared to hug your best friend Hannah? Gallagher materialized behind you like a horror movie villain, resting his chin on your head and exhaling loudly, as if to say, "There. Now you smell like ME instead."

You caught him spraying your perfume on himself once.

"GALLAGHER!"

He froze, ears flattening guiltily, then slowly, spritzed himself one more time before putting it down.

The final straw was when you came home from a date.

You hadn’t even kissed the guy, but Gallagher took one whiff of you and lost his damn mind.

He dragged every blanket in the house into a nest on the couch.

He licked your hand like he was trying to disinfect it.

You stared at him.

He stared back, panting proudly.

Mission accomplished.

-----

Hannah wasn’t wrong. Gallagher was obsessed with you.

But in his mind, it wasn’t obsession. It was duty.

You were his human.

And yet, despite his best efforts (licking your coffee cups, stealing your hoodies, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as glanced at you), you still treated him like… well, like a pet.

A very spoiled, very possessive pet, but still just a pet.

And that wasn’t enough.

"You have to see how weird this is," Hannah insisted, gesturing at Gallagher, who was currently draped over your lap like a living, breathing weighted blanket. "He’s not just clingy, he’s territorial. Like, aggressively territorial."

Gallagher’s ear twitched.

"He’s fine," you said, scratching behind his ears. "Just a little protective."

"A little?!" Hannah threw her hands up. "He growled at Mark when he tried to ask you out for drinks!"

Hannah leaned in, lowering her voice like Gallagher couldn’t hear her. "Look, I get that he’s helpful around the house, but this isn’t normal. You should really consider—"

That’s when Gallagher made his move.

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, rubbing his scent glands against your skin. Then he flicked his gaze toward Hannah, his eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.

See? Y/n lets me do this.

Hannah’s eye twitched. "Did he just—?"

You sighed. "Yeah... He does that."

Gallagher knew he’d won that battle.

But the war wasn’t over.

Because as long as you saw him as just a 'pet', you’d never truly be his.

So he needed to change that.

That night started like any other, until you came home wasted.

Your cheeks were flushed, your steps wobbly, and your words slurred in a way that made his ears twitch with amusement. You stumbled through the door, giggling at nothing, and immediately face-planted onto the couch.

"Waaaaater," you groaned, flopping an arm dramatically over your eyes. "Gallagherrrr, wateeer."

He should’ve just brought you a glass.

But where was the fun in that?

Instead of water, Gallagher handed you a full water bottle—unopened.

You blinked at it, slow and confused, before fumbling with the cap. "Mmnngh… open it."

Gallagher smirked. Make me.

You scowled. Then, with all the drunken authority of a tiny, furious monarch, you grabbed his collar and yanked him down to your level.

"I said," you hissed, "OPEN. IT."

This was new.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he rumbled, "Kiss first."

You stared at him.

Then, without hesitation, you grabbed his face, shoved your lips against his in a messy, aggressive mwah!, and immediately pulled back, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

"There. Happy? Now open it."

Gallagher’s brain short-circuited.

Holy shit.

Somehow, it got worse. (Or better. Depending on who you asked.)

When he finally opened the bottle, you snatched it from him, took a sip, then poured the rest into his mouth like he was a disobedient houseplant.

When he tried to nuzzle into your neck, you shoved him onto the couch and climbed on top of him, pinning him down with your knees on either side of his hips.

"You’re annoying!" you slurred, poking his chest. "If you don’t behave, I’m taking your stupid collar away."

Gallagher’s tail thumped against the cushions.

Oh no. Please don’t.

You smacked his shoulder for good measure. "And no more being a brat! Got it?!"

Gallagher’s ears flattened.

Got it.

You passed out shortly after, collapsing face-first onto his chest.

Gallagher lay there for a solid minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what the hell just happened.

Then, carefully, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed.

As he tucked you in, he couldn’t resist one last act of rebellion, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Mine." he murmured.

Then he paused.

...Maybe he’d pretend to misbehave tomorrow.

Just to see if you’d punish him again.

[snail-day]

Based off of this ask. Angst -> Fluff

Fighting with you sucks.

Satoru hates fighting. Hates how sharp his own voice sounds. Hates how your eyes narrow when you’re angry, especially when he knows he’s the one who made you look at him like that. When you both get too prideful. The both of you begin to throw words like fire.

And yeah, maybe it doesn’t happen often. Maybe you two don’t really blow up at each other unless something’s been simmering for a while. Something unsaid. Something he was too stubborn - or scared - to bring up. But when it finally bubbles over, it’s like throwing gasoline on the fire.

You say something. He says something back. Then suddenly, it’s not even about the original issue anymore, it’s everything all at once. All the little moments that built up to this one. He watches it happen like slow-motion glass shattering, and Satoru still can't stop himself from throwing the next stone.

Then silence.

You pull away. And Satoru lets you, even if it makes his chest ache. Even if it makes his hands shake a little while he’s pretending to scroll on his phone or clean something up. He tells himself he’s giving you space. That you need time. That he needs time.

But god, the second you talk again, really talk to him, it’s like the air comes back into his lungs. He's like a puppy who's released from time out.

He doesn’t even know when it happens, only that he’s behind you now, arms wrapping around your waist with the kind of desperation he tries to mask with theatrics. Kissing your shoulder, then your neck, then wherever he can reach. Smothering. Voice muffled against your skin as he sing-songs, “My loveeeeee, my loverrrrr, my love my love my love...”

He squeezes you tighter when you don’t push him away. Teases your little huffs and sighs and small little toru stop noises. He doesn't stop because you gave him the okay the moment you uttered a single word.

“Do you love me?” he murmurs, quieter this time, slight teasing. Slight insecurity lingering. “How much?”

You roll your eyes. Say something like “Not after that performance,” but he hears the warmth behind it. Still, he needs more.

“Only a little?” he asks again, nosing at your jaw, lips brushing your cheek. “I just... I need to know you’re still here.”

He’s not trying to forget the fight. He’s not even trying to fix it, really. He just needs to feel that you’re not going anywhere. That after everything, you’re still his. That he hasn’t loved too hard and burned it all down.

[hsangel64]

moving in

pairings: neighbor!ellie x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re moving into a new apartment and have no one to help you…your neighbor is kinda cute though

warnings: use of y/n, mild cussing, small bit of smut!

a/n: taking a short break from angst i need fluff and i’ve had this idea in my head for awhile now! enjoy!

you sighed as you parked your car in your new parking space, this was going to be a long day. you had a u-haul parked in front of your building ready to be unpacked. you really didn’t know how you were going to do this, you had all your furniture and you absolutely could not move a whole couch by yourself. you had asked anyone and everyone from friends to your family to help but everyone was busy and you didn’t want to wait a day longer to move in. you being stubborn decided to do it by yourself, of course. you took a deep breath and made your way over to your apartment, thankfully it was on the bottom floor so you didn’t have to be lifting things up the stairs. as you made your way over to check out the inside before starting your process you heard loud music and video game gunshots coming from the inside of your new neighbors apartment. an idea came to mind.

today was ellie’s day off so she spent it with doordash, video games and sat in boxers all day. she was currently playing some stupid zombie game with loud deftones in the background. she was having the time of her life that is until she got a knock on the door.

“ugh better not be jesse.” she groaned out loud and threw the controller on the couch next to her running over to the door opening it to a really pretty girl. ‘shit im only in my boxers and i’ve got stains on my shirt’ she thought and gasped a little.

“oh!” you gasped seeing a really cute skinny girl and not some big man.

“hi?” she said confused.

“um sorry i thought a man lived here-“

“what gave you that impression?” her eyebrows furrowed.

“oh well just because of the loud music and gunshots….just kinda figured-“

“what a woman can’t have loud music and be playing video games?”

“oh no no i-i didn’t mean it like that i’m sorry, ill just-ill go now sorry to interrupt you-“ you felt embarrassed apologizing profusely before walking back over to your apartment.

“wait- wait what did you need a man for?” you stopped in your tracks and walked back over.

“oh! um i have no one to help me move in, so i figured to ask because i thought you were…a man.”

“you think i couldn’t help?”

“shit no thats not what i meant im sorry again-“

“im just fucking with you, dont worry.” she laughed and you sighed out of relief.

“well does the offer still stand? because i can get some…” gesturing to her pjs “clothes on and come out and help.” you jumped up excitedly thanking her over and over again.

“thank you thank you!! i could really use the help, just knock on my door when you’re ready!” you walked back over to your apartment and went in to wait for the girl. you face palmed realizing you didn’t even introduce yourself. what an embarrassment.

just a few minutes later you heard a knock on your door and knew it was her. your breath almost taken away at her, she was in a white wife pleaser and some light wash jeans with a carabiner hooked onto her jean buckle. you weren’t one to stereotype but-

“you ready?” you nodded grabbing the keys for the u-haul and you both made your way out to get started.

“oh! my name is y/n by the way.” you stopped and held your hand out.

“im ellie.” you shook hands and smiled at each other before continuing on.

———————————————————————————

it had been a couple of hours and you both had gotten everything moved in. you just had to return the u-haul, ugh.

“hey ellie do you want to come with me to drop off the u-haul? so i have a ride home…”

“yeah of course your car or mine?” you threw your keys over to her and both made your ways out. you guys had gotten pretty comfortable with each other playing 20 questions as you were moving boxes around. you had found out that she worked at the guitar center on the corner of your guys’ street, she liked video games, space and dinosaurs. she lives alone and only has two really good friends. she plays guitar and goes to the gym in her free time. you already felt a small crush forming, damn you and your feelings.

you returned the u-haul and proposed the idea of getting dinner.

“let me get you some dinner for helping me, you really saved my ass today.”

“free dinner sounds good to me.” you both laughed and agreed on some pizza.

you made it back to your place and placed the pizza down on the counter in the kitchen.

“i’ve got some plates packed away let me get them!.” you had all your furniture set up for the most part you just had to build some shelves and unpack everything. ellie was stood awkwardly by the counter waiting for you to unpack the plates.

“ellie sit please, you did most of the work today.” she fumbled around and sat down on the couch, making you giggle seeing her flustered. you grabbed the plates and put some slices on the plates taking it over to ellie.

“alright here ya go! sorry i don’t get wi-fi until tomorrow so no tv.”

“whatever will i do to live.” you both laughed at ellie’s joke and ate in silence for a little bit. before ellie spoke up.

“did you uh did you need help with anything else after this?”

“well now that you ask i’m not good at building things…if you could help me me build some shelves.”

“yeah of course! its what i’m here for.” you smiled at her, you were so far in deep already.

———————————————————————————

you both had finished eating and started building the shelf that would go in your room.

“did you have to get this from ikea?” you both were so confused with the instructions.

“hey i didn’t buy it my mom did so get mad at her not me.” you threw your hands up in defense.

“can you look up a video tutorial then?” you grabbed your phone and searched for a video, finding one and crouching down behind ellie putting your arm around her and showing the video. ellie’s face immediately felt hot and turned red, she could feel goosebumps form on her body from your presence behind her. she couldn’t even watch the video properly, the feeling of your breasts pressed up against her back made her stomach clench. focus ellie don’t be weird.

you handed her the phone and moved over to sit next to her, placing your head on her shoulder feeling the exhaustion hit your body like a truck. when you were tired you didn’t care what you did. if ellie’s heart wasn’t pounding it was now thats for sure. ellie’s breathing lulling you closer to sleep, you closed your eyes and steadied your breath. ellie looked over at you moving slightly and seeing your eyes closed, your soft snores coming out of your mouth confirming you were asleep. she slowly moved her arm from under you and put it around your back rubbing it to slightly wake you up.

“hey lets get you to bed.” she whispered to you and you woke up rubbing your eyes still almost half asleep.

“oh shit sorry.” you lifted your head off of her shoulder and got up, ellie stood up with you and led you to your bedroom.

“it’s okay you had a long day today.” you guys had set up your bed already thankfully so you plopped right down.

“okay we can continue this tomorrow, ill let you get some much needed rest. goodnight.” ellie was about to walk out when she heard your voice call for her again stopping in her tracks and poking her head back through the door.

“yeah?”

“goodnight ellie thank you for helping today. i really appreciated it today, same time tomorrow?” ellie let out a soft laugh.

“yes same time tomorrow.” you said a small goodbye and she was out the door, taking your keys so she could lock your door for you. ellie smiled as she left, you were going to be the death of her.

———————————————————————————

the next morning ellie got up bright and early and went out to grab some breakfast for you two, she didn’t know what you liked so she got you a simple bagel sandwich and a coffee figuring that today you’d need it. she still had your keys but didn’t want to just randomly walk into your apartment and be weird considering you both met each other just yesterday. so she knocked and after a little you came to the door in a blanket and your hair all ruffled.

“oh hey good morning.” you smiled at the girl and rubbed your eyes. you had raspy morning voice and ellie loved the way it sounded.

“oh im sorry did i wake you?”

“no no, i’ve been up just on my phone.” you laughed and realized you were still standing there. “sorry please come in.” you gestured for her to come in and she accepted walking past you putting down the food bag and coffees on the counter.

“i have your keys because you got tired last night and i figured i would lock your door for you but i didn’t want to be weird and just come in unannounced…i got us breakfast and you coffee though- i hope that isn’t too weird.” you smiled and walked over to her and grabbed the coffee off the counter sipping it and immediately feeling awake.

“what did i do to deserve this from you stranger?” you quirked your eyebrow and she laughed at you.

“i only do this for pretty girls.”

“oh so i’m not the only one you’ve done this for?”

“you’re the first pretty girl actually.”

“and you’ll do this for more and not just keep this special treatment for me?” you got closer to her as you sipped your coffee, the heat radiating from her body causing butterflies in your stomach. she was leaned up on the counter smirking at you and your remarks.

“we’ll see about that.”

“hmm okay-“ you both were face to face staring at each other, your eyes traveling from her eyes down to her lips and up to her eyes again. you both moved closer until you took a sip of your coffee and walked away. ellie quietly groaned and you giggled to yourself. you grabbed the bag of food and grabbed a sandwich out, ellie let you know they were both the same so you could choose whichever. you both ate while making small conversation about what needs to be done for the day.

you both finished and you let ellie know you were just going to get dressed and do your morning routine really quick before you guys started. ellie sat on the couch on her phone as she waited for you to be done, just from the bit of info about you she had found your instagram. you were stunning there was no doubt about it, she looked through all your photos seeing some stuff of you on vacation and with family. she then saw a few pictures of you with this abby girl, you looked very close, ellie didn’t want to assume but her heart dropped thinking of the possibility that she was your girlfriend. for her own sake she closed her phone and just got started on the shelf that was left on the floor overnight.

you had finished getting ready and walked back into the living room seeing ellie already started on the shelf. ellie didnt notice you until you were standing behind the couch, lifting her head up from the video her eyes widening seeing you in some spandex shorts and a very open v neck tank top. your hair was up in a high pony tail and you looked refreshed and so beautiful. its crazy how quick someone conjured up a crush for someone but it was happening in real time. ellie couldn’t help it.

“i see you’ve gotten started?”

“oh yeah figured since we have so much to do today.” you nodded and sat on the floor beside her starting to help grab the things she needed.

———————————————————————————

you guys had finished the shelf and whilst she got started on another piece of furniture, you started to fill the shelf with your books.

“you’ve got a shit ton of books.”

“i can’t help it i love reading.” you shrugged grabbing more books out of the box under you. you were particular about your organizing you wanted everything to be in a certain order but the way you got there was creating a mess. you would think there was an easier way to do this and there was…this just worked better. so you currently had a pile of books around you….this was going to take a while.

“what on earth are you doing?” you whipped your head around to see ellie looking around you confused.

“oh…this is how i do stuff…”

“you’re a very interesting person.” you gave her a big toothy grin and turned back around doing the task at hand.

after a bit ellie had finished your vanity and you had just finished organizing your books.

“ta-da!!” you presented your bookshelf, it wasn’t done because you liked adding little pieces of decor like plants and such but your apartment was coming along.

“it looks nice.” you furrowed your brows and looked at her in disbelief.

“just nice?!”

“no no its great!”

“thats what i thought-“ you crossed your arms and turned to see she had finished your vanity, it was a beautiful dark wood color with a nice big mirror on it and lots of storage. gasping at how pretty it was you went and gave her a huge hug thanking her profusely. she made a small noise and let out a puff of air feeling the weight of your body on her now, her eyes wide she put one arm around you trying her best not to be so awkward.

“thank you so much its literally perfect els!” realizing you said a nickname you covered your mouth. “oh gosh im sorry- can i call you that? i feel like we’ve gone through enough in the past day to be on nickname basis-“

“yeah sure no worries.” she laughed at your excitement. that little voice in the back of her head telling her not to get too close, remembering those pictures of you with that girl. she felt that pit in her stomach and shook the feeling away and changing the subject.

“hey why don’t we go and grab some lunch its about that time. i know a good place close by.”

“ooo good idea, let me grab my bag.” you ran into your room to grab your bag. ellie smiled as you ran into the other room, her smile slowly faded. ‘get your shit together ellie.’

you made it to the place, it was a quick service sandwich shop. you were sat with your food and talking about anything an everything.

“so lets get to know each other more.” you nodded agreeing.

“okay what would you like to know!”

“i didn’t get to ask you but where are you moving from?”

“i’m coming from seattle, i went to college over there did undergrad, now i’m back home here in jackson to do graduate school!”

“that’s awesome, what are you majoring in?”

“psychology! not very interesting.”

“no no that sounds awesome, are you going to the college up the road?” you nodded finishing what you had in your mouth.

“yeah, ill start this coming fall. what about you any college?”

“i took a gap year, didn’t think i needed college but my old man convinced me- i’m majoring in art and music, pulling that double major.”

“thats so cool what do you play?”

“i mainly do guitar and bass but i occasionally do drums.”

“you know what they say about guitar players…” you can’t believe you just said that. ellie choked on her sandwich a big hearing what you were referring to, were you flirting?

“i’m- i’m sorry i don’t know why i said that…”

“don’t be it was funny….and its true-“ your eyes wide at her boldness. you were about to respond but you heard your ringtone, pulling your phone out of your pocket to see abby calling you.

“hey sorry let me take this really quick.” ellie nodded as you got up to walk outside, she saw who was calling you.

“hey babes. what’s up?” babes?? you definitely had a girlfriend, shit. ellie’s head was racing and she didn’t even know why, you guys had known each other for not even 48 hours why was she so disappointed. ellie did the best she could do and mask her feelings, pull back and don’t get involved in this girls life so much.

that’s exactly what she did, once you came back she wasn’t as talkative. she was quiet and let you talk mostly, she stopped the flirty comments and stayed to herself. you didn’t notice it at first until you said something flirty and she didn’t have a remark to it. the ride back home was silent with the soft music of the radio playing, you didn’t know if you did something or not so you left her be and didn’t push. as you got back home you both walked to your apartment, but ellie was behind you she was unlocking her door.

“hey you aren’t coming back over?”

“oh um i got called into work, sorry i didn’t tell you.” she refused eye contact and unlocked her door not letting you say another word. your face dropped at her quickness to get into her apartment. you unlocked your door and plopped down on the couch, you stared at the wall for a second reflecting on the outing thinking about what could’ve happened. you really do not know what could’ve cause her to suddenly stop talking and just run away like that. your eyes wandered the room seeing ellie’s hoodie on your couch, you grabbed it and smelled the piney scent radiating off of it. you felt silly you had barely met her yesterday and you felt like you were mourning a dead family member. you spent 20 minutes debating on texting her, you grabbed your phone and texted her.

(don’t mind the time not adding up lol)

damn these thin walls. ellie groaned as she read your texts, of course she wanted to respond she didn’t know how. you threw your phone on the other side of the couch groaning loudly, almost irritated that she wasn’t responding. you didnt want to rush her to respond or come over so you left it alone, getting up and going to shower to clear your thoughts and then continue to unpack your things.

———————————————————————————

it had been a week, a full week of ellie ignoring you. every time you caught her by the mail box she found a way to run away or when you would text her asking if you guys could hang out she always said she picked up a shift or was busy. you gave her the time, now you were really irritated. you just wanted to know what was going on, so you decided to confront her in a place where she couldn’t leave. you got up first thing in the morning and went to the cafe on the corner and got some breakfast for you two, you knew she didn’t have work because it was sunday and her work was closed on sundays. you went over to her apartment and knocked….and knocked….and knocked. you weren’t leaving until she answered.

ellie groaned sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes wondering who’s at her door at 9am. the knocking kept coming and she sighed loudly yelling “i’m coming i’m coming!” she figured it was dina or jesse so she threw on some sweats and made her way to the door. she didn’t care to look through the peep whole and regretted that she didn’t. her eyes widened see you at her door, she didn’t know what else to do so she shut the door but you were onto her and stuck your foot in the door.

“no no you will not shut me out anymore ellie.” she groaned and opened the door again, you squished past her and into the apartment placing the food and coffee on the kitchen island.

“we are going to talk whether you like it or not. i know we barely know each other but i thought we were getting somewhere.” ellie stared down at her feet not wanting to look at you, she didn’t respond, ignoring you this past week felt stupid to her but she didn’t want to become a home wrecker.

“ellie please.” she looked up and finally made eye contact with you, you looked desperate and she felt bad for not saying anything.

“what do you mean by getting somewhere with me?’”

“i like you ellie, like a lot just the time we spent together made me see how fucking cool you are and how i wanted to maybe….try it out, the flirting and shit i thought we were getting somewhere.” you said with a long frown on your face. ellie took a deep breath before spitting it all out at once.

“i wanted to give you space, at first i didn’t know if you even liked girls, and then i saw your books and vinyls you had and put two and two together- i had found your instagram and then i saw you with that girl and then saw you had gotten the call from the same girl and it just confirmed you two were together because of the nickname-“

“wait wait what?” you were so confused.

“yeah i figured since you had a girlfriend i would back off-“ you stopped her with your howling laughter, full bend down tears falling down your face type of laughter. ellie’s face contorted into confusion, why on earth would you be laughing.

“why are you laughing-“ you caught your breath before responding.

“abby isn’t my girlfriend, i just call my friends little nicknames. shes my best friend, plus she has a girlfriend already. i am laughing because you’re so cute for respecting my privacy if she was my girlfriend. why didn’t you just come and talk to me?” all those worries fell right off of ellie’s shoulders, she felt a huge sigh come out of her mouth. she felt silly.

“i don’t know, i just thought it would’ve been easier like this than to confront you about it. i thought i was going to be a home wrecker!” you walked up to ellie and put your hands on her shoulders rubbing your thumb up and down for comfort.

“oh ellie, i would’ve told you that i was taken beforehand if that was the case, im not that much of an asshole.”

“thats such a relief oh my god.” ellie felt like she could breathe again, she recalled what you had said and spoke again. “you like me?”

“yes of course i do els, we’ve barely talked and i haven’t even known you very long but i felt like we had a real connection. i didn’t expect you to just stop talking to me-“ she felt really bad, she should’ve just talked to you.

“i know i’m really sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking. i just really liked you and i just wasn’t thinking, which of course i always do i just-“ you didn’t know what came over you, possibly how hot she looked right now or the fact that you just really wanted to kiss her- you don’t know, but you did. cutting her off with your lips on hers, her hands traveled up to the sides of your face pulling you in closer. you both moved slow not wanting to move away from each other, so engulfed in each others bodies. you were the first to pull away, you giggled at the lipstick stain on her lips.

“wow, that was wow.”

“sorry was it too much? too soon? i just thought it was a good moment, i don’t know-“

“no no dont worry, i wanted it too.” you both smiled still holding each other.

“can i kiss you again?” ellie asked and you nodded your head enthusiastically. she pulled you in and kissed you again, a little more hungry this time for more. she walked you over to the couch and lightly laid you down on the couch, you pulled your legs from under her and placed them around her waist pulling her closer to you. she pulled away to kiss down your neck causing you to gasp feeling her bite your neck a little.

knock knock, you both sit up quickly hearing the knocks on the door. ellie groaned and got up just telling you to just wait there, she walked to the door and opened it. a girl barging in starting to ramble on about work, placing her stuff down on the counter. you were sat up on the couch lipstick smeared and hair messed up, she hadn’t seen you yet.

“hey ellie, sorry to barge in i hope you weren’t busy but work today was just a bitch, my manager doesn’t know how to handle shit so i have to do it. why did they even hire you as the manager if you’re just gonna go and hide anytime something happens like come on really i-“ she turned towards the couch and saw you. you smiled and waved at her not knowing what else to do. she turned to ellie and back to you and then back to ellie and covered her eyes yelling.

“im so sorry, i should’ve texted you ellie. i didnt realize i- im sorry-“ she ran to ellie’s bathroom yelling. “im using the bathroom and when i come back you better have some clothes one and ready to tell me who your new girlfriend is.” she shut the bathroom door and you both stared at each other in horror.

“well that’s dina, my best friend.” she shrugged her shoulders and went to go put some clothes on. this has been an interesting week.

———————————————————————————

a/n: i hope you enjoy this!! i’ll make this a series if you guys want that! requests are open and perm taglist is also open!

[jinjoohaa]

TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Overstimulation , Corruption kink, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Degrading talk, Jealousy sex, First time sex, Size kink, Fingering, Grinding, Dry humping , Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Biting / Marking, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on, Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

prev chapter

Chapter 15 - Final chapter

A few weeks passed. Quietly.

Too quietly.

Things with Toji had gotten strangely better now. No anger. No outbursts. No dragging you by the wrist or shutting you up mid-sentence. Just this unnerving calm.

Toji still came around—same old bottle in hand, same lazy smirk when your dad greeted him at the door. Usual stuff.

It was finally getting normal. Peace. Comfortable.

And that's when it happened.

---

The air felt a little too still when you opened the front door.

The hallway smelled faintly of bleach, like someone had scrubbed too hard in a hurry.

You hadn’t expected your dad to call you home with such urgency.

“Just come after class,” he’d said, his tone weirdly serious, almost guilty.

You thought maybe he’d found out something. Maybe he’d seen something between you and Toji he wasn’t supposed to.

Your heart had been racing all the way home—but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was actually waiting.

Toji was already there.

Of course he is.

Sitting on the couch. Casual. At ease. One leg over the other, a drink in his hand, eyes locked onto you the moment you stepped in.

And that damn smirk.

“You’re here,” your dad said, standing up from the dining table where a few papers were spread out.

“Come sit. We need to talk.”

Your gaze flicked between the two men. “Why is he here?” you asked, voice sharper than intended. “This is family stuff, isn’t it?”

Toji chuckled low. “I’m practically family, aren’t I?”

Your dad nodded, completely missing the undertone in Toji’s voice.

“He’s been helping me with a lot lately. I thought it’s best he’s here too.” He patted the seat next to him.

You sat—reluctantly. Toji didn’t take his eyes off you. Not for a second.

There was something territorial in the way he looked at you, like he was already claiming what wasn’t officially his yet.

Your dad inhaled, like he was bracing himself.

“I got transferred,” he said. “To another city. Bigger role. I start next month.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I tried to see if they could make any adjustments, but...” he sighed. “It’s too good of an opportunity to turn down.”

A million thoughts rushed through your head. “Okay but—what about me? I can’t leave. My college is here—”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why we thought you’d stay.”

Your heart stopped. “We?”

Toji’s voice slid in, calm and slow. “Your dad and I had a long talk. Makes sense for you to stay here. I’ve got space. And you’re comfortable with me, right?”

You looked at your dad like he’d lost his mind. “But dad—!?"

Your dad gave a tired smile. “It’s only for a year or two. Toji’s house is close to your college, you won’t have to move or adjust. He’ll take care of you.”

Your stomach turned. “I—I can take care of myself. We shouldn't bother him like this," you said to your dad.

“You’re still young, kiddo. You need someone looking out for you. I can’t just leave you alone in an apartment.” His tone turned gentle. “I trust Toji. More than anyone.”

“Dad—” you tried, a crack in your voice.

Toji leaned back, watching the whole thing like a show. “I don’t mind,” he said casually, swirling the ice in his glass. “But only if she wants to, of course.”

The mockery in his tone wasn’t missed. You flinched, chest tightening.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you whispered. “I’ll figure something else out—rent a place, maybe stay at a dorm—”

“Dorms are full this year,” your dad cut in. “And you know how much hassle it is to rent, especially for students. I don’t want you living with strangers.”

You tried to speak again, but Toji's voice cut through, smooth and sure.

“She’ll be safe with me. I’ll treat her like my own.”

The way he said it—low, almost amused.

Your dad nodded. “It’s settled then. I already talked to your aunt, and she agrees. No one’s better suited for this.”

You stared down at your lap, throat dry, mind racing.

Toji raised his glass slightly in your direction. “Looking forward to having you, kid.”

That smirk again.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t.

There's no room for argument.

Part of you was kinda okay with it, since you won't have to live in fear of dad finding out anymore.

But still, something was bothering you. An uneasiness.

Like the ground beneath your feet had tilted ever so slightly and no one else noticed.

---

You didn’t sleep that night. You kept hearing the echo of Toji’s words over and over in your head.

“She’ll be safe with me.”

Safe.

What a joke.

The sheets felt too warm. Your skin too tight. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind outside made you flinch.

You caught him alone the next day, in the garage while he helped your dad move some boxes. You didn’t even know why you were trying—you just had to say something. Anything.

“Toji… I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to you slowly, eyes narrowing as he wiped his hands off with a rag. “Hm?”

You hesitated. Swallowed the lump in your throat. “I-I don’t think this is… fair. You… you can’t just—just treat me like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, voice calm but laced with warning.

“Like something that already gave in to me more than once? Don’t act innocent now. We've already come into an agreement. I take care of you. You stay mine. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

Your lips parted, no words coming out.

He was right. In that quiet, twisted way of his—he always was.

“You having second thoughts now?” He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall with that same terrifying gentleness.

You gasped softly and shook your head.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Go on. Say you want to back out. That you want me to stop.”

You couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.

Toji smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

He walked away like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just confirmed that you were already his.

---

Later that week, your dad finalized the move. Boxes left the house one by one, furniture packed, and your own bags slowly transferred to Toji’s place—room by room. There was no ceremony. Just resignation.

When your dad hugged you goodbye, he smiled with so much trust in his eyes. “Call me if anything, alright? And listen to Toji. He’s doing me a huge favor.”

You only nodded.

And then he was gone.

Toji was waiting at his place when you arrived with the last of your things.

Leaning against the doorframe with that same bottle of whiskey in his hand, he watched you carry your bag in like a pet who finally gave up running.

“Welcome home, princess,” he drawled. “Did a little something for you.”

You didn’t want to see it—but you had to. So you walked to the room he had set aside for you.

Soft lighting. Fresh sheets. The room smelled like cedarwood and something deeper, warmer. His scent. The bed was neatly made—maybe too neatly.

Your eyes fell on the nightstand. A single collar sat on top of it. Jet black. Plain. No tags.

You froze.

"Could try it when we. . . . y'know. . ." he grins.

Toji’s hand brushed over your lower back, slow and heavy.

“I like order,” he said, right near your ear. “I like my things where they belong. Now you’re under my roof.”

You turned to look at him, trembling slightly.

He was still calm—too calm. "No lies. No running. Yeah?"

“Toji—” you whispered.

He tilted your chin up with his fingers. "Hmm? We're gonna be happy, don't we?"

Your heart pounded. You didn’t nod. You didn’t shake your head.

You didn’t resist either.

Toji stepped back with a satisfied smirk. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

And as he left, you stood there in the center of his room—your room now—realizing you weren’t scared of what he might do anymore.

You were scared of what you might let him do.

---

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

By the time summer faded into fall, you and Toji had settled into a rhythm—your own quiet, twisted domestic life under one roof.

At first, everything was a little hard. You walked on eggshells, unsure when he might snap, scared of what he’d do next.

But something changed.

Maybe it was the satisfaction of finally having you under his control. Or maybe Toji had simply grown comfortable knowing he didn’t need to force anything anymore.

You were his now. Completely.

Your days started the same: breakfast in the quiet kitchen, sometimes made by him, sometimes by you—depending on how tired or sore you were from the night before.

You'd attend your classes during the day, headphones in, face down, living your college life like any other girl.

And when the clock hit the late afternoon, you'd always get that text from him: “Come home soon.”

Evenings were quiet. Toji worked out, showered, occasionally read the newspaper or watched TV. You’d cook if he asked, sometimes he helped you prep. It almost felt… normal.

He’d take you out sometimes—grocery shopping, walks through quiet neighborhoods, or lazy ramen dinners on Sunday nights.

To the world, he was your guardian, an uncle, a family friend doing a favor for your dad and you were the quiet college girl staying with a guardian.

Innocent.

Proper.

But behind closed doors, it was different.

Every glance, every touch, every shared silence said more than words ever could. The possessiveness hadn’t gone away; it had just taken a softer form. He didn’t need to threaten anymore. You were already too deep, too worn in, too molded by his hands.

Toji never apologized for how it began. He never needed to. But he grew gentler. He stopped taking what he wanted so harshly. He started asking— though you both knew you’d never say no.

Some nights, he’d hold you tighter, covered you with soft tender kisses. Whisper things like, “Two years, huh? Guess I’ve got you all to myself until then,” as if daring fate to take you away.

You never responded. Just let his warmth surround you as you drifted off on the bed he “specially" made for you.

He gave you freedom in public. You could go out, shop with your friends, hangouts, be normal. But you always returned home.

Always opened your bedroom door to find him waiting, or feel his hand slip over your waist while you were brushing your teeth.

Because no matter what anyone saw…

You were his.

Entirely. Secretly. Quietly.

You shared his bed now, not just his body. He touched you like you were precious—but always his. He never let you forget that. Every kiss reminded you. Every touch said it.

"Two years will fly by," he murmured one night, arm slung lazily around your waist as you lay tucked against him.

You nodded. You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because you weren’t going anywhere.

And he wasn’t letting you.

And you finally started finding the comfort and safety in his arms again— the same which drew you into him in the beginning.

And you had two more years to go, and honestly, it's gonna be a mixed bag—some days you'd feel like you were getting the hang of this, and others you'd still be figuring out what you signed up for.

But one thing stayed the same: he always called you home.

And you always went.

The End.

.

[pankowcrumbs]

Love and a Leash X Charles Leclerc (Requested)

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

Request: Charles Leclerc x Reader Reader meets him through another driver, you can decide who. And he is too shy to ask her out, so he takes Leo for help. 

If I had known that saying yes to Lando Norris’s last-minute dinner invite would lead to me meeting one of the most quietly charming men I’d ever laid eyes on and his equally charming dog I might’ve paid more attention to my hair.

The restaurant was a small, cosy place tucked away in the quieter end of Monaco. Nothing flashy, just good food and even better views. Lando was already seated at a table near the back when I arrived, all grins and chaotic energy as usual.

“You’re late,” he teased, standing up to give me a hug.

“You said seven-thirty. It’s seven twenty-nine,” I replied, raising a brow. “I’m early by my standards.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he said, then gestured to the man beside him. “Y/N, this is Charles. Charles, Y/N.”

And there he was.

Charles Leclerc.

I’d seen him on TV, obviously. Watched enough Formula 1 to know who he was, and heard Lando talk about him enough times to feel like I already knew him. But in person? It was different. He had this quiet presence about him smiling gently as he stood to shake my hand, eyes soft, like he wasn’t quite sure how to exist in loud spaces.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I said, trying not to sound too breathless.

He gave me a small nod and an even smaller smile. “You too.”

We sat, ordered food, and Lando did most of the talking thankfully. Charles spoke, but only in small doses, always polite, always measured. He laughed at my jokes, looked away whenever our eyes met for too long, and fiddled with the edge of his napkin when he thought I wasn’t watching.

He was shy. Completely, utterly, adorably shy.

After dinner, Lando waved goodbye and jumped into his car, mumbling something about a sim race. Charles linger awkwardly beside me on the pavement.

“I, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I live close. Would you like me to walk you back?”

My heart did a little somersault. “I’d like that.”

We talked a little more during the walk. He asked about my job, I asked about the dog I’d seen on his Instagram a cream, long-haired dachshund named Leo. The way his face lit up made my chest squeeze.

“He’s like my shadow,” Charles said, smiling. “A little shadow with tiny legs.”

By the time we reached my door, I was halfway smitten. And yet, when he said goodnight, it was just that. No phone number. No “let’s meet up again.” Just a soft smile and a hand shoved nervously in his pocket as he walked away.

I thought that might’ve been it.

But it wasn’t.

Three days later, I was at the café near my flat, sitting outside with an iced coffee and my laptop open, pretending to be productive. I saw him before he saw me Charles, walking slowly up the street, his shoulders tense, head down… and at the end of a lead, Leo trotting proudly like he owned the city.

When Charles spotted me, he froze.

I tried not to laugh at how visibly flustered he looked, waving awkwardly with one hand while the other tightened on Leo’s lead.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I called as he approached.

He stopped by the table, cheeks already pink. “Hi. I didn’t know you… lived around here.”

“Mmm. It’s my local,” I said, smiling. “What about you?”

“Oh, I was just taking Leo out. He’s very persuasive.”

As if on cue, Leo gave a little bark and tried to climb up my leg. I laughed, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer,” I cooed.

Charles rubbed the back of his neck. “He, ah, really likes people.”

I tilted my head. “You sure it’s not just me?”

Charles blinked, clearly not prepared for a bold flirt. “I...well maybe.”

Leo whined again and Charles glanced at the empty chair across from me. “Do you mind if we sit?”

I gestured to the seat. “Please do.”

He tied Leo’s lead to the chair leg and sat down slowly, eyes flickering to me and then away. Up close in the daylight, I could see the little crinkle beside his left eye when he smiled. He was prettier than a man had any right to be, and it was kind of unfair.

We chatted about nothing and everything. Leo settled under the table, nose on Charles’s foot. Eventually, I closed my laptop, content to just sip coffee and listen to Charles tell a surprisingly dramatic story about a time Leo got stuck under his sofa.

“I had to bribe him with cheese,” he finished, grinning sheepishly. “Very expensive cheese.”

I giggled. “Worth it though. He’s adorable.”

Charles glanced down. “He’s a good wingman.”

I raised a brow. “Wingman?”

His ears turned red. “I mean he’s good at… breaking the ice. Like now.”

I bit back a smile. “Ah. So you brought him here on purpose?”

He tried to look casual. Failed miserably. “I thought it might be nice to see you again.”

“Without Lando playing third wheel this time?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Oui.”

“Well, in that case,” I said, leaning forward slightly, “he’s doing a brilliant job.”

Charles looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I, um… was wondering if you’d maybe… like to go for a proper walk sometime? With me. And Leo.”

I grinned. “Are you asking me out, Charles?”

His shoulders dropped just slightly. “Yes.”

“Then yes,” I said warmly. “I’d love to.”

Leo barked again, tail wagging furiously.

“Told you he was a good wingman,” Charles said, smiling wide now.

Our first “walk” was less about walking and more about sitting on a park bench eating gelato while Leo rolled around in the grass like a gremlin. The second time, Charles brought a picnic. The third time, I brought dog treats. By the fifth, I knew how he liked his coffee, how many siblings he had, and what song made him tear up when he thought no one was watching.

It was slow, gentle, and golden around the edges.

Charles wasn’t like anyone I’d dated before. He wasn’t showy. He didn’t sweep me off my feet with big gestures or fancy lines. Instead, he remembered little things how I liked the crust cut off my sandwiches, the exact shade of nail polish I always bought, the kind of rain I loved (the soft, misty kind that clung to your coat). And he told me things, too, in his own quiet way. About his dad. His fears. How sometimes, being “Charles Leclerc” was a little too much.

He didn’t rush. Neither did I. It was a dance of soft steps and glances that lingered too long. And somewhere between Leo’s daily walks and quiet evenings on my sofa, I fell for him.

Hard.

One evening, after another lazy Sunday with takeaway boxes and Leo curled up between us, I looked over at Charles—barefoot, hair a mess, wearing one of my jumpers by mistake—and thought, This is it. This is mine.

“I was terrified to ask you out,” he admitted suddenly, eyes still on the telly.

“You don’t say,” I teased.

He laughed, cheeks pink. “I didn’t think you’d say yes. You were so… confident. Clever. Beautiful.”

“And you were shy. Endearing. Completely incapable of eye contact.”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Mon dieu.”

“But you brought Leo,” I continued. “And he sealed the deal.”

Charles peeked at me through his fingers. “I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

“He’s got good taste.”

Charles reached out, tugged me gently into his side. “So do I.”

And just like that, his lips brushed mine soft and sure, like a promise. I smiled against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his stolen jumper.

When we pulled back, Leo climbed into my lap with a huff, pressing his head to my chest like finally.

I laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re the real star of the show.”

Charles kissed my cheek, eyes full of something I was pretty sure was love.

“He’s a very good wingman,” he said again.

“He’s the best,” I agreed, stroking Leo’s fur.

[sxvual]

act three • the depression

a/n: I would repeat myself, but all these chapters are heavy, not gonna lie and this propably one of the most severe tear jerkers.

cw: angst, child loss, severe depression, anxiety

word count: 6.1k

————————————————————————————

The building is nearly empty, bathed in the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant whirr of a floor buffer somewhere down the hall. Roman sits behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar undone, reviewing a contract he’s read three times without absorbing a single line.

It’s the laughter that distracts him.

Not loud—just soft, humming, and so out of place in his meticulously ordered world. He stands, moves toward the open office area, and there she is. Sunny. Sitting cross-legged on the floor by the copier, talking to herself while trying to fix a paper jam with a pencil, of all things.

“I swear this machine has it out for me,” she mutters, then giggles like she told herself a secret joke.

She doesn’t see him watching.

Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. Her oversized cardigan slipping off one shoulder. She hums as she works, some old country tune mixed with a nursery rhyme. And despite the exhaustion etched into her features—he sees it, though she hides it well—she’s still smiling. Still glowing.

Like she belongs in the sun. Not here, in the cold glass and chrome of his world.

He clears his throat. She jumps, then beams when she sees him.

“Oh! Mr. Reigns. I was just—um—the printer ate the quarterly reports. But I think I’m winning.”

“You’re here late,” he says, folding his arms.

She shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave a mess for the morning.”

There it is again—that sincerity. That relentless optimism. He wants to find it annoying. He wants to call it naïve.

But he can’t.

Because in a world of fake smiles and curated agendas, she’s real. Messy, inexperienced, stubborn—but real. And he hadn’t realized how much he missed real until she showed up in his office with the wrong coffee order and a smile that didn’t ask for anything in return.

Roman exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll have IT look at the printer tomorrow,” he mutters, then adds without thinking, “You don’t have to fix everything yourself.”

She grins, that sunshine grin. “Too late. Fixing things is kind of my thing.”

And that’s when he realizes—she’s not just in his space anymore.

She’s in his head.

And worse—somewhere deep beneath all his armor and edges—he doesn’t mind it.

The bar was dimly lit, low jazz humming in the background, glasses clinking in the distance. Roman sat in the far corner booth, back to the wall like always, one hand wrapped around a sweating beer bottle he hadn’t lifted in several minutes. His cufflinks were undone, the sharp lines of his tailored suit softened and wrinkled, like he’d been tugging at the collar for hours. His hair was still pulled back, but his whole presence radiated a kind of disheveled storm—contained, but volatile.

Jimmy and Jey flanked him—blood and bone and history. The three of them had known every version of each other, from boys scraping knees on pavement to men carrying titles, burdens, grief.

Tonight, the grief was thick.

Jey was the one talking, lighthearted, trying. A story about some fan interaction gone sideways, the kind of thing that would’ve normally had Roman smirking, head shaking. But Roman’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring through his beer like it held the answer to a question he wasn’t brave enough to ask.

Jey caught on and fell quiet.

Jimmy shifted. His jaw ticked. He'd been holding it back all night, but he couldn’t anymore.

“We been quiet too long, Uce,” Jimmy muttered, voice low, rough like gravel and whiskey. “And it ain’t doing nobody any good.”

Roman didn’t look at him, just gave a tired blink.

Jimmy leaned in. “You keep showin’ up to life like this. Drownin’. And I know why. Hell—we know why. But—man—what happens if you don’t come back up?”

Jey stayed still, watching Roman. Neither of them pushed hard. They never did. Not with him.

“You know what it did to us too, right?” Jimmy said after a long pause. “Losing her. That was our niece. Our family. We were there when she was born. I held her before she could even open her eyes.”

Roman’s jaw tightened.

Jimmy’s voice cracked, just once. “You think we’re not gutted too?”

Roman finally moved—his head tilted back against the booth, eyes closing. The beer bottle slipped from his grip and landed on the table with a quiet clink.

"But she was my fucking daughter, mine—" his words were sharp and cutting like a knife into both the men at the table, they painfully winced as he continued. "You have your kids, both of you—Jimmy you have your babygirl. They're here, mines isn't and I will never know why!"

Neither man took it personally but the beat of silence after was still tense all the same. Roman's nostrils flared with unkept anger, and Jimmy's eyes burned with unshed tears, he was the mos emotional of the two twins about the situation. Jey adored Yara, but in the few months she was here—her and Jimmy really clicked.

“I don’t know how to breathe without her,” Roman said. It was barely a whisper, as if saying it too loud might break him. “I don’t know how to look at Suniva without feeling like I failed them both.”

“You didn’t fail her,” Jey said firmly. “You lost her. And none of us were ready. No one ever is, and I know it's not the same but when Kiara had a miscarriage them years ago man I was tore up, but you gotta keep living.”

Jimmy leaned in again, more serious now. “You gotta talk to someone, Uce. Hell, both of you do. Sunny too. Ain’t no shame in that.”

Roman scoffed faintly. “You think I haven’t tried? I can’t even get her to look me in the eye anymore, let alone sit in a room and talk about it.”

Jimmy reached for his glass, took a breath. “Then start with you. Not for her. Not even for Yara. For you. Because if you don’t… I don’t know how much more of this you can carry. And I don’t know if I can watch you collapse under it.”

The table fell quiet. The weight of it all hung in the air.

Roman blinked down at the table. His knuckles were still scabbed from the bag he’d beat senseless in the gym days ago. His whole body ached with exhaustion, but it was the kind that sleep didn’t touch.

“You think it’ll even help?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “But doing nothing sure as hell isn’t.”

Roman looked up. His eyes met his cousin’s. Honest. Raw. Fractured.

"I'll try, but I don't know with her.."

Roman didn't speak much after that.

Roman didn’t respond right away.

He just sat there, staring into the neck of the beer bottle like it might whisper back the answers he’d been chasing for four hollow months. Jimmy and Jey fell silent beside him, giving him space the way only people who’d loved you long enough knew how to do.

His chest rose slowly, then fell.

Therapy. He never thought he’d need that word in his vocabulary. He’d spent a lifetime being the strong one. The provider. The protector. The man who walked into any room with purpose, who kept his circle small and his emotions tighter. But now?

Now all he had were questions.

Could talking really help? Could it rewind the clock to when Sunny used to curl up next to him and trace the tattoos on his chest while whispering their baby’s name with reverence?

Could it bring her back to him?

Roman dragged a hand down his face, the scrape of his beard grounding him. He still remembered the sound of her laugh in the mornings, breathless and unguarded, usually at something dumb he’d said. God, he missed that sound. He missed her. Not just her body beside him, or the memory of the warmth they used to share, but her, the way she used to see him—like he was something good. Something steady. Safe.

But now, she looked at him like he was a stranger.

No—worse. Like he was a ghost. A haunting reminder of the moment their world ended.

He couldn’t blame her. Not really. He’d pulled away too. Closed off. Shut down. Spent nights on the couch pretending it was to give her space, when really it was because lying next to her, so close and so impossibly far, hurt too much.

Still, even through the silence, the fights that weren’t really fights, the small kindnesses neither of them acknowledged—he loved her. And God help him, he wanted her back. Not just physically, not just in their house, but in that way where she smiled up at him and touched his face like he held her whole heart.

He wanted to wake up and not feel like they were pretending.

Wanted to hear her say good morning and I miss you too.

He missed the girl who used to steal the covers and complain that his big body took up the whole bed. He missed the woman who made him believe he could be something other than just a fighter—that he could be soft, and joyful, and worthy of the kind of love that lit you up from the inside.

They’d had that once.

Now… he wasn’t sure if it was dead, buried beside the little girl they never got to watch grow up—or just lost beneath all the rubble.

Maybe therapy wouldn’t fix it. Maybe nothing could.

But he knew this: if he didn’t try, he’d lose her completely. And for everything he had already lost—that was something he couldn’t survive.

He looked up, finally. His voice was rough when he spoke.

“I don’t even know if she’ll come with me.”

Jimmy tilted his head. “Then start alone. Show her it matters to you. Maybe… maybe she’ll follow.”

Roman nodded slowly, dragging in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe she will.”

The front door clicked shut behind him with a softness that didn’t match the war raging in his chest.

Roman stood in the entryway for a long moment, keys in hand, unsure if he was supposed to move or breathe or crumble right there on the marble floor. The house was still. Dim. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. He knew the way by heart.

His shoes echoed quietly across the floor as he walked past the photos they hadn’t taken down yet—one of Sunny mid-laugh, her head thrown back with joy, the curve of her belly cradled by his hand. Another, just above the entry to the living room, of tiny Yara wrapped in a blush-pink blanket, her fist curled against his chest while he looked down at her like she was the most delicate, sacred thing in the world.

Because she was.

He paused there, under that picture. Swallowed hard.

Some nights he still reached for her bottle on instinct. Other nights he thought he heard her crying, only to be met with silence that hit like a brick to the chest.

Roman sighed and kept walking.

His tie hung loose around his neck, blazer slung over one shoulder. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, like he couldn’t stand the constraint of being pulled together anymore. Not here. Not in this house where nothing made sense.

The couch greeted him like an old habit. He sank into it, not bothering to turn on the TV. Just sat in the quiet, the dark, nursing a dull ache in his chest that never fully went away. He looked up at the ceiling. Then closed his eyes.

Therapy.

The word echoed again.

He tried to picture saying it to Sunny. Sitting her down. Reaching across the table and telling her he didn’t want to lose what was left of them. That he couldn’t lose her too.

Would she even listen? Or would she look at him the way she had so many times lately—with glassy eyes, guarded shoulders, like she didn’t know who he was anymore?

He didn’t blame her for the distance. He felt it too. Like their grief had split them down the middle and they were both too hurt to cross the divide. But maybe therapy could be the bridge. Or at least the start of one.

His head dropped back against the cushions. He stared at the ceiling like it had answers.

“I miss you, Sunshine,” he whispered.

He wasn’t even sure if he was saying it out loud or just thinking it again and again and again. I miss you. I miss us. I miss the life we were supposed to have.

His phone buzzed on the armrest beside him.

A message from Jimmy.

You don’t gotta do it all at once. Just start somewhere. Don’t wait too long, Uce.

Roman stared at the message.

Then, slowly, he typed a reply.

Looking into it tomorrow.

It was small. A whisper of effort in the avalanche of their grief. But it was something.

And maybe something was better than nothing.

The stillness of the living room had begun to settle over Roman like a blanket—thin, but heavy. He sat, unmoving, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the house, the distant tick of the clock echoing time neither of them seemed to be living in.

Then—

A harsh, retching sound shattered the quiet.

Roman shot up.

The sudden violence of it—raw, guttural—seized his gut with dread. His long legs carried him down the hallway with quick, sure strides, panic building under his skin. He barely needed to think. His body moved before his mind could process.

The bathroom door was ajar, light spilling through the crack like an unwanted truth.

He pushed it open and froze in the doorway.

Suniva was hunched over the toilet, her thin frame trembling, the stark white of her nightshirt clinging to her spine. Her arms braced against the seat as another wave of sickness overtook her. Her hair, once so full and glowing, hung limply, sticking to her damp cheek. The sound of her gagging, followed by a choked sob, cracked something in him.

Roman stood paralyzed for just a second. One heartbeat. Two.

Then he moved.

“Sunny—”

He was on his knees beside her before she could respond, gently gathering her hair away from her face with one hand and rubbing small circles into her back with the other.

“I got you,” he murmured, voice thick. “I got you, baby.”

She didn’t speak—couldn’t. Her body was still wracked with dry heaves that seemed more like grief expelling itself than anything physical. Each wrench of her torso sent a tremor through her, and all Roman could do was hold her as she came apart.

His palm splayed across her back, fingers moving in slow, careful motions. His other hand cradled the back of her head when she collapsed sideways into his chest, too weak to hold herself up any longer.

She sobbed into his shirt—raw, broken cries that tore through the silence like glass underfoot.

Roman bowed his head over hers, his nose brushing the top of her hair, holding her like she might vanish if he let go.

“I miss her too,” he whispered, barely audible. His voice cracked. “God, I miss her too.”

For a long while, they didn’t move. Just stayed there—on the cold tile floor, wrapped around each other, grief bleeding out between them. Roman could feel the sting of his own tears falling, trailing down his jaw as her breath hiccuped against his chest.

She was so small in his arms now. So fragile. And for the first time in weeks, she let herself fall into him.

He didn’t try to fix it. Couldn’t. He just stayed.

Held her like he used to. Like he still wanted to. And somehow, in the sorrow, something quiet passed between them. Not healing. Not yet.

The silence that followed her breakdown was fragile, hanging like mist in the air. Roman didn’t move right away. He just sat there, holding her, listening to her breath gradually steady against his chest. When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to tuck a damp curl behind her ear, his eyes scanning her pale, drawn face.

“You should lie down,” he said gently, barely more than a murmur.

He expected resistance. A protest. A shake of her head. But instead, Suniva nodded—small, almost imperceptible. Wordless. And then, slowly, she pushed against the floor like she meant to stand.

Roman was faster.

“No, no—don't,” he said, scooping her up into his arms before she could fully rise.

She made a feeble sound of protest, a weak flutter of her hand against his chest as if to argue the gesture. But the strength wasn’t there. Emotionally. Physically. And she knew Roman—knew once he’d made up his mind, there was no point in fighting him. Not when he carried her like she weighed nothing, like she was still his entire world.

Her head found his chest, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as her body softened in his hold. She let him carry her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the soft light of the living room.

He didn’t say anything as he lowered her gently onto the couch, his movements tender and deliberate. He adjusted the cushions behind her and reached for the soft fur throw she loved, draping it over her body and tucking it around her with the care of someone handling something precious.

Suniva blinked up at him—eyes rimmed red, lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something. But she didn’t.

Roman brushed her forehead with the back of his fingers before retreating to the kitchen.

He knew exactly what he was looking for.

The tea bar sat in the far corner, pristine and untouched for weeks. When they'd first moved in, he’d spent weeks perfecting it—organizing the shelves by leaf, blend, fruit, and floral notes. Every container labeled in her flowing script. Glass jars lined up like sacred little apothecaries.

It had been his surprise housewarming gift to her.

She’d squealed when she saw it. Lit up the room with her excitement, pulling him down into a kiss and gushing about the care and detail he’d put into it. They'd spent that entire first night trying different blends, rating them with laughter and sleepy smiles. Roman had hated every one. But he’d drank them anyway, for her.

He reached for the fennel tea she always used when she had nausea. Measured it carefully. The scent of anise rising to meet him as he scooped the leaves into the sleek black tea press she'd picked out on their first trip to that overpriced kitchen boutique she loved.

As the water heated, he glanced back toward the living room.

She hadn’t moved.

Just lay there, eyes closed, wrapped in the blanket like a fragile thing thawing from frost.

His throat tightened.

Roman turned back to the kettle as it clicked off, pouring with precision and care. His movements slow. Intentional. There was no grand fix. No right words.

But this? This, he could do.

He could make her tea.

He could love her quietly, patiently—even if she wasn’t sure she could receive it yet.

Even if they were strangers in the same bed… he remembered what it felt like to be more.

And he wasn’t ready to give up on that. Not now. Not ever.

The couch felt too soft beneath her.

Or maybe she just felt too hollow. Like a paper shell sinking into something meant for weight and presence, not this kind of ghostly absence.

Suniva didn’t open her eyes, even though she knew he’d left the room. She could still feel the shape of his hands—the way they’d held her so carefully, like she was something rare, breakable. The blanket he’d tucked around her still held the heat of his body. It made her ache in a way she didn’t have words for.

She used to live for his touch.

Now she didn’t even know how to respond to it.

Her fingers clenched slightly in the fur throw, the scent of it vaguely familiar—lavender and something warm. Their daughter used to nap here. Right on this couch. Right where she was laying now.

Yara would curl up against her chest, tiny and warm and safe. Suniva could still feel the ghost of that weight sometimes when she closed her eyes.

God, she missed her.

And she missed him.

Even now, with Roman only a room away, she felt the distance like a canyon carved deep and wide between them. Grief had a way of separating even the most unshakable things. It hadn’t just taken Yara. It had taken everything.

But then she heard the soft sounds again. The clink of the kettle. The gentle pour of water. The muted scrape of the tea press he hated using.

And something fluttered.

She remembered the night he’d surprised her with the tea bar—how giddy she’d been, how much effort he’d put into a ritual he didn’t even care for. How he drank every cup she handed him, no matter how bitter or floral, just to make her happy.

That man—the man she was supposed to marry—he was still there. She felt him in those quiet gestures. In the way he carried her like she was still his whole world, even after all this time spent apart in the same house.

She hated how much she’d shut him out. But she hadn’t known how to let him in when everything inside her felt so... dead.

And yet, here he was. Making her tea. Still trying.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye before she could stop it. It slid down her cheek, disappearing into the blanket.

She didn’t move.

Not when she heard the soft pad of Roman’s feet returning to the living room. Not when he crouched down beside her with the delicate cup in hand.

“Here,” he said, voice low, just for her. “I made your favorite.”

She opened her eyes, blinking against the burn. His face was shadowed, tired, and something about it made her chest pull tight.

Her fingers brushed his as she took the cup.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoarse.

Roman didn’t smile. But his eyes softened in that way they used to—quiet, full of unspoken things.

They sat there in silence, the faint aroma of fennel rising between them. She sipped once, let it settle in her chest like warmth she didn’t realize she needed.

Roman sat on the crisp white sofa next to her, elbow resting loosely on the edge of the couch, his eyes on the mug she held close to her chest. The tea was still too hot to sip again, but she clung to it like a lifeline.

The silence between them stretched long, but not empty. It was fragile. Heavy with things unsaid.

He watched her closely—her drawn face, the trembling of her lip, the way her fingers curled tighter around the mug with every passing second. He didn’t want to push her. But he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen. The way she’d clung to the toilet, sick and sobbing like her body was rejecting something.

Roman cleared his throat softly. “Are you coming down with something? Did that make you nauseous?”

Suniva shook her head.

“Something you ate?”

Again, she gave the barest shake of her head, her eyes never leaving the mug.

He hesitated. Swallowed hard. “You used to only get sick like that when… you were pregnant.”

The words hung there, bare and raw and unintentionally cruel.

Suniva didn’t flinch. Didn’t answer.

He shifted closer, lowering his voice. “What happened, baby?”

For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t respond.

But then her lips parted—just slightly—and when her voice came, it was so soft and cracked that it hardly sounded like her at all.

“I had a dream.”

Roman straightened. His heart caught somewhere in his throat. He didn’t move, afraid to break whatever spell was allowing her to speak.

“Or maybe it was a nightmare,” she whispered.

He waited, eyes locked on her face.

“It was morning,” she said, voice distant like she was still half there. “And I could hear birds outside… and the sound of cartoons. You know that faint echo of them when the volume’s low but you know exactly which ones are playing?”

Roman nodded slowly, the image forming painfully clear in his mind.

“And I smelled breakfast. Sausage, maple syrup… your eggs. The way you make them with too much butter even though I always get on you for it.”

His throat tightened. She was remembering something that hadn’t happened. And yet it felt more vivid than most real memories.

“I got out of bed,” she continued, tears beginning to pool in her lashes. “And it wasn’t hard this time. My legs weren’t heavy. My chest didn’t ache. I didn’t feel like I was going to break all over the floor.”

Her voice caught, and Roman’s jaw clenched.

“I walked into the living room. Here.” Her gaze finally drifted from the mug to the room around them. “You were sitting right there… on the couch. And she was with you.”

Roman’s heart stopped.

“And she wasn’t a baby. Not anymore. Maybe five, six. Beautiful. So beautiful. She looked just like you—same dark eyes, crooked little smile. But she had my curls and my nose."

Suniva’s voice cracked on a breath. “She was laughing, Roman. Just… belly laughing at something on the screen. Holding a little fork in her hand with pancake on it, like it was the best thing in the world.”

Roman’s eyes began to sting.

“She looked up at me. Smiled like I’d been gone too long. And she said…” Her voice broke completely, and the tears spilled over. “She said, ‘C’mon, Mommy. Join us.’”

Suniva sobbed into her sleeve, her whole body curling in on itself.

Roman leaned forward instinctively, reaching for her, but she wasn’t done.

“I smiled back,” she gasped, shaking her head, as if she could still feel the dream dissolving. “I stepped forward, ready to sit with you both. I felt the joy. I felt it.”

A pause.

“But just before I could reach you, I woke up. And she was gone. Just… gone.”

Roman closed his eyes, his head bowed. His breath came in shallow pulls, the pain in his chest blooming like a bruise.

“I tried to go back to sleep,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Tried so hard. I wanted to stay there. I didn’t want to be here without her.”

Her hand trembled as she wiped her cheek, her voice ragged. “And I remembered. I remembered everything. That she’s not here. That she’s gone. And it made me sick. It made me so sick, Romie.”

His heart clenched not only at her painful revelation, but the nickname she so affectionately called him. More affection than he remembered her having for him in what felt like years.

She finally looked at him—and what he saw there, the depth of grief in her eyes, shattered whatever piece of him was still holding on.

A strangled sob caught in his throat. He blinked fast, looked away, but the tears came anyway, hot and relentless.

“I miss her,” Suniva whispered. “I miss her so much it hurts to breathe.”

Roman crawled up onto the couch beside her, pulling her into his chest, one hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“I know,” he rasped. “I miss her too.”

They cried together, wrapped in each other, broken in different ways but bound by the same wound.

And for the first time in weeks, they weren’t alone in their grief.

The morning light began to creep in through the blinds, painting soft golden stripes across the living room. The TV had long gone black, the tea now cold on the table. Wrapped in the thick fur throw, Suniva lay curled against Roman’s chest, their legs tangled, their bodies instinctively folded into each other like muscle memory—like home.

Roman was awake.

He hadn’t slept much. Not really. The comfort of her breathing against his skin was the only thing that kept his eyes closed. Every time he started to drift, he’d hear her breath hitch, or feel her fingers twitch against his chest, and the loop in his mind would start all over again.

Yara’s laugh. Yara’s cry. The way she’d looked swaddled in his arms. The last time he’d held her. The silence after.

It was never-ending.

Suniva stirred gently, blinking into the light with swollen eyes and a slow, dazed blink. She was disoriented for a second. Then Roman’s arms shifted around her, holding her a little tighter, and she remembered.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she buried her face deeper into his chest.

“…I hate mornings,” she murmured hoarsely.

Roman rubbed her back in slow, steady circles, not saying a word. Letting her take her time. He didn’t want to scare away whatever little door had opened in her last night.

“I used to love them,” she whispered. “I’d get up early just to beat the sun. Make my coffee. Light a candle. Wash my hair. Just… be a person.”

He swallowed hard, waiting.

“Now…” her voice cracked, “…there are days I feel like I can't even lift my head.”

She slowly shifted to lie on her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling, her voice void of judgment, just full of quiet truth. “It’s like… there’s a weight on my chest. Not metaphorical. Real. Like something’s sitting on me, pressing down.”

Roman turned on his side to face her, his hand never leaving her.

“I cry so much I feel lightheaded,” she went on, her voice small, “like I’m floating half the time. Like I’m not really here.”

She turned her head toward him. “I used to love getting my hair done. Loved sitting under that stupid dryer. Loved how I felt when I walked out of the salon like a bad bitch.”

That made him exhale softly through his nose, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

She didn’t smile back.

“I can barely wash it now. I stand in the shower with shampoo in my hands and I just… I just stare.”

Roman’s eyes burned again. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“I don’t care about anything, Ro. Not the way I used to. Not even me.”

She looked at him, her voice barely audible. “But you… you get up. You get dressed. You go out. You still live. Sometimes I envy you.”

He shook his head immediately, lips parting with a breath that trembled. “Sunny…”

“You do,” she insisted, though there was no accusation in her tone—only aching honesty. “You keep going. You smile for people. You check your emails. You take calls. You function.”

"I'll have you know I don't smile at anyone." Finally a small and barely noticeable grunt, resembling laughter came from the woman atop him.

“I survive,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s all.”

She frowned.

“You think I’m not breaking?” he asked, voice low and tight. “You think Yara’s not in my head every second of every damn day?”

Her lips parted slightly, stunned.

“I see her everywhere, Suniva. In every pink sock left behind, in every lullaby that plays on a commercial, in the middle seat of my truck where her car seat used to be. I see her when I brush my teeth. When I fold a towel. When I walk through the front door and realize it’s too quiet.”

His hand trembled as he brought it to her cheek. “You think I don’t want to stay in bed and disappear, too? But if I stop… if I stop, I don’t think I’ll come back from it.”

"And we'd be broke." It was too much to think things were on the up and up from here, but Roman savored the little bit of the old Sunny that peeked out with such crass humor.

"Far from it, girl. But still, getting out of bed and functioning is the only control I feel like I still have."

She blinked rapidly, her tears returning without warning.

Roman leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, their breath shared in the small space between.

“I’m not stronger than you,” he whispered. “I’m just breaking slower.”

She let out a cracked sound—half sob, half exhale—and curled into him again. This time with arms wrapping around his torso and face pressed into his chest like she needed to hear his heartbeat to stay grounded.

They lay like that in the quiet morning, grief a third presence in the room—but no longer unspoken.

Just shared.

The house was still quiet, but the heaviness had shifted.

Not gone—but no longer suffocating.

Roman watched from the hallway, leaned against the doorframe as soft steam curled from the bathroom door. It had been his idea, worded with care and offered with patience—just a shower. Just some warm water. Just a moment to feel human again.

She hadn’t said anything in response. But after a beat, she nodded, stood up, and let him walk her to the bathroom.

Now, he could hear the faint splash of water. The creak of the pipes. The subtle click of bottles being opened. The rhythmic drag of a brush pulling through tangled hair.

It wasn’t much.

Not her usual twenty-minute playlist and coconut oil pre-poo. Not the scent of her vanilla and hibiscus body scrub that used to linger for hours after she passed by. Not the hum of her voice singing in a pretty falsetto to herself like she used to when she thought no one was listening.

But it was something.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat.

When she emerged, she looked… different. Not fixed. Not okay. But different and still beautiful.

Her face was bare and pale, her eyes still puffy, but her hair was damp and pulled into a loose ponytail that revealed the elegant slope of her neck. She wore a fresh set of soft cotton lounge clothes—Roman recognized them as the ones Yara had spit up on once that she refused to throw away.

Suniva didn't say anything, but when their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them. A fragile acknowledgment.

He smiled gently, lifting his hand in a silent thumbs-up.

Her lips curved just slightly, barely there, but real. Then she dropped her gaze and padded softly into the bedroom.

Roman lingered behind, letting the moment settle in his chest like a stone. He hadn't realized how long he’d been holding his breath until now.

That was a step.

Small. Miniscule, even. But forward.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a beat.

That dream she told him about still echoed in his head—the image of Yara as a five-year-old, curls bouncing, eyes bright. Her voice calling out, "C’mon, Mommy."

The ache it left in its wake hadn’t dulled. But it was what followed that had rattled him more.

The way Sunny spoke about the weight on her chest. The emptiness. The stillness. Her apathy toward herself. It was more than grief. It was more than sadness.

It was depression.

And not the passing kind. Not the “bad day” kind. This was the kind that whispered things in your ear. The kind that convinced you the world would keep spinning without you. The kind that cloaked you so thickly you forgot what it felt like to be warm.

Roman ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

Jimmy had been right.

They couldn’t keep doing this alone. He couldn’t love her out of this. He could carry her when she stumbled, hold her when she cried, hell—he’d catch her every time she fell if that’s what it took. But this? This was deeper. It needed help.

He’d been trying to stay strong for her, to hold everything together, to keep them afloat through sheer will. But holding it all in hadn’t saved her. It hadn’t even touched the darkness she was drowning in.

They needed more.

She needed someone to talk to. Someone trained. Someone who could give her the tools to climb out, not just survive the fall.

Roman pressed his thumb against the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply.

He had to bring it up. Not today—not yet. But soon. Carefully. Gently.

He couldn’t lose her too.

He wouldn’t.

————————————————————————————

Tags 🏷️:

@trippinsorrows @southerngirl41 @lilucey @alichesmi @skyesthebomb

@reginawhorge01 @jazzyboo123-blog1 @overrboarrd @heerah34 @whowrotethenote

@sharmelasworld @purplementalitybluebird @sheaabuttaababyy @beccalynns-world @littlepieceofsh

@diamondlifeee @jaded-human @pittieprincess22 @eringobragh420

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list !

Ask always open 💌

[charliegyrth]

Fat Camp Reunion - Part 2

Jacob's Incredible Story

Read Part 1 here. (So far, Phillip the narrator has gone back to his childhood drama camp to discover that everyone there is now obese. He has no idea why, but he's about to find out thanks to Jacob, his first boyfriend.)

***

I got a little lost on the way to the cabins. The trails were exactly the same, but I was too overloaded with thoughts to pay attention. Finally, I made it to the cabin with a big number 4 on its door.

It looked like all the other cabins, small and wooden with wide windows on either side of the entrance. The only difference (besides the number) was a mobility scooter sitting on the porch. That was my first hint of what I’d see inside.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. I braced myself for what I’d find.

“Phillip!” a familiar voice shouted.

“J-Jacob.” My breath caught in my throat.

I’d seen people this big before. Not in real life, but on those trashy reality shows. My 600-Pound Life or Half-Ton Fiancé or whatever. (I’d never actually watched those shows, of course, but you can’t escape their commercials.)

Jacob sat on one of the cabin’s beds, his massive body filling up most of the mattress. His arms and legs looked useless, covered in Michelin Man rolls. His belly was huge and shapeless, spreading around him in all directions, and his chest (once sporting muscular pecs much nicer than mine) had sprouted drooping sacks of fat with fist-sized nipples that were more-than-visible under the thin fabric of his food-stained shirt.

I thought the other guys were huge, but Jacob outweighed all of them by at least a hundred pounds. Could he even walk anymore? He must be able to, since his mobility scooter was parked outside. He must’ve been able to make the ten trudging steps from the door to the bed.

I was horrified. And sad. I felt so, so sad for him. I might’ve elevated my memories of him in my brain, but he used to be the most handsome, the most naturally athletic man I’d ever known. Now, he was buried.

And the saddest part was that, despite how soft and weak his body was, his face was still recognizably Jacob. He had a new slab of flesh under his jaw, but overall, his head didn’t look nearly as fat as the rest of him. (And he still had the same adorable blond curls.)

I think that made everything worse. If his face had been as unrecognizable as his body, then maybe I could handle what he’d become. Instead, all I saw was my first love, my beautiful Jacob, trapped in fat.

“Sit with me,” he said in his familiar voice. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

I didn’t want to sit with him. I didn’t want to touch him, because that would only make all of this real. And even if I wanted to, there wasn’t any space left on the mattress.

I remained standing in the middle of the cabin. “Jacob, what happened to you?”

“I grew.”

That answer made me gulp.

“Please sit,” he tried again. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Slowly, I approached him. I looked into his eyes, seeing the same wide-open, trusting expression that I’d falling in love with all those years ago, and I sat next to him. I couldn’t avoid feeling his side-fat. He felt so warm.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. It was awkward.

Finally, Jacob spoke. “You look great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone your size.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer. “Can I… feel you?”

“Okay?”

He raised his hand to my chest and slid his sausage fingers across my pec. “Wow. That’s hard.” His voice sounded intrigued, as if he couldn’t even remember when he had muscles just like these.

“Thank you.”

He felt my stomach next, tracing his fingers between my (very slight) abs. “Huh,” he said, like he was studying me.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” I said.

Jacob took a deep breath and then (finally!) he gave me some answers. “The year after we went to Sunrise Pines, a new company moved to our town. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Moulton proper before…”

“I haven’t,” I interrupted him. I’d only been to the camp itself, not the town nearby. When my mom dropped me off here, we didn’t even drive through Moulton. We just took the freeway.

“Well, back then, Moulton was really struggling. It was a mining town, but the mines closed in the 90s and our population started shrinking. And then we got a new factory. Sweet Cheeks Confections. Ever heard of them? They make donuts, snack cakes, a whole bunch of packaged stuff.”

I shook my head.

“Well, they’re great. You’re really missing out.” He placed his hand on my thigh, still curiously feeling my hard muscle as if he’d forgotten what it felt like. “So once the factory opened, a lot of the locals started working there. And our shops were filled with their products. Everyone loved ’em.”

“And that’s why your whole town got fat?” I asked. It seemed crazy that extra snacks on store shelves would lead to such extreme obesity.

“Nope. We got fat because of their advertising campaign.”

“Huh?”

He paused his story. “Um, can you hand me some of those?” He nodded toward a pile of brownie boxes on the dresser next to me. Each one had the bright pink Sweet Cheeks label. I guess I had seen those at 7-Eleven before.

I grabbed a box and handed it to him. More accurately, I placed it on his belly.

He bit his lip, a bit embarrassed. “Um, all of them, please. I haven’t eaten in an hour.”

There were four more boxes on the dresser. I piled them up on his belly while his tore open the first box. I watched as he shoved the first brownie into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. Then he shoved in a second and a third.

“Okay,” he said, the burst of sugar giving him the energy to continue. “So the advertising campaign. Sweet Cheeks wanted to increase its local sales, so they started giving out free samples and hosting eating competitions every weekend. When I first heard about the competitions, I thought they were stupid. But then I learned that Sweet Cheeks would be filming the contestants and using the winners for nationwide commercials. As an actor looking for my big break, I couldn’t pass that up.”

He ate a couple more brownies stacked on top of each other.

“When I signed up for the first one, I was about your size. How much do you weigh? Like 250?”

That number made me choke. “250? I’m… Dude, I’m 170.”

“Oh. Sorry. It’s been so long. I guess I can’t really think in such low numbers anymore.” He glanced down at my torso. “170. Dang. Yeah, I weighed about that much. But I really wanted to win. To get famous or whatever. So I just went for it. Stuffed myself senseless. Beat four other contestants, all much bigger and older than me. It was at our town park. Cameras everywhere. Best feeling of my life.”

“So they put you in their commercials?” I asked. I didn’t remember this at all.

“Sadly, no. They had competitions every weekend. I kept going back. I kept winning. Every time, the Sweet Cheeks reps gave me trophies and made me pose for a bunch of photos. They had me sign contracts so they could use my eating footage for their ads, but those never happened. They went in another direction.” He held up one of the brownie boxes (empty now), tapping his thumb against the smiling cupcake mascot. “They thought that this cartoon guy would sell more.”

“Okay?” I said. I still didn’t understand where this story was going.

“I didn’t get famous,” he said as he opened up the second box, “but I didn’t care anymore. I had attention. You remember what it was like on the stage, watching an audience laugh at your jokes and hang on every word. Well, the crowds at these competitions were like that times 100. Every bite I took was riveting to them. The cheers. The chanting. The fucking signs that they held up. I know it was just in Moulton, but people loved me.”

“For eating brownies?” I asked. I was watching him eat brownies right now. He seemed to shove them in between sentences, so fast that he barely had to stop talking. I didn’t feel like cheering at all. I just felt sad for him.

“For eating everything,” he said. “Every weekend was different. And I don’t know if you knew this about me, but people sort of follow my lead.”

I did know that. Back in camp, everyone wanted to be like Jacob, myself included. He was magnetic.

“So one-by-one, all my friends who were suspicious of Sweet Cheeks eventually gave in. That first eating competition had four people. A month later, we were up to twenty. After that, hundreds. All the guys at Sunrise Pines signed up. People in town made bets. Everyone had their favorite eaters. But I’m proud to say, no one was as skilled as me.”

He placed his second brownie box to the side. He’d eaten that entire thing without me realizing. Now he was onto the third.

“I started gaining weight pretty quickly,” he said. “Muffin top first. Then moobs. I was deeply conflicted about that. I had this really messed up image of what an ideal body type was. No offense.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I’m pretty sure he was telling me that I had an “ideal body type,” which was a compliment. But he said it in such a negative way.

“Had some doubts for a while, but when I walked around Moulton with my new belly on full display, literally everyone who saw me gave me these congratulatory belly pats and gushed about what big fans they were. They saw my gain as this badge of honor, and I started to see it that way, too. So I kept eating and growing. And the rest is history.”

Damn. This entire story was ridiculous. And the casual tone of his voice made everything seem so much more ridiculous.

“Is everyone in Moulton fat?”

He thought for a second. “Yeah. We are. Eating competitions are part of our culture now. Not just the officially sponsored ones—Sweet Cheeks stopped hosting events years ago—but, well, every meal is sort of a competition. You probably noticed that in the canteen.”

I thought back to all my old friends sitting on their fat asses with massive piles of food in front of them. I thought about all the empty plates, too. They weren’t just eating lunch. They were out-eating each other.

It’s crazy that one company’s gimmick had transformed an entire town. And honestly, I know that the effects wouldn’t have been so drastic if Jacob hadn’t been involved. He got sucked into competitive eating, and everyone automatically followed him like they always did.

He threw the third empty box to the side. He had crumbs all down his stained, white shirt, most of them collected in the depression between his overflowing moobs.

“Are you happy?” The words surprised me as they came out of my mouth.

He looked me right in the eyes. “Phillip. I’ve never been happier. Everyone I meet is in awe of me. I’m a star in my own town, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But… I mean, can you even do things anymore?” I knew that was an awkward way of phrasing my question, but I had to ask. Aside from shoving things into his mouth, it seemed like all this weight would make most movements difficult.

He half-smiled in a very flirty way. It was the look he used to give me when he took me behind the amphitheater to make out. “I can do plenty of stuff.” Then he chuckled. “Yeah, there are limitations. You’ll probably need to help me get off this bed, for example. But I have my scooter. And I have plenty of fans who’ll do anything for me.”

That last comment filled me with a surprising amount of jealousy, and I didn’t know why.

As he demolished the fourth box, shoving in brownie after brownie in conveyor-belt speed, his eyes remained locked on me. He was studying me, gauging my reactions. If I weren’t here, he’d probably still be eating, but with me sitting next to him, he was using these brownies as some sort of test.

That left me with one question left, probably the most important one. Why had he invited me here? I mean, he’d sent me a personalized invitation. He’d planned this whole reunion, yet he wasn’t even hanging out with our other friends. He was in the cabin. With me. Eating for me. Telling me his story.

Did he expect me to like what he’d become?

What was I supposed to say right now?

The last of the brownies slid down his throat and he let out a deep, contented burp. Didn’t cover his mouth. Still watching me, waiting for a reaction.

My brain was short-circuiting. All I could do was look into his beautiful blue eyes.

His familiar eyes.

His expectant eyes.

His face was still so handsome. And his overflowing body, angled toward me as much as it would allow him… I don’t know, I felt like he was presenting himself to me, showing me the hundreds and hundreds of pounds that he’d built on himself.

What did he want me to do?!

When it was clear that I wasn’t going to say anything (that I literally couldn’t), he finally cut to the chase: “Everyone loves me in Moulton. An entire town either wants me or wants to be like me. It’s amazing. But for a while now, I’ve been thinking about you, about what we used to have. I should be in the canteen right now, showing everyone who’s still the champion. But I choose to be here with you. This is the first meal I’ve skipped in years.”

He didn’t count all those brownies. They were just a snack to him.

“I don’t know what to say.” (That was the understatement of the year.)

He took a deep breath, though it got interrupted by another slight burp. “It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me the way you’re looking at me now. I can tell you’re confused, scared. Maybe disgusted. And that’s okay. But you’ll be here for the weekend, and I just want you to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” I said, though I still wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking.

“No pressure,” he added, sensing the uncertainty in my voice. “But it would be nice to try a few things. Feedings or whatever. I have a feeling you’ll like ’em.”

Before I said anything else, he slid his massive body toward me and kissed me. His belly flab covered my lap. His thick hands held my face.

I was butter. I melted into him, all the memories from what we once had came rushing back. And somehow, I enjoyed the sensation of his new body squish against me. I was his.

He ended the kiss much too soon, leaving me breathless.

“Knock knock,” someone shouted outside our door.

I instinctively pulled away from Jacob, though I didn’t have a lot of room. The edges of his belly were still resting on my thigh.

“Come in!” he shouted, though he was smiling at me as he said it.

The door creaked open and Eugene walked in first, carrying a tray of lasagna. Then a few more guys came in with equally large trays. Then a few more.

“Room service,” Jacob explained to me. “Told ya I had help.”

Bobby, the last one to enter, brought in a fold-up table that he assembled in front of us. Then everyone set the food on top, like ancient islanders making offerings to their chief.

Jacob was beaming from ear to ear. Despite all the sugar that he’d wolfed down, the sight of this spread caused his stomach to rumble. “Well,” Jacob said to me. “Open mind, right? Wanna help me finish my lunch?”

On one level, I did. For curiosity alone, I wanted to see him in action. But on another level, I really needed to clear my head. “Actually, I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll, um, be back.”

He didn’t seem disappointed. I appreciated that. “Suit yourself. But if I’m not finished when you get back, you’ll help me, right?”

“Okay.” I hurried out of there. None of the other guys left. They had already finished their lunch, and now they were ready to just sit back and watch.

As I closed the door behind me, I heard slurps and chews. And one guy (Frankie, I think) muttered, “Damn.”

I spent the next fifteen minutes wandering around the camp by myself, recognizing all the old places and enjoying the fresh air. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jacob, though. About our kiss, and the way his belly felt, and the way he made my heart race.

And now I’m back in my car, writing this all down for everyone to read.

I’m so freaking conflicted. For the next two and a half days, I’ll be here. I’ve already decided that I’ll be true to my word. I’ll keep an open mind. And yeah, I’ll partake in the feedings.

What I haven’t decided (and why I’m asking for your help) is whether I’m going to just feed Jacob or whether I’m going to let him feed me too.

I can see myself learning to appreciate his body and maybe help him continue to grow it. I’m definitely open to that. But if he wants to turn the tables and feed me, if he expects me to start catching up to everyone else here, would that be a step too far?

Please. Tell me what to do. Your advice will definitely affect how I spend the rest of the weekend (and maybe the rest of my life, too.)

This weekend, should I feed Jacob or should I allow him to feed me?

To Be Continued...

Hi, everybody! Charlie Gyrth here. I hope you liked the story, but I'm serious about that final question. I'm ready to write a continuation, but I have two possible paths to take and I wanted to see which one would be more interesting: Phillip as encourager or Phillip as gainer. Let me know in the comments.

[corpsedogs]

Dreaming costs money (Jason Todd x reader)

✿ chapter 5 — the two of you come back from the hotel, you then ask him why your father hired him. tag and masterlist

The door clicked shut behind you as you and Jason entered the room. You kicked off your boots, tossed your hoodie on the nearest chair, and collapsed face-first into the bed.

“Okay,” you mumbled into the duvet. “That was the best night I’ve had in… forever.”

Jason set his jacket on the back of a chair and locked the door behind him, checking the windows like he always did. “Glad tacos and walking aimlessly through back alleys counts as luxury now.”

You rolled over, watching him from the bed. “You’re always on edge. Even after tacos.”

He didn’t respond, just moved to the table and started unloading his gear: a knife, a sidearm, a burner phone. You sat up, crossing your legs under you.

“Why’d my dad pick you?” you asked suddenly.

Jason paused, then gave you a long look. “What?”

“To be my bodyguard.”

Jason exhaled, sat down on the edge of his bed. “He didn’t pick me because I’m the best. He picked me because he owns me.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Jason rubbed a hand down his face, like he was already regretting the answer. “A couple weeks ago, I raided his armories. All of them. One night. Took out half his weapon supply.”

You stared. “You’re joking.”

“I’m really not,” he muttered.

“And you’re still alive because…?”

“Because instead of killing me, he decided to get creative. Said if I didn’t do this, he’d expose who I really am. Jason Todd. Put a bounty on my head and let the entire criminal underworld rip me to pieces.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of it settling in. “So… this is punishment?”

“This is leverage,” he said quietly. “This whole gig is just me buying my safety back.”

You looked at him carefully now, “And you agreed? Just like that?”

He met your eyes. “You think I had a choice?” Silence stretched. You bit your lip, then asked more gently, “Do you hate it? Watching me, being here?”

When your mom died, your dad took advantage of it. Though technically Mari had a boss, if Black Mask said so— she’d follow. So you’d always be surprised with new bodyguards hired or killed.

You were exhausted of this cycle, seeing all these people die because your dad think they didn’t do a good job.

Jason didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back on his palms and looked over at you, softer than before. “At first, yeah. I hated it.”

“And now?”

He shrugged. “Now I don’t know. You’re not what I expected either.”

You didn’t say anything, but your eyes lingered on him longer than they should have. The space between your beds suddenly felt smaller than it had all night.

“Get some sleep,” Jason said at last, standing. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

You nodded slowly and turned away, but your mind stayed wide awake.

And so did his.

You wondered, how long was he going to last like the rest? You worried he’d be gone by the time you woke up— and the next day you’d see another bodyguard take his place.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the rustle of sheets as you shifted on the bed.

Despite how tired you were, sleep was elusive. You kept replaying the conversation in your head.

You let out a quiet sigh, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like you had anyone to talk to about it, but you weren’t sure you wanted to. It wasn’t his problem, but it felt like it was slowly becoming yours.

You heard Jason’s movements across the room, the scrape of a chair, the faint clink of his knives as he meticulously cleaned them. Even in the dark, he was always alert. His life, it seemed, had trained him to never stop scanning, never stop being prepared.

You turned over, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Jason?” you called softly, unsure if he’d hear you.

He stopped mid-action and looked over at you. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, fighting the urge to roll over and bury yourself in the blankets again. Instead, you locked eyes with him. “What happens if I mess up? If I don’t make this easy for you?”

Jason didn’t immediately answer, but the shift in his expression told you he wasn’t entirely caught off guard.

He sat down on the edge of the bed closest to you, his posture loose but still tense, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the distance between you.

“If you mess up…” He trailed off, but then gave you a pointed look, like he was deciding how much of the truth he should share. “I’ll deal with it. But I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You swallowed at the weight of his words, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “Is that a promise, or a threat?”

Jason’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Depends on how you act.” He chuckled softly. “And if you stop trying to sneak off and get yourself into trouble every five minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “I can’t help it. Being stuck in a hotel room all the time is driving me crazy.”

“I’m the one guarding you,” he said, leaning back with a dry look. “You don’t see me complaining.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, comfortable for a moment.

Something about the way he looked at you, though, made your chest tighten a little.

You shifted in your bed, tugging the blanket tighter around you. “I didn’t ask for this either,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “Being a crime lord’s daughter. Having everyone else in my life wrapped up in it.”

Jason’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything at first. He just leaned back and studied you for a second before speaking quietly. “Doesn’t matter if you asked for it or not. You’re in it now. I’ll help you through it. But you gotta trust me.”

You’d heard it all before— people making promises they couldn’t keep. But there was something in Jason’s voice, something different that made you believe it.

You let out a soft exhale and slowly leaned back into your pillow, staring at the ceiling. Jason, on the other hand, was still sitting there. Silent. Waiting.

“Get some sleep, for real.” he repeated, softer this time.

You turned your head toward him, eyes half-lidded. “Goodnight, Jason.”

tags: @deadbeatphobos @lingxio @nkryuki @lettucel0ver @punchdrunkjay @ydkmsstuff

[theartofwoompwoomps]

Im too old for this nonsense 

Tfp Ratchet x Human! Reader

Summary: hates love, hates distractions. But he doesn’t hate you. Though he thinks you’ll be grossed out if you knew how he felt

———————————————————————

We all know that he’s a grumpy old mech. Too tired, and too exhausted to let himself be distracted by others.

Heck, he hates the idea of getting close to anyone else. Having lost too many, he can’t bare to relive the pain again.

That’s why he works and works, till his servos can’t move and his optics can’t see. Overworking himself until he can give no more.

The only thing grounding him when he reaches his limit is your own small hands moving around him. Checking him to see if he’s alright. He appreciates your company. 

You always stuck around.

Even with his grumpy attitude that didn’t stop you from cleaning anything you could, keeping his things organized, and getting supplies he needed. 

And here you were once again. Though this time it you couldn’t keep up him. Your body sprawled on his lap, slowly sub coming to sleep as he continued working on his datapad.

Why did you always do this?

Humans are much more delicate than him. You know this. Yet you always worked hard to help him.

He knew you might think it’s not a lot, but a lot of small things build up to something bigger. And that’s what it was with you. Every detail or help you gave, no matter how small, ended up warming his spark. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know it. 

So no matter how annoyed he was with you and everything else. He genuinely cares for your wellbeing. Picking you up gently, he moved you onto the couch. Placing a blanket on you before he heads back to continue his work.

He should have known better. The fact you were overtaken by your fatigue should have been a sign for him to take a break. 

But he couldn’t afford it.

This could help everyone. Including you. He kept working despite feeling his body getting twitchy and heavy, but he had to get this done. He couldn’t fail.

But alas, his optics were closing and he could no longer resist the plea his body oh so desperately need for some sleep. 

When he gained consciousness of his surroundings again he felt the work space he recharged on. 

Feeling his back sore, he opens his options groggily trying to see what’s going on. Looking over a clock it showed it was past noon. 

Past noon?! He had to finish last night. Frustrated, he got up, quickly logging into his notes only to see the writing was different.

In fact, everything he was working on was reorganized and label. And he saw an energon cube nearby with a small note.

“Morning Doc, went out to get some coffee. We ran out of the good stuff. As you can see I left you some alien breakfast. Also hope the rearrangements help you find your notes faster lol. See you in a bit my lovely hardworking doctor :D <3”

Rolling his eyes at that last part. Ofc you always had to include your strange nonsense, but at this point he’s not surprised why he fell for you. 

He chuckled, just thinking about you endeared him. But he knew he couldn’t allow himself more than that. You are human. He is an autobot. You deserve to be happy, not to be burned with his problems.

Hates that you have this control over him without you even realizing it, but that’s probably for the better. He shoves those thoughts aways as he starts to work where he left off.

Only that your note kept coming to mind.

How that heart you drew at the end twists his spark. Imagining you with an unreasonable amount of coffee on your way this instant brought a small smile on his face.

“Of course, it’s always the coffee over me isn’t it.” He chuckles at his own thoughts. 

“Oh cmon doc, give me more credit than that.” Playful as always, you indeed came back with too many bags of instant coffee. 

Rolling his eyes at your comment he scoffs playfully at you. Once again, biting his tongue from ever letting the conversation go on longer. Worried that the consequences of getting close to someone will hurt him.

Especially when the someone he likes romantically is a human.

A human would most definitely want to be with another human.

Not with him.

He’s just a bucket of metal who’s too tired for all of that. He could never treat you the same way a human would, it’s better if you just stay with your own kind.

But it seemed you had different plans. Always finding ways to stay with him and wriggle your way into his spark. He kept this to himself. 

He finished his work for the day and was about to recharge but your soft whisper interrupted. “Hey doc.”

“Yes (y/n).” He groans a bit as he responds with his eyes closed. “As an expert in the biology for cybertronians i got a question.” He hums in interest, wondering were you’re going with this.

“Is it possible, in theory, for a cybertronian to have a romantic relationship with a human.” 

Now he was fully awake. 

“(Y/n), why in the world do you need to know that? I don’t see how it’s beneficial to explore the topic.” 

He hope he hid it well. How flustered he actually was from your question. “yes, I know, I know. But is it possible?” 

Turning to face you on his night stand. You were in your own human berth staring at him.

He wanted to say yes. The urge to say that’s what he wanted with you was strong. His own spark pressuring him to shared his true thoughts.

But, He didn’t know what consequences his response would lead to, and that scared him. 

you were genuinely asking for an answer, and he just couldn’t just ignore you. No matter how much of a waste of time it was.

“Well, in theory, yes. It is possible.” 

He’s not sure cause he barely caught it, but he’s pretty sure you got flustered at that comment before you hid your face. 

“Oh alright.” You were giddy and a bit flushed yourself. Wasn’t sure what your reaction specifically meant, but he hoped it was a hint that you indeed feel the same he did about you.

———————————————————————

Masterlist

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

The Roses of Yesterday: Chapter Seven

Read here

He turned the burner on his lamp as low as it would go, and brought the paper to his maskless face, tapping it against his lips as he debated his next move.

There you go, Erik, sticking your nose into things that you ought to leave behind.

But Erik does not have a nose! And that is why he is entitled to his snooping.

His fingers trembled as he unfolded the bit of paper between them, this time with all the care one might give to an injured sparrow. It took a concerted effort to smooth the paper into legibility; this time, when its contents were revealed to their fullest extent, he had to force himself to look.

In his hands was the portrait of a man viewed from behind—a strange rhombus, silhouetted in a dark ground of charcoal pencil; his suspenders were haphazardly slipping down his shoulders—which Augustine had taken care to give a certain exaggerated angularity—and the wrinkles in his shirt were rendered with a light and tender hand; to the creature’s left, the very drafting stool he kept in the upstairs studio, atop which sat his pipe—a whisper of white Conté curling out from its bowl. And his easel? Empty. And in place of where a model—the wildflower, or else some other sylph of his imagination—might have stood, there was only an open window.

And then he understood.

This is what she sees.

A strange sort of terror fell upon him, and all sense of time and space gradually slipped; for all he knew, the opera had been completed as he sat there staring at himself. In those minutes, the world became little more than a notion of himself he did not want to recognize and the surrounding darkness.

Gradually, shock and horror gave way to anger; the audacity of the woman. And instead of the sunshine picking out his hair, the loving detail she gave to the enamel on his hashish pipe, all he saw in Augustine’s work were sloppy mistakes and crudity.

Her sense of perspective is a nightmare.

I’ve seen more human proportions chiseled on cave walls.

And this is why it is perhaps best that women are not taught to study the male nude.

They were cruel thoughts—downright unfair, given that the drawing in question was a mere notebook sketch and that its owner was hardly afforded the same opportunities one received at the Academy. But she was not some artistic ingenue in need of a guiding hand, nor he her teacher. And while he supposed that Augustine had meant no harm in her little flights of whimsy, the pencil marks before him seemed to divine a foreboding message all the same.

He rose on unsteady feet, his empty hand palming at the walls for support, lest he should get sick. This—this caricature, this whole situation, this woman falling asleep on his lap and making him little promises—this had not been part of his design; he had not invited this woman into his home for the purpose of being gawked at.

Has she ever gawked at Erik?—not with those sweet, sad eyes of hers—why would she, when she says she wants to make him happy? The man on this paper is who she wants to make happy.

And how much of him was really there in Monsieur Faucher? How much of Monsieur Faucher was this hideous lump of flesh moldering in the dark.

(Read more here)

--

This is something of a loose transitional chapter, but I had a TON of fun writing it. Lots of Erik being a loser and not knowing what to do with a crush. So relatable, much wow.

I realize this was immensely quick for me, as far as posting updates go, and I'm going to try to maintain some of that momentum as best as I can.

Thanks again to everyone following this story, despite me being me and my little foibles, and my biggest thanks to @from-aldebaran for once again being an incredible beta reader.

[vyzoi]

Took inspiration from @saesbangs they gave me the idea to make a fic where Sae treats me like Rin. Thank you for letting me do this!!

Characters are aged up!

Contains: angst, emotional hurt, stress, overworked, exhaustion, comfort, self insert

There’s an x reader version of this too

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

Sae is over doing it to me. He signs me up and makes me compete in football matches. He wants me to be the women’s world’s best striker and midfielder. This is a lot of pressure. I’m nothing like Rin and Sae. But I do have Rin’s determination but it’s not enough. Rin, where even are you? I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s killing me not seeing you everyday.

Sae walks up to me and flicks my forehead with his finger. “Ow! You know I space out, it’s part of my neurodivergence.” He picks me up and manhandles me in the process. “You don’t have time to just be sitting on the field and zoning out.” I walk away from him and I walk towards the football in the middle of the field.

Before I could kick off, the ball is already in my boyfriend’s possession. “You can have it! I don’t stand a chance against you.” I still continue to chase him down. All of a sudden something hit me. I’m running faster. “Perfect, keep going darling.” As soon as I caught up to Sae and attempted to kick the ball, I fall right on my ass. I lost balance and his strength really is like no other.

“Half-baked, it was good while it lasted. At least I made you enter a short flow state.” Flow state? No… what is he doing to me? He’s turning me into something I’m not. I curled my body up on the field. “You’re taking it well, you remind me of Rin. Let’s go again, one more round.” I can’t handle it. “I’m tired Sae, let me rest.” He still picks me up anyway.

Before I fell back down to the ground, I look up at the highest stands in the arena. Rin. He’s here I’m safe now. He rushes down to the first row. “What the hell are you doing to her!?” Sae motions for his brother to step down onto the field. He obviously rushes down but he’s not doing it for Sae. He’s rushing to aid me. “My Rin.” I collapse.

I turn my body around and I’m laying at Rin’s feet. He gently picks me up bridal style. “Stop over working her. You know damn well that she doesn’t have the body for whatever this is.” I bury my face in Rin’s chest and started crying. “I’m stressed Rin, I don’t know what’s happening to me either. That flow state terrifies me.” He shoots daggers with his eyes at Sae.

“I’m not going to let her become world’s best at anything. Whatever games you signed her up for, I’m taking them off myself. She’s not playing for good.” I couldn’t help but smile. The world’s best striker, yet still so understanding. “Sae, I want to break up with you. I don’t feel like we’re in a romantic relationship anymore. It feels like you’re manipulating and corrupting me.”

Before Sae could speak, Rin turns us around and walks away. “Just go to sleep, I got you. You’re safe, you’re so safe.” I drift off with my head against his chest. Exhaustion, stress, and overworking, It’s over, those awful things are over. Thanks to my Rin, who knows what it feels like to be pushed too far by Sae.

I wake up in Rin’s bed with a wet rag over my forehead. “Hey, stay still, don’t panic.” That was the softest tone I’ve ever heard out of Rin. “Can I be your girlfriend?” Oh, he was not missing out on this. “Yeah, you’re my girlfriend now. Don’t worry, I will never make you do something like sports.”

I sit up and I wrap my body around him like a sloth. “My Rin.” He sighs. “Yeah, yeah I’m your Rin.” My phone lights up. He grabs my phone and hands it to me, it’s Sae.

“I messed up, look, I really care about you. I just wanted you to become women’s world’s best striker and midfielder. I just thought that since you love both of us… it would be great for you to gain both titles. I’m sorry for overwhelming you.”

Rin grabs my phone out of my hand. He takes a selfie of us with me wrapped around him. He then picks me up and takes a full length mirror of us. “You’re my personal sloth now.” He kisses my forehead. He sets me down on the bed and sends the pictures to Sae. “I would delete his number, but I know how sentimental you are when it comes to both of us.”

He hands me back my phone. Sae left me on seen. I started to tear up. Rin lays me down on the bed again and takes my phone. “Just rest a little longer. I’ll take a nap with you too.”

[gtxmandy]

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“– 𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦.”

𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | warnings: skinship, kissing, not proofreading.

*Sorry if there’s any mistake, english is not my first language.

The screeching sound coming from the sole of his shoe rubbing against the floor and the drops of sweat running down Jungwon's face, soaking his gray shirt, as he continued to go over the choreography for the upcoming comeback. The pain in his joints and feet and the tiredness seemed more evident on his face every time the music restarted.

This had been the poor boy's new routine for over a month.

When the music ended, he threw himself onto the floor closing his eyes, trying to calm his breathing and his heart rate, when he heard two knocks on the door.

You and Jungwon had been dating for a while, so it was common for him to go to your apartment a few times a week after work because he missed you and missed having a place to go without the members. Don't get him wrong, he loves the members, but he also loves having a space that only he could access. When he met you, he felt like a whole new world opened up for him and him only. Everything felt so special, every feeling, every lingering touch, just because he didn’t have to share all of it with anyone, it was just the two of you in your own little world.

You two met because you used to go to the same little hidden restaurant at the same late hour. The place was always empty specially when was almost closing time, which coincidentally was the time he finished practice and you finished your classes. After many silent meals, each at a separate table, minding your own business, one day he gathered the courage and started a conversation with you, and after a while he even started sitting at the same table as you, and that’s how you became close.

After you started dating it was a tradition for you to wait for him to come back from practice just to eat together even if it’s late and even when he insisted that you should go to sleep you still wanted to have your time together, but with the group comeback right around the corner, Jungwon was looking way too tired, and even walking around weirdly because of the pain on his feet. So when he wasn’t answering your calls, and it was almost midnight you started to worry.

With two knocks on the door, you peeked inside the practice room to see your boyfriend sprawled on the floor breathing heavily. He opened his eyes and gave you a slight smile as you closed the door behind you.

"Hey" you said softly.

"Hey" he said, still smiling. "What are you doing here? It's late!" He said, sitting up slowly and reaching out his hand to pull you to sit on his lap.

"I was worried. You weren't answering my calls so I thought something happened and i also wanted to go for a little walk." You said, running your fingers through his hair, making him close his eyes and sneak his arms around your waist groaning.

"You didn't need to worry. I told you i would be home by 10." he said still with his eyes closed. “You shouldn’t be walking around at this time, baby.”

"Wonie... it's almost midnight."

"Huh?" His eyes widened. "Really?" You nodded. "Wow i really didn't notice, sorry for making you wait and worry." He mumbled, putting his head on the crook of your neck and rubbing against you like a kitten.

"It's okay. But I hope you didn’t eat anything cause i cooked for you." You kissed his hair and felt him smiling against your neck.

"No way. You didn’t burn the kitchen, right?” He laughs.

"Nope, so you better thank me later cause it wasn’t easy!" He quickly lifted his head and kissed you.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" He put his hand on your face, squeezing your lips, and gave you peck.

"Yes, about a hundred times." Your voice sounding funny because he was still squeezing you.

"Then I'll say it a thousand more." He said, giving you a loud peck, making you laugh. "Let's go home, it's already late." He helped you up, giving your butt a light slap.

“Ouch” you faked hurt.

“Stop, that didn’t even hurt.” He said gathering his things from the floor.

“Yes it did.” You pouted helping him.

“Come here then, let me slap it harder so you will stop complaining!” He started running towards you with his backpack in hands.

“NO!” You screamed while he laughed taking your hand and turning off the lights.

[isles-of-man]

Erik's arm tightened around her shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against her coat sleeve. "More than okay," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Best date, you say? Darling, leave me some room to impress you," he joked, feeling happy and filled with warmth.

The taxi weaved through evening traffic, street lights casting alternating shadows across their bodies. He nestled her closer, feeling the solid warmth of her against hid side  as he felt the  soft pressing of her hand over his shirt. Her scent—her perfume mingled with the natural musk of his skin—made him dizzy with anticipation after she has given him the treat of tasting him under the table”

He whispered into her ear. “No one's ever made me feel as good as your mouth has. Next time, I’d love to see you rather than just feel.” He chuckled, low. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you right now.” Erik pulled back, acting innocent as ever as they sat in the car. He was surprised himself with the ability to keep his composure so far. 

When they arrived at his home, Erik paid the driver while Emily waited on the sidewalk, the night air cooling her flushed cheeks but doing nothing to quench the heat building between her thighs. His hand found the small of her back as he guided her inside, up to his front and into the home with a quick turn of his key. 

“I hope that wasn’t too long of a drive. I bought this place years ago. I met you shortly after - I’ve always wanted to bring you here. There’s a study - my office, a few rooms inside and many books. I hope you’ll feel right at home” he told her, imaging her fitting in well here. 

"And, most of all- secluded. “ he teased. “I've been thinking about getting you out of that dress all night," Erik confessed as they walked inside, door closed behind them and smiling wide. 

Inside his home, Erik led her through the dimly lit living room toward the bathroom. The space was warm, full of items he had collected over the years and books scattered—cozy with colour and dark wood. He walked her up the two story home, down the hall to his bedroom and into the ensuite.

"Let me take care of you," he said, turning on the shower before returning to where she stood.With deliberate slowness, he slid her coat from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. His eyes darkened as they traveled over her body, taking in the way her dress clung to her curves.

Eric observed her dress; wet with her arousal and moved his hand to inner thighs to collect her juices on his finger and brought it to his mouth. “did you cum while you blowing me?” he asked with a raised brow.

“you taste so sweet. Better than I imagined” He commented, turning to his large shower space and turning the taps to prepare their shower together.

Steam from the shower began to fill the bathroom, fogging the mirror and enveloping them in warmth. His fingers found the zipper of her dress, tugging it down with deliberate slowness. "May I?" he asked, his voice husky with restraint.

Erik peeled the fabric from her shoulders, letting it slip down her body. The sight of her standing before him in nothing; breast milky white and pink peaked nipples he wanted to take into his mouth. "You're beautiful," he whispered, tracing the line of her collarbone with his fingertips. "Every inch of you."

Erik knelt before her, one hand steadying her hip as he removed each heel, his fingers trailed up her calves, behind her knees, along her thighs until he rose to stand towering her and kissed her slowly as he started to undress himself, tie loosened and thrown carelessly. His suit piled onto the floor and he kicked off every article before he brought them under the spray.

“Let me clean you up” his hand reaching for a soap bar, running it over her skin and washed her skin clean. He knew she wanted to shower, make love and give her the experiences she craved. He would keep that promise. He gave himself a wash; taking patience and turned to her with a peck on her lips.

“take your time, dry off - I have a camera to set up in my bedroom” he told her, kissing her again before he could finally tear himself away. “when I make love to you. you’ll have more than a memory to keep.”

emily focused on only giving him the best blow job of his life. she couldn’t care if they were surrounded by people, in a fancy restaurant. she loved giving him all her attention, all the care he deserved. she wanted more of him, he was her own dessert.

knowing that he was about to come, the woman increased her pace, her tongue rolling on his shaft as she moaned lowly. it was when he came wildly in her mouth that she took every single load of cum and swallowed it. a satisfied smile came across her face as she licked his whole cock, cleaning the mess that she completely created.

“very good, babe…” she whispered, her hand gently wiping his cock and slowly pulling it back into his boxers. discreetly closing his zipper, emily lifted lightly the tablecloth to determine when would be the best moment for her to show up.

it was when it was safe enough that she just returned to her sit, holding the fork she has pretended to lose. “there it is, i had lost that one…” she chuckled playfully as she looked at erik in the eyes, her green ones full of adoration for him.

as the waiter brought the bill, emily remained quiet as she noticed the man looking at her with a surprised expression on his face. giving him an angelic smile, the woman smiled and said: “it was delicious, thank you for the lovely meal.” the waiter nodded at her. “you’re welcome, ma’am. have a good evening.”

he smiled briefly at the both of them and slowly left. emily looked at erik and laughed gently before kissing his hand tenderly. “thank you for this beautiful date… i can’t wait to go to your place for the night.”

slowly standing up, the woman immediately put her coat on to hide the mess that her dress was. she was completely soaked and the only thing she wanted to do now was to take a hot shower with erik before letting him taste every inch of her body.

walking out of the restaurant, emily stayed close to her man, waiting for the taxi to stop and pick them up. the night was cold and she felt it between her legs. as she sight in the car, emily closed her coat, long enough to cover her long legs. she looked at erik and whispered.

“it’s quite chilly.. a nice shower before you show me your bed would be more than welcome.” she chucked as she kissed his jaw before whispering in his ear. “i hope it was okay what i did.. I couldn’t resist you…” she caressed his chest as she stayed close to him in the taxi.

once the car stopped, emily walked out and waited for erik to lead her in his house. it looks so lovely, so perfect to enjoy. the car left and emily shivered as she stood before erik before kissing his lips tenderly. “I just want you to know that I am having the best date of my life…”