#with all the grief and pain in my heart. i do have to admit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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die with a smile — geto suguru.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me." You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?" He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone." There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - apocalyptic world (zombie take over), isolation, hurt, physical touch, illness, loneliness, sadness, pain, pining, getting together, unhappy ending, character death, depictions of apocalyptic world, depiction of mourning, depiction of isolation, depiction of apprehension, depiction of romance, depiction of illness, depiction of chracter death, depiction of taking one's own life, mention of apocalytic world, mention of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of pining, mention of character death, mention of taking one's own life.;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: i wrote this a long long time ago, but i feel like now it's seeing the light of day and im just excited for you to read it. i'll be working on plans for my first ever kinktober and other ideas i have in between. i hope that you're always well and that you enjoy this!!! love you <3

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┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST NOW. The world had become a wasteland, overrun by the dead. Every day was a fight for survival, every night a battle against the darkness that crept into the mind as much as the world around.

You had been on the move for what felt like an eternity, traveling alone, scavenging for food, and fighting off the relentless hordes that had once been people. You had become a ghost in your own skin, haunted by memories of a time when the world was alive.

It was by chance that you stumbled upon the compound—a fortress of steel and stone, hidden deep within the woods, far from the crumbling cities and the walking dead. Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, you approached cautiously, knowing that desperation made even the living dangerous. The compound's walls were tall and unyielding, and it seemed impossible to breach. But desperation drives people to do reckless things, and you need safety, if only for a moment.

You had barely stepped into the clearing when you heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. You froze, heart pounding, every muscle tensing as you slowly raised your hands in surrender.

"Don’t move." The voice was low, firm, and edged with the kind of cold precision that came from years of surviving on instinct alone. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him—a tall figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, with a rifle trained directly on you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, never wavered as he took you in, calculating, deciding.

"I’m not here to cause trouble." you managed, keeping your voice steady despite the fear tightening your throat.

"That’s what they all say." His words were clipped, distrust lacing every syllable. He took a step closer, still keeping the rifle leveled at your head. "Turn around, slowly."

You did as he ordered, moving slowly, deliberately, until you were facing him fully. He was closer now, close enough that you could see the weariness etched into his features, the hardened lines of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. But there was something else, too—something in his eyes, a flicker of recognition, as if he saw a reflection of himself in you.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

"Long enough." you replied, your gaze locked with his. "Long enough to know when I’ve met someone who’s been through the same hell."

He frowned, his grip on the rifle tightening as he studied you, weighing your words against the danger you might pose. But then, slowly, the suspicion in his eyes gave way to something softer, something that looked almost like… understanding.

"What’s your name?" he asked, the question coming out more gently than you expected.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want to live." His tone was blunt, but there was a trace of something more behind it—a quiet offer, a tentative step toward trust.

You swallowed the weight of the past weeks, months, pressing down on you. "I’m just trying to survive."

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "So am I." He let out a slow breath, lowering the rifle slightly but not entirely. "Suguru. Geto Suguru."

You didn’t dare move, watching him carefully as he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re lucky I found you before the dead did."

"Maybe." you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Or maybe you’re the lucky one."

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." Then, after a long pause, he sighed, finally lowering the rifle completely. "Come with me. But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate."

You nodded, relief washing over you despite the lingering tension. "I won’t."

As he turned and motioned for you to follow, you could sense the caution in every step he took, the way he moved with the fluid grace of someone always prepared for the worst. And yet, there was something else—a strange comfort in the fact that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone.

He took you in, but it was clear that trust was not something he gave easily. The compound was his sanctuary, built with his own hands, and he guarded it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The first few days were tense; you were wary of each other, moving around each other like predators unsure of whether to fight or flee. He was quiet, watchful, and kept his emotions locked away behind a wall of suspicion.

But you were no stranger to walls, and slowly, brick by brick, the two of you began to dismantle them. It started with the small things—shared meals, the exchange of supplies, moments of silence that were less about fear and more about understanding. You discovered that beneath his tough exterior, Suguru had a passion for music. In the evenings, when the world outside grew too dark to bear, he would pull out an old guitar, his fingers strumming out melodies that spoke of a time before the end.

You, too, had your own love for music, and in those quiet moments, the two of you found a connection. The songs you shared became a language of their own, one that spoke of loss, hope, and the fragile bond forming between you. Music was your refuge, a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even if it was buried beneath layers of fear and grief.

The days began to blur together, a steady rhythm of routine and survival. Each morning, you would wake to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains of the compound, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the walls that separated you from the chaos beyond. The danger was always there, lurking just beyond the gates, but within the safety of Suguru’s compound, life had found a different pace.

At first, your interactions with Suguru were brief and cautious, a necessary coexistence born out of mutual need. But as the days turned into weeks, the initial wariness between you began to fade, replaced by a tentative friendship. The man who had once held a gun to your head now greeted you each morning with a nod and a hint of a smile, a gesture that brought a surprising warmth to your otherwise cold and uncertain world. His presence, once a source of tension, had become something you looked forward to, a strange sense of peace in the midst of madness.

One of the few luxuries you both shared was a love of food—a small pleasure in a world where every meal had become a fight against starvation. In this new reality, the art of cooking had taken on a different meaning. It was no longer about indulging in flavors or crafting elaborate dishes, but rather about survival, about making the most of what little you could find. And yet, even in this, there was comfort.

Together, you would scour the surrounding areas for supplies, salvaging whatever you could from the abandoned homes and overgrown gardens. It was a slow, careful process—one wrong move could attract unwanted attention, and resources were scarce. But the shared task brought a sense of camaraderie, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face this alone.

In the evenings, when the world outside grew dark and foreboding, you would gather in the small kitchen, working together to prepare your meals. The ingredients were humble—canned goods, dried beans, the occasional fresh vegetable from a patch of land Suguru had managed to cultivate—but it didn’t matter. The act of cooking became a ritual, something that grounded you both, reminding you that life was more than just surviving day to day.

Suguru was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, his movements efficient and precise as he chopped vegetables or stirred a pot over the fire. He had a way of turning the simplest ingredients into something comforting, something that made the compound feel more like a home. You would watch him sometimes, marveling at the way he found solace in such a small task, and slowly, you began to join him, contributing your own skills to the process.

"How did you learn to cook like this?" you asked one evening as you worked side by side, your hands busy preparing a stew from the last of the potatoes you had found.

Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Necessity, mostly. My parents weren’t around much, so I had to fend for myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at making something out of nothing."

You nodded, stirring the pot as the aroma of the stew began to fill the room. "It’s a useful skill, especially now."

"Yeah, I suppose." he agreed, his tone softer now. "It’s one of the few things that still feels normal."

The meals you shared became more than just a way to stave off hunger—they were moments of connection, brief respites from the harshness of the world outside. As you ate together, you found yourselves talking more, sharing stories of the lives you had left behind, the people you had lost, and the hopes you still held on to, however fragile they might be. These conversations, once stilted and brief, grew longer, more personal, as the walls between you crumbled bit by bit.

Each meal was a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, you were still alive, still human. The warmth of the food, the sound of your voices filling the silence, and the flicker of the firelight against the walls—all of it made the world outside seem a little less bleak. And in those moments, you realized that within the confines of the compound, you had found something precious: a sense of normalcy, a connection with another person that transcended the mere act of survival.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, you both sat by the fire in the small living area. Suguru was strumming his guitar, the soft melody filling the space between you. The sound of the music was soothing, a rare comfort in the chaos that surrounded you. You found yourself watching him, the way his fingers moved deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’d you learn to play like that?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Suguru glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up a long time ago. It helped… before all this." He gestured vaguely to the world outside, the unspoken horrors hanging heavy in the air.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing more words. "I used to play too, back when things were different." The memories were bittersweet, but they didn’t hurt as much as they used to, not here, not with him.

Suguru looked at you with a hint of curiosity. "What did you play?"

"Mostly piano. But I messed around with the guitar a bit too." You shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was a lingering sadness in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

"Maybe you should give it a try again." he said, holding out the guitar to you.

You hesitated, your fingers itching to touch the instrument but also afraid of what it might bring up. Suguru noticed your hesitation and added softly. "It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… maybe it would help."

His words, spoken with such gentle understanding, made something inside you soften. You took the guitar from him, your fingers awkwardly finding the chords, the muscle memory slowly returning. The notes came out shaky at first, but as you continued, the music began to flow more naturally, filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Suguru watched you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. "You’re good." he said quietly, and for a moment, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, like a bad dream you could wake up from.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile that felt strange on your face after so long. "Thanks. It’s been a while."

He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his gaze still on you. "It’s nice, having someone to share this with." His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You met his eyes, something unspoken passing between you. "Yeah, it is."

With each passing day, the bond between you and Suguru grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and growing intimacy. The days, once filled with routine and duty, now held a deeper meaning. You found yourself eagerly anticipating his presence, whether it was during the long, often monotonous hours patrolling the perimeter or in the quieter, more serene moments spent together in the kitchen.

During these patrols, the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable but rather a comfortable companion. You’d exchange glances and smiles, the unspoken understanding adding warmth to the cool, night air. These simple interactions became a cherished part of your day, a reminder that even in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, there were small, precious joys to be found.

Cooking together was a ritual that both of you cherished. Every meal you prepared was more than just sustenance; it was a shared experience, a small victory over the harsh realities of the world outside. Suguru, with his surprisingly deft culinary skills, brought an element of surprise and delight to these moments. His laughter would fill the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of whatever you were preparing, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

These cooking sessions were more than just about the food. They were about the small, tender moments that punctuated your days—Suguru's playful teasing as you fumbled with ingredients, the quiet, shared satisfaction of a well-made meal, and the deep conversations that flowed as easily as the spices you mixed. Each meal was a testament to the connection you were nurturing, a symbol of your growing closeness.

In these shared moments, whether in the midst of patrols or while cooking, you found solace and joy. The simple act of preparing food together became a grounding ritual, reminding you both of the warmth and safety you had found in each other’s company. Through the laughter, the shared tasks, and the quiet companionship, your relationship deepened, finding strength in the everyday moments that brought you closer together.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?"

He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone."

There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We’ve both lost so much, you know?" he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we can find something here. Something worth holding on to."

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting. "Suguru…" you began, but the words caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to say anything." he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took you by surprise. "Just… stay with me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the world outside seemed to fade away. "I’m not going anywhere, Suguru." you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as Suguru’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you knew that despite everything you had lost, you had found something here—something real, something worth fighting for. The world outside was still a nightmare, but in his embrace, you felt safe. You felt… home.

The fire crackled softly and the scent of a simple stew filled the air, you sat together in the small kitchen. Suguru’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a bowl, the brief contact sending a jolt through you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no fear, no death—only the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

You reached out, your fingers gently grazing him, and this time, he didn’t pull away. The kiss that followed was soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of a new reality. It wasn’t born out of desperation or fear but something genuine, something that had been building between you since the day you met. In that moment, you realized that amidst the ruins of the world, you had found something worth fighting for—each other.

Suguru was still the survivalist, still cautious, still guarded. But with you, he was different. He let you in, allowed you to see the man behind the walls, the one who had survived not just the apocalypse, but the loneliness that came with it. And in return, you gave him the one thing he had lost faith in—hope.

In the silence of survival, you and Suguru found a new life, not just as survivors, but as something more. The world outside was still a nightmare, but within the walls of the compound, there was music, there was food, and there was love. And that was enough.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

THE WORLD CHANGED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. The years passed, and in the midst of the crumbling world, you and Suguru had found a fragile but undeniable happiness together.

Despite the constant fight for survival, the fear, and the uncertainty, you had managed to carve out a life within the walls of his compound—a life filled with small moments of peace, warmth, and a deep bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The two of you had become each other's anchor, weathering the storms of the world outside and the storms within yourselves. There were still fights, of course—heated arguments born out of the stress and the pain that never quite left—but they always ended the same way: with apologies, with understanding, with the reassurance that no matter how much the world tried to tear you apart, you would find your way back to each other.

You wanted to stay together, no matter what. The future was uncertain, but you had each other, and that was enough.

Or at least, it had been. Until the day you found out.

The sickness began as a dull ache, a persistent discomfort that you initially attributed to the everyday strains of fatigue or stress. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was just a part of the routine hardships you faced. But the pain didn’t relent. Instead, it began to spread, a creeping malice that invaded your very bones, draining your energy and will.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache evolved into a relentless torment. Tasks that once seemed trivial became monumental efforts, and the weight of the pain became increasingly unbearable.

It was as if every step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of the encroaching shadow that threatened to envelop you. Eventually, the denial you clung to was no longer tenable. The truth, harsh and unyielding, crashed down upon you with the force of a relentless storm.

The diagnosis was a devastating blow—terminal, with no hope for a cure. It felt as if your world had crumbled, leaving you in a hollow space where hope once resided. The words of the doctor reverberated in your mind, each syllable a brutal reminder of your fate.

You struggled to process the enormity of what was unfolding before you, your mind overwhelmed by the realization that the future you had envisioned with Suguru was slipping through your grasp.

The dreams you had nurtured—of a shared life, of enduring together through the hardships of this cruel world—were now tainted by the bitter reality of your diagnosis. The vision of growing old side by side, of finding solace in each other amidst the chaos, seemed like nothing more than fragile, shattered illusions. The life you had carefully built, the hope you had cherished, were being torn away by a fate you could not escape.

Each day became a battle, not just against the encroaching illness but against the crushing weight of despair. The future that had once seemed so vibrant and full of promise now appeared as a distant, unreachable horizon. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the time you had left was no longer measured in hopes and dreams, but in the stark reality of counting down to an inevitable end.

In this bleak landscape, the love you had with Suguru became both a source of immense comfort and profound sorrow. It was a bittersweet reminder of what you were losing and what you still cherished.

And as you faced the unbearable truth, you clung to the moments of shared love and companionship, knowing that while the future was uncertain and fleeting, the bond you had forged with Suguru was a source of strength in your darkest hours.

Telling Suguru was the hardest thing you had ever done. When the moment came to share the news, you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Each word felt like it was tearing apart the fragile fabric of hope that had been woven between you. You struggled to find the right words, but the gravity of the situation rendered you almost speechless. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you uttered the truth.

As you spoke, you could see the light in Suguru's eyes dim, his once-vibrant gaze becoming clouded with an overwhelming sense of despair. It was as if your words were a heavy fog rolling in, obscuring the clarity and warmth that had once defined his expression. The impact was immediate and devastating. The hope and dreams you had shared seemed to drain from him, leaving a hollow, heart-wrenching emptiness in their wake.

Suguru’s reaction was one of stunned silence. He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze was fixed on you, but it was distant, almost as if he were looking through you rather than at you. His expression was frozen, a complex mix of disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. It was as though the words you had spoken were so unfathomable that he struggled to process their meaning, as if accepting them was too great a burden for his heart to bear.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and emotions. You could see him grappling with the reality of what you had just revealed, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of your situation. The anguish etched on his face was a mirror to your own, reflecting the profound sense of loss and heartbreak that had suddenly become your shared reality.

"No." he finally whispered, his voice cracking. "No, this can’t be happening."

You reached out, your hand trembling as you took his, squeezing it tightly. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I wish there was something we could do, but—"

"But there has to be." he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening almost to the point of pain. "There has to be something. We’ve survived so much… we can find a way through this too."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I wish that were true. But this… this is different. There’s no fighting this."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. His breath was ragged against your hair, and you felt the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his tears.

"We were supposed to be together, baby." he choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We were supposed to make it."

"I know, I know." you whispered, your own tears spilling over. "I wanted that too. I still do. But…"

"But what?" he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes desperate. "We can’t just give up."

"I’m not giving up, Suguru." you said, your voice trembling with the effort to stay strong. "But we have to face the truth. This is happening, and we can’t stop it."

The devastation in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you saw the way he struggled to keep himself together, to be strong for you even as his world fell apart. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

"We keep going." you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. "We make the most of the time we have left. We keep fighting, but… we don’t fight each other. We spend every moment we can together, and we make them count."

He nodded, though the movement was slow, reluctant, as if he still couldn’t quite accept what you were saying. "I don’t want to lose you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose you."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "You won’t lose me, Suguru. Not really. I’ll always be with you, even if… even if I’m not here."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled you close again, his grip almost desperate. "I love you. I love you more than anything in this world." he whispered, the words heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love. My Suguru." you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. "I always will."

And so, in the midst of the overwhelming sorrow, you held each other, finding solace in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside still raged on, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was all that mattered. You would face the darkness together, hand in hand, and whatever time you had left, you would make it count.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

BY THE TIME SPRING CAME, EVERYTHING UNRAVELED. The sickness had steadily worsened, each day stealing more of your strength and vitality, chipping away at the life you had fought so hard to hold onto. The once-manageable discomfort had evolved into a constant, gnawing ache, a relentless companion that shadowed your every move.

The pain was unyielding, a dull throb that seemed to seep into every corner of your existence. Alongside it came a profound exhaustion, a weariness so deep it felt as if you were weighed down by a leaden blanket, sapping your energy and spirit.

As the days passed, you became acutely aware that your time was running out. The inevitable reality of your condition loomed ever closer, and the thought of leaving Suguru behind was almost unbearable.

The idea of him witnessing your slow decline, of watching you waste away, was a source of deep, unrelenting sorrow. It was a burden that neither of you should have to endure, and the thought of him bearing witness to such suffering made the situation all the more poignant.

One evening, as you sat together in the small, dimly lit living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth provided a stark contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The flickering light danced across the room, casting warm, gentle shadows, but it did little to ease the weight of the decision that loomed over you. You glanced at Suguru, his presence both a source of comfort and a reminder of the pain you were about to inflict.

The warmth of the fire seemed to mock the cold reality you faced. Each crackle of the flames was a stark reminder of the life that was slipping away from you, a life that you had shared so intimately with Suguru. The room, once a sanctuary of shared joy and quiet moments, now felt suffused with a profound sadness. You could see the concern and love etched into Suguru’s face, and it made your heart ache even more.

You knew that making this decision was necessary, even though it would hurt him deeply. The thought of continuing in your current state—becoming a burden rather than a partner, an encumbrance rather than a companion—was untenable. The inevitable end was approaching, and you could no longer ignore the fact that your suffering was taking a toll on both of you.

As you faced Suguru, your heart felt like it was shattering with the weight of your decision. You had chosen to speak the truth, to acknowledge the unbearable reality of your situation. It was a choice made out of love and respect, even though it meant confronting the deep, painful truth of your own mortality and the heartache it would cause Suguru.

In those quiet moments by the fire, the decision was clear, but the pain of it was profound. The love you had for Suguru and the desire to protect him from further suffering guided your choice, even as it tore at your own heart. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the chill of the reality you faced, a reminder of the fleeting nature of the life and love you both had cherished.

"Suguru, my love." you began, your voice weak but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He turned to you, concern etched in his features. "What is it? Do you need something? More water? Some painkillers?" He was always trying to do something, anything, to ease your suffering, even when there was little that could be done.

You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. "No, it’s not that. It’s… I want you to help me end it. When the time comes, I don’t want to… I don’t want to linger."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Suguru just stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening as he shook his head violently.

"No, baby." he said, his voice firm and almost angry. "No, I’m not doing that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find something—there’s got to be something out there that can help. We’ll go out tomorrow, search the surrounding towns. There has to be something… anything…"

"Suguru, my love. Please. Understand me." you interrupted gently, your heart breaking at the desperation in his voice. "We’ve tried. We’ve been searching for months, and nothing has changed. You know it as well as I do—there’s nothing left to find."

"I can’t!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I can’t lose you like this! We’ve survived so much together. We can get through this too. I’ll find a way, I swear."

You reached out again, this time cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Suguru, my love." you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I’m dying. We both know it. Please… don’t make this harder than it already is."

He broke then, his shoulders shaking as he crumbled before you. "I can’t live without you, baby." he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "You’re all I have left. If you go… if you leave me… I don’t know what I’ll do."

"You’ll keep going. You must." you said softly, your own tears spilling over. "You’re strong, Suguru. You’ve always been strong. You’ll find a way to survive, even without me."

He shook his head, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. "I don’t want to survive without you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not there."

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as he cried against your shoulder, his grief tearing through him like a storm. "I know. I know that." you whispered, your own heart shattering with every sob that wracked his body. "I know it’s hard. But you have to promise me you’ll try. Promise me you’ll keep going, for both of us."

He clung to you, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together. "I don’t know if I can." he admitted, his voice small and broken. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

"You can, my love." you insisted, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You’re stronger than you think, Suguru. You’ve already done so much. But before I go… There's something I want to do. Something that will give meaning to all of this."

He frowned, confusion flickering in his tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to say the words. "I want to marry you, my love." you said, your voice trembling. "I want to be your wife, even if it’s just for a little while. I want to give meaning to this life, to what we’ve been through together. Please… let’s do this, Suguru. Let’s make it real."

He stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as if trying to process the gravity of what you had just said. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and raw emotions. You held your breath, the weight of his potential rejection pressing down on you. The thought that he might find the idea too painful to accept was almost unbearable, adding to the already intense sorrow that filled the room.

But then, as if struggling to come to terms with the inevitable, he began to nod slowly. The initial shock in his eyes gave way to a profound sadness, and his expression softened, becoming a mixture of resignation and tender understanding. The lines of his face, once tense with disbelief, relaxed as he reached out to you.

With gentle, deliberate movements, he cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation, a soothing balm against the sharp edges of your sorrow. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady in their tenderness, conveying a depth of love and acceptance that words alone could not express.

As he held you, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for reassurance and finding it in the depths of your shared experiences and unspoken bond. The moment was both heart-wrenching and profoundly intimate, a testament to the strength of your connection and the pain of facing such a difficult decision together.

"Okay, baby." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll marry you. We’ll do it right here, right now."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, a small, trembling smile breaking through the sorrow. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice cracking. "Thank you, Suguru."

He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you both cried, the weight of what was to come hanging heavy over you. But in that moment, you were together, and that was all that mattered. You would marry him, give meaning to your lives, and in the time you had left, you would make every moment count.

Even as the darkness closed in, you knew that you had found something beautiful in the midst of the horror—a love that would last beyond the end, a bond that would never truly be broken.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SUCH A NICE DAY FOR A WEDDING. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as you and Suguru prepared for the day that would be both your wedding and your farewell. It was a day you had both dreaded and longed for, a day that would bring a bittersweet end to the journey you had shared together.

Suguru had spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, determined to make this day as special as he could. He cooked you the best meals he could manage with the limited supplies you had, pouring his heart into every dish.

The aroma of roasted vegetables, tender meat, and freshly baked bread filled the small compound, a testament to the love and care he had poured into every bite. He even brought out the best wine he had been saving in the cellar—a bottle that had survived the apocalypse, waiting for a moment just like this.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found you dressed in your best—an old dress you had found while scavenging, simple but elegant, its soft fabric hugging your frail form. Suguru had dressed in his finest as well, his dark shirt and trousers clean and pressed, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him took your breath away, and you smiled, despite the sorrow that weighed on your heart.

"You look beautiful, baby." he whispered as he approached, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you look handsome, my love." you replied, your voice trembling as you reached out to straighten his collar.

The two of you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other, committing it to memory. Then, with a deep breath, you took his hand, and together you made your way to the small living room, where the morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. There were no guests, no officiant, no flowers or rings. It was just the two of you, standing together in the light, your hands clasped tightly as you exchange your vows.

"I, Suguru, take you, my love, to be my wife." he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "In this life, and whatever comes after, I promise to love you, to hold you close, to cherish every moment we have together. No matter what happens, you will always be my heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the words, your voice trembling. "I, take you, Suguru, to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be by your side, to find joy in the little things, even in this broken world. You’ve given me a reason to keep going, and I will carry that with me, always."

With that, you both leaned in, sealing your vows with a gentle kiss, a promise made under the watchful eye of the morning sun. When you pulled back, there were tears in both your eyes, but there were also smiles—small, fragile smiles that spoke of a love that had endured the darkest of times.

The day passed in a blur of quiet joy and melancholy. Suguru insisted on dancing, and you found yourselves swaying together to the soft, nostalgic notes of Vera Lynn’s "We’ll Meet Again," playing from an old record player Suguru had somehow managed to keep running.

The song filled the room with its haunting melody, a promise of reunion in a world beyond this one. You held each other close, moving slowly, savoring every second, every touch, as if by doing so, you could make time stop.

As night fell, the reality of what was to come settled over you both. There was no turning back now, no more delaying the inevitable. You returned to the bedroom, where the bed had been carefully made, its soft blankets a welcome comfort against the cold that had settled into your bones. You climbed into bed, and Suguru followed, sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on yours.

You turned to look at him, your heart aching with the knowledge that these were your final moments together. "Suguru, my love." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to live. Even after I’m gone, I want you to find a way to keep going. Please… promise me you’ll try."

His grip on your hand tightened, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What sort of life is that without you?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re everything to me. I don’t know how to keep going if you’re not here."

"You’re stronger than you think, my love." you whispered, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "You’ve always been strong, Suguru. You’ve saved me so many times… now, you need to save yourself. Please… for me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. "I don’t want to let you go, baby." he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how."

"You don’t have to let me go, my love." you replied, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’ll always be with you. In every memory, every moment we shared. You’ll carry me with you, no matter what."

He nodded, though it was clear the idea of life without you was unbearable. "I love you, baby." he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." you whispered back, your voice trembling. "Now… let’s make this last moment count."

With that, he leaned in, kissing you gently, as if trying to pour all the love he had for you into that one moment. You kissed him back, holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm you had come to know and love, a sound you would carry with you into the dark.

When the kiss ended, you settled back against the pillows, the familiar softness providing a modicum of comfort in the midst of your pain. Suguru lay beside you, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep, abiding love. Together, you both faced the uncertain future, finding solace in each other's presence as the night stretched on.

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, a gentle rhythm that seemed to anchor you both in the present moment. Despite the gravity of what lay ahead, you felt an unexpected sense of peace settle over you. In those final moments, the relentless tide of fear and pain receded, leaving only the pure, unadulterated essence of love.

There was no longer any room for fear or anguish—only the profound understanding that you had found something truly beautiful amidst the horror. You had loved deeply, and you had been loved in return. That realization, though bittersweet, provided a profound sense of fulfillment. It was a reminder that, even in the face of the inevitable, the love you shared had given meaning to your time together.

As the night deepened, you clung to each other, savoring the last precious moments of closeness. Suguru’s presence was a comforting embrace, a final refuge before you slipped away. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the cocoon of your shared love.

When the end finally came, Suguru was left with a heartache so profound it felt almost unbearable. He gazed at your lifeless body, the weight of your absence crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down his face, each drop an echo to the depth of his grief. He struggled with the harsh reality of living without you, the very thought of continuing without you seemed inconceivable.

In a final, tender gesture, he brushed the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in a gentle caress. A faint smile touched his lips, though it was laced with sorrow.

“I’m following you soon, my love. Forgive me.” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He lets out a smile against the tears.

He takes a look at the drink you drank, laced with laudenum and whiskey. A last hurrah took you away. And he wants that too. He wants to be with you. He stands up to take it and tells himself that it would be okay. Soon, you'll be together again. He gives himself visions of paradise, where you aren't sick anymore. A paradise where you could enjoy life together.

He smiles again, wiping his tears with his free hand and drank the same drink. He puts away the glass and lays down beside you. Everything was going to handle itself somehow, he knew that well enough.

His left hand lingers against the tips of your hair, brushing them as he would have when you were alive. He would be doing that for eternity in the afterlife. Like he always wanted.

For the last moments of Geto Suguru's life, he catches a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring and yours. As though the light leading him to the other side. He closes his purple eyes slowly for the final time and feels everything be in its place for the first time in a long time.

Years later, when survivors find your bodies lingering in the eternal warmth only both you could provide, they read words on a small card on a coffee table.

"Leave us be on the graveyards we chose. Let us live eternity like this together."

And they do. They leave you be. Because the smile on your faces was enough to know this was where you belonged. Together.

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propheticbride · 4 months ago

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Lamb to Slaughter Ⅳ

𐙚 Aegon and Aemond's personal war over you escalates as the truth of Aegon's crowning becomes true to you.

𐙚 Aegon x Reader/Aemond x Reader (tw: incest mention)

(AN- remember when I said lamb is gonna start getting her own personality... ☝🏻)

“I feel sad about Jaehaerys.” Helaena mumbles. You hand her back the small boy’s toy. A wooden dragon styled after Dreamfyre, Helaena’s personal mount. “Mm, but I ought not to, I think. People die all the time, especially babes.”

You nod, “They’re so little, so they’re taken so easily.”

She glances at you as you respond. “Sadness is a condition of motherhood, or so mother thinks. When you were born, she cried so much holding you.” Helaena speaks in a pained tone. “She could not care for us much when you were brought into the world. She loved you so.”

“There’s naught to be gained from it.” you shake your head.

Helaena does a rare thing, she reaches for you, and holds eye contact. “That horrid procession where the smallfolk all stared at me. I warrant they thought I had no more right to grief than they do. Surely they lose their babes more than highborn ladies.”

“No.” you shake your head and take a deep breath, holding her hands back. “The Stranger comes for us all…queen and commoner alike. You have as much claim to grief as anyone.”

“And you?” she asks.

“I loved Jaehaerys, but my concern has been for you. It broke my heart to hear what they put you through.” you insist. “Helaena, I…”

“I forgive you.” she breaks the physical contact and walks away, quickly glancing back at you.

“What?”

“I said that I forgive you.” she nods, a faint smile on her face.

“For what?”

“Sleeping with Aegon.” she spits out. She looks dazed for a brief moment, almost like she cannot fathom the words she had just spoken.

“Helaena…I haven't-”

“Mother told me. Weeks ago. After Jaehaerys was murdered…I heard Aegon had taken someone new to bed, but I did not imagine it would be you.” Helaena saw things, you knew it, but even she couldn't have seen this coming.

“I don't know what to say.” you admit.

“Do you feel sorry?” she asks.

“No.” you shake your head. “Helaena, his heir was murdered, and unless you are able to provide another, there is not much to secure your place beside him.”

The words simply bleed out, you’re not sure if you mean them or not. So much is happening so quickly and you cannot deny it. You have become Aegon’s lover, and he wasn't shy about finishing inside you. So where did Helaena fit into all of this?

“That was mean.” she grimaces.

“I am sorry, but I only speak the truth.”

✮⋆˙

“Drinks for all! At the pleasure of the crown!”

The entire brothel roared for Aegon, his little men following close behind.

“Woo! At the pleasure of the crown!” someone shouted.

“Sit down. Sit yourself down.” Aegon demands Ser Martyn’s squire. “Drink the wine, boy. Drink it now!”

“So what did your little queen say when you told her where you were going tonight?” Martyn sips his alcohol.

“She does not know?” Leon Estermont asks after watching Aegon’s smile spread into a wide grin.

“Why would I tell her where I am going…she does not tell me when she fucks my brother.” Aegon laughs.

“She's sharing both of your beds?” Martyn questions, a little confused on the way the Targaryens work.

“Oh I let her have her fun, she can not be glued to my cock forever can she. If she wishes to use that hound as a toy, why should I complain?” Aegon tries to convince himself that jealousy isn't there. That Aemond doesn't stare him down in the counsels or the halls when they pass. Oh well.

“Did I, did I tell you I came here as a lad?” Aegon asks the squire again. “It’s, mm, a little tame, but a good a place as any to get it wet. I know just the tutor for you, my boy.”

“Is it your toy?” Leon jokes.

The joke stabs at Aegon, but he simply laughs it off. “The blood of the dragon is not for…lesser men.”

His knights burst out into laughter as Aegon grabs the young squire and begins dragging him around room to room.

“She’s worth three times the price.” Aegon states cheerfully. “Her name is, uh, Sylvi. Or Selyse or, I don’t know, something like that.”

Aegon violently pulls apart two curtains, the white hair of the man looks familiar and follows Sylvi immediately lying up.

“Your grace.” she says.

Aemond shoots up and turns around, color leaving his face.

“Aemond, the fierce!” Aegon giggles out, he is the only one. “You have come so far, and, and yet you still lie with your very first.”

Aemond lays his arms on his knees, keeping his gaze strictly to the bed. He's embarrassed. More embarrassed then when he found out you had taken to Aegon’s bed following your first night together.

“Did you fuck her like a hound?” Aegon asks, following barking like a dog at his brother.

Both the knights and Sylvi were quiet, only glaring at Aegon and softly glancing at Aemond’s huddled form.

“Does she know you spend your time here? Oh do you think she'd fuck you again if she knew you spent time with your whore?”

“Again?” Aemond questions.

“Oh save it brother, I am well aware you have touched our little lamb, but that does not matter I do not care.” Aegon assures him. “But do you think she would share your bed if she knew where you spent your time? Do you think she would have even entered mine, if you had just stayed in hers?”

“This isn't about-”

“Oh yes it is you stupid dog.” Aegon laughs. “Why is it that you give me looks, and that you cannot make eye contact with me. You do not attend dinners anymore, nor does the lamb see you often. Of course it is about her. Would you even be with this whore if it weren't for your feelings of our lamb?”

“Our lamb?” Aemond is angry now.

“Yes, our lamb.” Aegon laughs. “You see, I do not exaggerate. Such is the madam’s prowess, that even now my brother will not sample another. Even my little sister is left bedded alone. Hard luck for your squire, though! As you can see, she…she’s now very much occupied.”

Aemond stands, his body in full view. “Your squire is welcome to her.”

Aegon glances up at him.

“One whore is as good as another.” Aemond steps off the bed and disappears into the brothel.

✮⋆˙

“Fuck.” Alicent breathes. “Fuck!”

“Mother?” you enter her chambers.

She looks disheveled, as she's tearing apart her private room.

“Rhaenyra’s dragons are restless. They smell battle.” Alicent cries. “Perhaps we will all die and none of this will matter anyways.”

“Mother?”

“Rhaenyra. Aegon. Fuck.” she immediately plants herself in the cushioned seat, her head in her hands.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Where is Aegon?” Alicent looks up.

“Out, he said he was partying with his squires.” you reply.

“And where is this partying taking place?”

“I do not know.” you admit. “Aemond is gone as well.”

“Helaena?”

“Asleep. You told her that Aegon has taken me to bed. Am I not your baby no longer?” you sound hurt.

“My love-”

You sheethe away from her touch. A pout splays across her face, she looks hurt that for the first time, you have denied her affection.

“You said you loved me but you immediately ran to my sister to tell her of my doings! You knew that and in confidence perhaps you have betrayed me.” you shake your head. Who could you trust?

“You do not-”

“I will tell Aegon.” you say.

“You cannot.” your mother shakes her head, protesting.

“Yes I can. I have his ear. And I have his bed. Those are two positions of power you are not granted.” you remind her. “As Queen you were powerful perhaps. But now you are the King’s mother. There is not much power there I’m afraid.”

“I saw Rhaenyra.” she admits.

You look at her, as if she was a stranger. “You’ve done what?”

“My love-”

“Do you betray him at the very last? Aegon is your son, meeting with the enemy could be considered-”

“Treason, I am aware. She was dressed as a septa, she snuck into the sept-”

“And you did not scream for the guards? Are you without a voice?” you demand. “Are you?”

Tears swell in Alicent’s eyes. “I have made a grave mistake.”

“What mistake do you speak of?”

“Your father did not change his mind.” Alicent spoke codly. “He did not want Aegon as king-”

“Be quiet.” you say.

“But-”

“Stop!” you shake your head. “You have committed treason at the highest of offenses. Meeting with the enemy, and now you speak that Aegon is not the true king?”

“The Prince That Was Promised.” Alicent whispered.

“What?”

“He…spoke of the Song of Ice and Fire. This prophecy with Aegon the Conqueror.” Alicent nods to you, watching you take in all of the information.

“There’s been a mistake?” you ask.

“There’s been no mistake.” Alicent speaks coldly. “A terrible war is looming, and even victory may be so bloody as to be counted a loss. Cole is on the march, and Aemond…he is a monster and even you know this. You will continue to occupy Aegon’s bed, make him happy and perhaps maybe you will keep his ear. It will be needed in this brutal war to come.” Alicent kisses your forehead. “I wish for us to stay on the same side, our desires and beliefs as one. It was wrong for me to go to Helaena, you are my baby still. I hope you can forgive my transgressions, and keep this between us. If your brother found out.-”

“You mean when my brother finds out?” you pull from her hold.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen #otto hightower #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #slowly catching uppppp #hotd smut #criston cole #helaena targaryen

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xyfanficarchive · 1 month ago

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here, have some incredibly personal laios x reader hurt/comfort, written as therapy in the form of reader insert bcos i was sad today, might be a bit ooc idk man :)

————————————

“You know, I actually love when you ask me for things, when you tell me you’re feeling down, or if I’ve upset you.”

You raised your red-rimmed, apprehensive gaze to meet Laios’ eyes, clear and completely earnest as he smiled at you. Weakly, you tried to return the expression. It didn’t feel very convincing.

“It makes me feel like you love me and trust me. That you trust me enough to be honest - that you trust me to comfort you, to do better by you, that you believe in me and my ability to meet your needs, that you believe I can be there for you in a way that makes you happy,” he elaborated, reaching his hands out and taking yours. “I feel valued.”

You flitted from golden eye to golden eye, searching his expression desperately for any inconsistency, any unfinished edge, any loose thread that would unravel his perfect honesty and found none. Your frail smile faltered. He was like the life-giving sun, but you felt as though you were in the desert being beat down by his radiance. You wanted to shrink away, and your shoulders hunched. Oh that sentiment was so nice, and certainly he meant it. But that just meant it would hurt exponentially more when he was done with you, when he finally realized-

“What’s going on? What are you thinking?” He stooped his head closer to yours, and tears welled up in your eyes, your lips parted in a wince as you shook your head. Laios’ brow furrowed. “No, something’s wrong. This is what I mean: I want to help you, you want me to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me what’s going on! So please just tell me what you’re thinking!” The urgency in his voice struck you like an arrow through the heart.

It wasn’t like you could be much more humiliated than you already were. It felt like it was already over, it was going to blow to pieces either way. Your thoughts felt slippery as you gathered them as best you could, your vision starting to blur. You turned your gaze downwards, you couldn’t even look Laios in the eye as you drew a shaky breath in.

“You say that, but,” your voice was quiet, “you don’t understand - we’ll both regret it when you realize…” The words caught, you couldn’t say it.

“When I realize what?” He insisted.

The few seconds of silence felt like an hour. Then, quiet as a whisper, you admitted, with much difficulty: “My needs… my feelings… I’m really hard to deal with… I'm too much... You’ll realize I’m a huge fucking burden, and then you won’t want me anymore!!” You sobbed, and before the tears could fall you covered your face with your hands and hung your head, feeling two inches tall, feeling so deeply embarrassed and ashamed to the core of your being. You wished you could just disappear.

"You think I don't already know you're a burden?"

The words shocked and pained you so deeply you stopped crying, eyes shot up in gape-mouthed, grief stricken disbelief as you recoiled. He was fast with it. All these years, nobody had ever affirmed your belief so directly, nobody had ever stated it so plainly. You'd heard many empty platitudes that were hard to believe, precisely because in the end they had always proved you right - whatever you needed the most, whenever you needed it the most, you were always left in the dust, alone and despairing, and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for your blind hope.

You saw his face change - he cringed, looking extremely pained, and with panic started to explain: "D-Don't get me wrong! Agh..." For a moment he held his brow in his palm, then took a deep breath, composing himself before he continued. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"Everyone's a burden, aren't they? Just thinking of my friends - Marcille is really picky and particular. Chilchuck is way too proud and secretive, and he drinks a lot. Falin is my little sister, so I have to be there for her, look out for her. And Senshi... Well, Senshi seems to have a lot figured out already." He paused, and broke eye contact for a moment to look at the floor. "And we all know how I am..." His tone was incredibly loaded, and your heart broke because he was the brightest and most vibrant being you had ever met, having faced a lifetime of hardship and betrayal and still coming out the other side so true to himself.

He leaned in closer to your face. "The point is, though, they all have needs - and they know how to ask for help when they need it! You only ask for help when it becomes an emergency. If even then." His expression softened. "I know you have lots of needs. I know because I've worked really hard to meet them, without embarrassing or scaring you by asking. And it meant a lot of thinking, constant planning, lying awake at night wondering, asking everyone for advice... It's tiring work." He went down the list and you broke his gaze, looking downwards. You felt low, ashamed at all the trouble you've caused him, all because you tried to be no trouble at all. What a right mess you've made.

"Hey, look at me," his hand came up, fingers resting so gently on your jaw, and your watery eyes obliged. "I did it because I wanted to! It makes me happy to see you happy, or fulfilled, or relieved, and to know that it's because of me! I did all of that because I love you! But I can’t keep up with all that hard work all the time. I don’t think it’s fair.” You had been fending off the tears as you listened but now the dam broke again, hot as they rolled down your face, and you sniffled as your nose clogged up. “So can you please help me help you easier? Would you please help me love you like that?” His eyes were glassy now as he looked down at you.

The cry came out of your throat as a whine as Laios took you in his arms, embracing you tight while you sobbed into his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt around his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy,” you repeated through the tears and he shushed you, holding you while you cried it out until your gasping, hiccuping breaths slowed and calmed.

It was hard to say what you needed to say next, because you had to admit you were wrong about something you had believed so deeply for most of your life. It wasn’t easy to fully give up the idea that had kept you safe for so long. “I’ll try to be more honest about my feelings… and to ask for help before it’s too late…” Still in his embrace you lifted your head to look up at him, and stared into his eyes with intensity. “It’s terrifying, I won’t lie. But… I trust you.” How couldn’t you trust someone who was so deeply genuine as he was?

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead between your brows, and your eyes rolled closed. When he pulled away you turned your head and pressed your ear to his chest. “I want you to be happy. I want this to work. I love you so much,” he said, and you felt the words rumble against your cheek.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lulled by the sound of his breath and heartbeat.

#i wasnt gonna tag this but maybe someone else needs it too #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #dm #dm laios #x.writing

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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months ago

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Chapter 20 pt. 1- I Do

Summary: It's finally here, the day you've been waiting for since the day Javi came into your life and changed it for the better- It's your wedding day, and things couldn't be more perfect. Except for the fact that you and Javi can barley contain your excitement as you wait to see each other.

Word Count: 11.4K (If this wasn't 2 parts, this would be 30k long and wouldn't be finished until May)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink (?), kind of semi-public sex (they're gettin' busy in the bathroom), Kind of getting caught (Steve needs to mind his own business), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, Javi being an anxious, blubbering, hot mess, Javi being so in love and is so excited to spend the rest of his life with you that it physically hurts me (this chapter is lots of fluff and feelings and not as much smut, sorry!! Don't worry, there's PLENTY more to come next chapter 🤪)

A/N: Hi friends!!! Well, she's finally here, the moment we've all been waiting for- our two favorite idiots are finally getting married 😭💕 While I would have loved to make this one chapter, it literally would have been SO long, and Lord knows when I actually would have finished with it. So this chapter is the morning leading up to the ceremony, and part 2 will be the ceremony and reception!! I'm not even gonna lie, I bawled several times writing this chapter. These two mean so much to me, and I'm so honored that you care enough about them to be invested in my silly little story, too 🥺 HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

For the better part of his life, Javier Peña was convinced there was nothing more soul-crushingly painful and miserable than a wedding. On a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and joy, Javi had spent more years than he’d like to admit doing anything to avoid the occasion all together. Because for him, weddings had meant none of those things. Weddings had only served as yet another reminder of the failure he had chalked himself up to be.

Leaving Lorraine at the altar and running away to Colombia.

Watching the successes of everyone else’s blissful domestic lives play out in front of him, while he’d never felt so alone.

Convincing himself that he would never be worthy of love because of the terrible person that he’d become.

Weddings had been something that Javier Peña hated more than most things in life.

But that was until he met you.

Because today, on the morning of his own wedding, Javi was quite literally bursting at the seams with excitement, goofy grin stretched from ear to ear knowing that in a few short hours, he got to marry the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman he had ever met. And even though the reality had set in that today was finally the day the two of you started your forever together, he was positive that he’d never get over the reality that you would always be his.

As he pulled his truck up the driveway to your new home where he should have been sleeping for the better half of last night, there was a part of him that couldn’t have been more thankful he had been able to sneak in just a few more hours with you before sunrise, knowing the anxious anticipation of waiting to see you all day, let alone see you in your wedding dress at the other end of the aisle, was enough to already have his heart beating a million miles a minute at the ripe hours of the morning.

While he should have known better his Dad would already be well awake by the time he snuck back home, Chucho’s welcoming grin from the front porch was already laced with enough forgiveness for Javi to hope he’d be spared at least some shit from his father.

“”Morning, mijo.” Chucho chuckled, watching Javi’s sheepish stride up the driveway towards the house, slowly sipping on his cup of coffee with a boyish grin on his face, knowing damn well where his son had been without having to say a word.

“I already know what you’re gonna say, Pops.” Javi sighed, shaking his head in embarrassment as he approached his dad, letting out a soft grunt as he took a seat next to his father on the top step of the front porch.

“I haven’t said anything, Javier. Do you have something you want to say?” Chucho couldn’t help but snicker, raising his eyebrows at his son, as he watched his cheeks turn a petrified pink.

“Nope, I am- oh, fuck me- nope I am, uh, all good.” Javi stammered, burying his hands in his face before running them through the sleepy curls of his hair and over the nape of his neck, his eyes still peeled to the ground, avoiding Chucho’s smug grin.

“Then all I have to say is,” Cucho paused, taking another swig of coffee, “I hope you never stop loving her the way that you do now.” Javi looked up at his dad in confusion, wondering how his sneaking out wasn’t shaping up to be some sort of teenage scolding from his father. “I already know that you know you are a very, very lucky man Javier, but I also hope that you know you are going to make a wonderful husband. Eres un buen hombre. Estoy muy feliz por ti, mijo. Tu madre también lo estaría. Muy feliz.” (You are a good man. I am so happy for you, son. Your mom would be, too. So happy.)

Letting his eyes shift off his feet where they had been stuck, Javi looked back up at his father, tears welling in his eyes at Chucho’s reassuring smile, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son, pulling him close enough to let Javi’s head fall on his shoulder, the two sitting for a quiet moment in silence.

Javi couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart, thinking about the fact his mom wouldn’t be with him for the biggest day of his life. His mother had left this world when Javi was at his lowest- alone and halfway across the globe, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in. It had always haunted him that his mom had died worried that her son had become a broken man, and would never be proud of the person he’d turned out to be. When he returned home, he felt even worse thinking that his one living parent probably felt that way, too.

But what brought him solace in a time that he needed it most, was you. You had given him a reason to make his parents proud, to make himself proud. While his mom would never be able to tell him the words he so desperately longed to hear, he knew in his heart that the life he’d built because of you was all the comfort he needed to prove to himself Lucia was smiling down on him when he needed it most. And as he looked up at the sky, the pink and orange rays of the beautiful sunrise beginning to spill over the horizon, he had never been more sure that even though his mom couldn’t physically be by his side, that Lucia Peña would still be with him every step of the way.

“Fuck, I miss her, Pops. I wish she was here.”

“She is, Javier. She always will be.”

After soaking in a few more quiet moments together staring out into the shimmering sunrise, Chucho let out a content sigh, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back and rustling the dark curls of his son’s thick hair.

“But, if there is one thing I know about your Mother, it’s that I can practically hear her screeching at us wasting our time being sad about her on the happiest day of your life. Chucho, por qué piedres el tiempo estar triste? Basta de quejarte! Nuestro hijo se está casando, pendejo!” (Why are you wasting your time being sad! Stop moping! Our son is getting married, stupid.) Chucho mocked, shaking his head at the sky at the scolding he knew he’d be getting from his wife, making him and Javi burst into laughter. “And, if there’s another thing I know about your mother,” Chucho paused again, letting out a loud grunt as he pushed himself up to stand, resting his arm on Javi’s shoulder, “it’s that her and I would both agree there better be a nieto (grandchild) in our lives 9 months from now. Dios mío (oh my God), Javier, even on the night before your wedding you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves! I am truly surprised I don’t have 14 grandchildren already.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops….” Javi whispered to himself over his dad’s schoolgirl snickers, watching his son’s face fall flush once again, standing up to follow behind his dad back inside as Chuhco began to waddle his way across the porch.

Although Javi could have tried to plead his case to his dad to prove his innocence, truth be told, today, he really didn’t care. Today, the only thing he cared about was that in just a few short hours, he got to meet you, his wife, at the end of the aisle and spend his forever with the woman he loved more than life itself. For the first time in his life, Javier Peña couldn’t have been more excited for a wedding.

You weren’t sure how many more times you had read the scratchy print scribbled across the bright yellow post-it Javi had left behind on his pillow before he had snuck out for the morning, but you did know that your heart beat faster and faster in anxious anticipation with every glance over his words, counting down the second until you got to see him again.

You had kept yourself in your room, convinced that your excited impatience would have you awake well before everyone else still sleeping at the ranch, but as you heard clanging and bickering starting to echo from the kitchen, you should have known better that your mom and Connie would be up to something to kick start your wedding day.

With a yawn and stretch of your arms above your head, you flopped yourself out of bed, exchanging Javi’s worn t-shirt and sleep shorts for the white pajama set your mom had insisted she buy for you to get ready in as a compromise for your adamant despise at the white silky robe that had “bride” stitched across it in big pink letters that she had begged to buy you.

Shuffling down the hallway, the commotion in the kitchen only became increasingly louder, now realizing almost everyone must be awake for whatever antics were taking place for the early hours of the morning. As you turned the corner, you were greeted by an adorable “Happy Wedding Day!” banner that had been made by the girls hanging on the wall, decorated with adorable crayon drawings of flowers, you and Javi, and all of the horses of the Peña ranch dressed in wedding apparel. As your eyes scanned across the rest of the room, the kitchen table was already full of breakfast, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and your mom and Connie were actively working on filling up what was most likely one too many glasses of mimosas.

“Happy wedding day, Auntie Bear!” A little voice cooed behind you, looking down to see a still very sleepy Olivia, hair still crazed and bed ridden as she wrapped herself around your hip, squeezing you in a tight hug.

“Ahhhhh, there’s the bride!!” Your mom shrieked, her pitch enough to make everyone in the room wince as she barreled towards you, joining Olivia to engulf you in her grasp. After everyone had recovered from your mom’s shrill greeting, everyone else had soon joined in on squeezing you in a giant group hug, the gesture in itself making you smile, but the physical restraint in the middle of a human sandwich being a little too much for you this early in the morning.

“Thanks guys. I uh, I would like to make it out alive for my wedding so maybe if we don’t squish me to death, that would be great.” You grunted, trying to wriggle out of the arms squishing your body, hoping that someone would get the hint.

“Alright, I think she’s probably had enough.” Connie laughed, finally noticing the look on your face, prompting everyone to give you at least a little breathing room.

“I’m just so excited for you! I can’t believe you’re getting married, sweetie!” Your mom, clearly not picking up on the hint, was now back to squeezing you in a bear hug again tight enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I’m done now, just had to get one last one out of my system… for now. Here, have a seat, honey,” Your mom gestured towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “we have about an hour before we have to start doing hair and makeup but we have plenty of breakfast for you to choose from before we get the day started. How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, um- fine, I um, I slept fine.” You lied, now sheepishly staring down at the overflowing plate of breakfast food your mom had set in front of you, taking a hefty bite of pancake before looking back up, your eyes meeting Connie’s, a suspicious smirk gleaming on her face as she stared at you, crossing your arms over your chest as you swallowed your food with a more audible than intended gulp.

“Oh good!” Your mom replied, obvious to yours and Connie’s silent interaction as she meandered around the kitchen. “Well, eat up, I’m off to go check on some things outside, but by the time I get back in here, that plate better be cleared! Girls, come help Grandma, let your Aunt finish her breakfast!”

“Okay!” Your nieces giggled, following behind your mom into the backyard, leaving you and Connie alone in the kitchen, hearing her silently laugh to herself as she sat down next to you at the table.

“Good sleep, huh? Good sleep that definitely had nothing to do with Javi’s truck that left here at 6:00 AM this morning?” Connie snickered, giving you a little wink as your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, letting out a defeated sigh.

“I promise it’s not what you think. I actually couldn’t sleep and I called Javi and he ended up coming over so I wouldn’t be up the whole night. I told him he didn’t have to, but I was up and stressed and having him here was the only thing that was going to help. It was just sleep, I promise.”

“It’s okay, I believe you. I couldn’t sleep the night before my wedding either. I’m pretty sure if I did what you had done, Steve would have slept right through the phone call, or still would have been too drunk to drive over.” The two of you quietly giggled to yourselves as Connie reached out for your hand, holding it in hers, “I hope you know that he loves you so much. It always broke my heart to see Javi go through what he did, and how hard on himself he was because of it. You really are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. I’m so happy for the two of you, I couldn’t be more excited for today, honey.”

Reaching across the table, Connie wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you in another hug, trying to hold back your sniffles as you felt happy tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Thank you, Connie.”

“Of course. Now, you better pick what you want from that breakfast and throw away the rest before your mom gets back, I don’t think either one of us wants to be responsible for telling her that her food wasn’t sufficient enough for you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the dismay your mom would be in thinking that you didn’t get enough to eat before your big day as you put a reasonable amount of breakfast on a new plate to eat, discarding the other heaping pile that your mom had left you.

“You are a smart woman, Connie Murphy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The rest of the morning seemed to move by at an exponential pace- At the Pena ranch, hair and makeup was well underway for everyone, and running on time with incredible efficiency from the detailed schedule that your mom and Connie had put together. Even though your body was riddled with endless amounts of anxious anticipation and excitement as the clock ticked closer and closer to when Javi and the rest of the boys would finally get here, you were pleasantly surprised at how fun the morning had ended up being with all the girls, especially since your nieces and the Murphy girls had insisted on putting on a hilarious sing along spectacular for the majority of the time for entertainment while you got ready.

Over at your new house, however, with the only getting ready that Javi needed to do being taking a shower and putting on his suit, the boys were convinced that he was going to put a hole in the floor from his anxious pacing as he counted down the minutes to leave.

“Jav, have a beer, man, you just put this floor in, I think your wife’s gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to replace it before y’all even move in because you can’t sit still.” Steve chuckled, taking a sip out of his can before nudging your brothers sitting next to him on the couch as they watched their friend and future brother in law tread back and forth across the living room for what felt like the 117th time since they’d sat down.

“I think I have to agree with Steve on this one, Javier, you are making me anxious and I’m not even the one getting married.” Chucho chimed in from the armchair seated next to the couch.

“I’ll second what Steve said, man. Have a beer, Javi. You haven’t shut up all day about how fuckin’ excited you are, so what’s got you so worked up? You’ve seen her in a dress before dude, this one’s just white.” Your brother David snorted, his joke now soliciting some eye rolls from the rest of the boys, considering David was about single as they came, and was the only one of the group who wasn’t even remotely close to being married.

“It’s a fucking wedding dress, you dingus, there’s obviously a difference.” Your dad groaned, walking up to your brother to give him a prompt smack in the back of the head, making your other brother Charlie snicker to himself, until he also decided to greet him with an equally harsh slap for good measure.

“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t say anything!” Charlie winced, holding his hands up in defense.

“Tell your brother to stop being an ass! She’s your sister too, for Christ’s Sake, you’re not gonna stand up for her either?! Jesus you two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Even Patrick would have had enough common sense to keep that one in his head. Well, maybe not, but that’s besides the point.” That one at least cracked a little smile from your brothers, wishing that Patrick would have been here to see their sister’s big day, and to distribute the slapping pain more equally between the pair.

“I just… Fuck, I just wanna see her. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. The suspense is fucking killing me.” Javi signed, resting one hand on his hip before running his hand through his hair, anxiously drumming his fingers on his side, foot tapping on the well worn path he had been treading on the hardwood floor of the living room.

Chucho chuckled, resting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a low grunt, making his way over to his son, resting his hand on his shoulder as he looked up at him. “Eres como tu madre.. Impaciente. (You are just like your mother… Impatient). Mijo, I remember when I married your mother, she was so excited that she actually asked if we could start the wedding an hour early, just so we could see each other sooner. I can almost hear her laughing at the fact that her son is no better than her. How I wish she were here to see this. Soon, Javier. I promise.”

“Do you think she’s gonna like the gift? You made sure she has it for today, right? And everything from her brothers too?” Javi asked, nervously biting at the tip of his thumb as he glanced down at his father before looking over at David and Charlie sitting on the couch, smiling back at him.

“Yes, Javier. I triple checked last night. I’m sure that she will love it. I know she will love it. All of it. Now, why don’t you go put on your suit and we can leave a little ahead of schedule, I will just make sure to drive extra slow. Even slower than normal. I think if we wait any longer you may actually combust.” He teased, pulling Javi into a tight hug before releasing him, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

“Alright boys, you heard the man, get your sorry asses moving and let’s get these monkey suits on, it’s time to get this boy married!” David cheered, holding up his beer to toast Javi before promptly chugging the rest of it down his throat and slamming it down on the table, soliciting another round of eye rolls and muffled laughter from the crowd.

Silently nodding and smiling to himself, letting out one last reassuring breath before looking at the boys standing in front of him.

“Fuck. I’m gonna get married.”

Back at the ranch, the last of getting ready was beginning to wrap up, all the girls' hair and makeup finally finished, and the youngest of the crew giddily dancing in their flower girl dresses, twirling and swirling in excitement at their pristine outfits as they gathered around you, patiently awaiting for you to get into your own wedding dress.

For as long as you’d wanted to get married, you’d always known that you wanted your wedding dress to be simple- No excessive frills, poof, glitter, or anything that made you feel like you were playing dress up for the world’s goofiest fashion show, simply because it was your wedding, and your dress needed to reflect the extravagance of the event. Your style choice came as a surprise to no one, given the fact you had practically lived in your brother’s hand-me-down’s until the 8th grade, and even when your mom had flown down a few months ago to go dress shopping with you and Connie, she had even laid down the hammer with one of the wedding dress consultants that you wouldn’t even step anywhere near a dress that was an ounce too over the top.

That’s why you were absolutely shocked that despite your firm parameters around what you wanted to wear for your big day, that you fell in love with the very first dress you tried on, and never looked back.

It was everything you wanted and never you needed in a dress- a simple a-line skirt with thin straps that ran across your shoulders and scooped down your back, along with a delicate, lacy floral pattern stitched across your top that flowed down the wispy length of your gown. There were few times that you had ever admitted it to yourself, but you had truly never felt more beautiful than when you were wearing that dress, and when you had tried it on for the first time, only to turn around to see the tears welling in your mom and Connie’s eyes as you revealed it to them, it was every confirmation that you needed that this dress was made for you.

And while you had been counting down the days in excitement, waiting to put your dress on for your big day, Javi had been counting down along with you, to the point where Connie had made the executive decision to keep the dress at her house to prevent any preemptive peeking, considering that Javi had spent every day since you had bought your dress telling you how he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you were going to look in it, without even knowing a single clue about what you had boughten, besides your lovingly sarcastic and vague “It’s a dress, and it’s white, Jav.”

But after all the time you had spent imagining what it would be like to finally put your dress on for your actual wedding day, you almost couldn’t believe that you were finally here, carefully taking the straps off the hanger where it had been resting, holding the beautiful, white fabric out in front of you with a goofy grin spread across your face, eyeing down the outfit that meant you got to spend forever with your best friend.

“You ready to put it on?” Connie asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she stepped behind you, excitedly gazing at your dress right alongside you.

“Yeah.” You smiled, gently nodding your head as you looked back at Connie, taking one last deep breath before passing off the dress to her before shimmying out of your clothes, letting them fall to a pile on the floor before turning to Connie, stepping into the opening of the dress and carefully pulling each strap over your shoulders while she pulled the zipper along your back, letting out a little sigh of relief as it clasped at the top. With one more long inhale, you slowly turned around to face everyone, eagerly awaiting your reveal, picking up your gown with a little floof as it gently draped around you, meeting the tears and smiles painted across everyone’s faces while they gazed at you.

“Auntie Bear, you look like a princess! Uncle Javi is gonna think that you look like the most beautifulest person he’s ever seen.” Olivia squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before running over to you, wrapping her little arms around your waist in a tight hug.

“Oh sweetheart…. You look absolutely stunning.” Your mom sniffled through her tears, holding her hands crossed over her chest, soaking in your full wedding ensemble.

“You look gorgeous. Like, seriously. I hope you know that Javi’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this.” Connie giggled, giving you a wink and a playful nudge, looking you up and down in astonishment.

Stepping over to see yourself in the mirror, your heart skipped a beat to see yourself, your stomach churning with anxious, excited butterflies knowing that you were only getting closer and closer to finally seeing Javi and his reaction, trying your best to not your smirk grow too wide between your warm cheeks, thinking about his reaction.

“You really think he’s gonna like it?” You asked, your eyes still fixed at your reflection in the mirror, gently swaying your lacy, floral skirt back and forth, running your hand against the delicate fabric.

“Honey, I’ve watched that man ogle over you in a hockey jersey. I told the boys they’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t faint when you walk down the aisle.” Your mom teased, Connie nodding her head in agreement.

“I’m gonna second your mom on this one, girl. Steve has a running bet with the guys on how long it takes Javi to cry after he sees you. I think the over/under is 2 seconds, but after seeing you right now, I’m convinced he’s all waterworks from the moment he lays eyes on you.”

Connie’s comment made you laugh to yourself, shaking your head at the idea of Javi instantly bursting into tears from just the sight of you, but when you thought about seeing Javi in his tux (that you had already seen before, multiple times) and what a mess you were going to be, maybe the boy’s betting line didn’t seem so unfair after all.

“Speaking of tears…” Connie smirked at your mom, nodding at her to signify some little secret they seemed to be in on, “There’s one last thing you need to see before… Well, we’ll let you open it up and find out.”

With that, your mom reached over to one of the tables where a white box with a neatly wrapped bow had been hidden, your mom passing it to Connie before then passing it over to you, making you tilt your head in confusion as you took the box in your hands, looking back and forth between your mom, Connie and the box waiting for some sort of explanation.

“What is this?” you questioned, still puzzled as you noticed the gift tag hidden under the bow, gently peeling it open, their suspicious smirks beginning to spread as you read the all too familiar scratchy handwriting inside.

To: Osita

Love: Javi

Now even more confused, you carefully began unwrapping the bow from around the packaging, letting the ribbon fall to the floor, followed by the lid of the box, revealing another longer note from Javi, resting on top of a bed of neatly folded tissue paper. You sat down in one of the chairs close by, letting the box rest on your lap as you held the note in your hands, already beginning to tremble as you felt the tears start to well in your eyes as you began to read.

Osita,

I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe that day is finally here. I hope that this day is everything that you could ever dream it to be.

I hope you know that if I could I would give you everything. The moon, the sun, the stars- if you wanted it, I would give it to you.

But I know that no matter how hard I try, there is one thing I know can’t give to you, and that’s the presence of the people who aren’t with us anymore.

And while I can’t bring back your brother or my mom to be here today, I hope that what’s in this box will remind you that they’ll always be here for you, no matter what.

I know my mom would have wanted you to have this. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you so much. I hope she knows that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Your family was able to find something of your brother’s for you to have on here too- I wish I could have met him. I hope he knows how much I love you, and the beautiful and resilient woman you’ve become. I hope he knows how proud I am of you.

I can’t wait to see you, amor. I can’t even imagine how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world.

I love you more than words, and I promise I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know it.

Happy Wedding Day, Osita. Soy tuyo para siempre (I’m yours forever).

-J

You could feel your heart practically exploding after reading what Javi had wrote for you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks, you took a deep breath as you carefully set down his note next to you before ever so slowly peeling back the layers of tissue paper folded on top of one another, hiding the gift hidden beneath them. As the last layer of the delicate paper was shed, you let out a gasp, you hand covering your mouth in shock as you put together the pieces of Javi’s note and the present now sitting in your lap, looking up at everyone else in the room, nodding back at you with sympathetic smiles and tears in their eyes at your realization.

Not only had Javi had given you his mother’s wedding veil to wear, but stitched in the bottom corner was a patch of Patrick’s old hockey jerseys, a small number 2 from his arm sleeve, the number he had worn for every jersey he had ever played in.

“Oh my… Oh my god? I can’t, I- how did you- oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face as you held the veil in your hands, your thumb gently tracing over the worn patch of Patrick’s jersey, truly too stunned to speak at what Javi had done for you, to make sure a piece of two people who were no longer with you could still be a part of the biggest day of your life.

“Can I put it on?” Your mom asked, smiling at you with tears in her eyes, walking towards you as you nodded, handing her over the veil as she gently nestled it into your hair, straightening it out behind you, even more tears streaming down her face while she watched your reaction in the mirror.

Not only was Lucia’s veil absolutely beautiful, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought Javi had asked someone to see what your dress looked like to pick out a veil that matched it perfectly. Like it truly was meant to be.

Still too shocked to form any sort of coherent thought, you stared at yourself in the mirror, silently smiling and crying at your reflection until a soft knock came from outside the bedroom door, making everyone in the room whip their heads around to see all of the boys who had just arrived peeking through the door frame, waiting in anticipation.

“Can we come in? We’re dyin’ to see you, Cubby. Well, the one who’s dyin to see you the most we banished to the outside so he wasn’t even tempted to come in, but the rest of us fools still wanna see you too.” Your dad’s voice chuckled from behind the door, making you break from your crying just enough to let a soft laugh escape from your chest, nodding your head as you turned around to greet the gang gathered at the door.

Growing up the youngest of 3 brothers, sentimental wasn’t a term thrown around in your household very often. Of course you loved your family, and they loved you, but you and your brothers had often joked that it’d probably be easier to projectile vomit than to actually say the words “I love you” eachother. So that’s why when your dad and brothers walked through the door with awestruck looks on their faces, you couldn’t help but start crying even more.

Well, until they actually got a chance to speak.

“Don’t cry you dingus, you’re gonna mess up all your makeup. And god knows how long it took to try and make you look like you didn’t just crawl out of a garbage can.” David quietly snickered, pulling you in for a much gentler than usual headlock before wrapping his arms around you for a legitimate hug.

“Fuck off, David. How many people had to help you put that suit on, huh? You use every last brain cell trying to do up those buttons?” You teased back, trying to wipe the tears that had been rolling down your cheeks before giving him a loving slap to the stomach, making the two of you laugh even more.

“You know his dumbass needed all the help he could get.” Charlie joked, pulling you in for another hug before stepping back to look you up and down, “Not too shabby. You clean up good, Cubby.”

“Thanks Charlie.”

The last one to step towards you was your dad, who you could tell was trying with everything in him not to absolutely burst into tears, putting one hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you. “I’ll say it once and I won’t say it again because you know as well as I do I’m not good with the sappy shit. You look beautiful, Cubby. I’m so proud of you. I know Patrick would have been too. Although that motherfucker is probably pissed at us that we cut the number off of his favorite jersey, but I think he’ll forgive us.” Wrapping you in a tight squeeze, your dad engulfed you in a bear hug, quickly followed by your brothers and your mom, trapping you in the center of their bodies, knowing you all were wishing there was one more person there in your group to fill in your hug.

“I love you guys. Thank you.” You whispered, just loud enough to make sure they could hear, but quiet enough that even though your brothers had heard it, just this once, they wouldn’t give you shit for it. And just this once, everyone seemed to silently agree that they really, truly, did love you too.

After a few more seconds of your group hug, there was another soft knock on the door, followed by another familiar voice, Chucho and Steve now peeking through the doorway to say hello.

“Is it okay if we come in, Mija?” Chuco asked, already halfway through the door in excitement.

“Yes, of course.” You sniffed, breaking free from the middle of your group hug to greet Chucho, less than shocked that his hug was almost tighter than the 4 other members of your family combined.

“Mija… Mija, you look so beautiful. Oh, goodness. I had always saved this veil one day, just in case. And even though it sat in the attic for years, I pulled it out the week that Javier first met you. I don’t think that there was ever a doubt in anyone’s mind that you weren’t the one for him. My sweet Lucia would have been so happy to know that you have given Javier everything he never thought that he deserved. Oh, how I wish with everything she could have been here today to see how happy you make him. But I hope that you know, she would have been so excited that you get to be a part of our family.” He grinned through his tears, stepping back to look at you with a soft smile on his face, gently reaching up to wipe away the wetness on your cheek before pulling you back in for another hug. “I hope you know that Javier is going to be a wreck when he sees you. Poor boy has been in shambles all day waiting to see you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man this anxious. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Steve chimed in, laughing to himself. “You look great, sweetheart. Chucho’s right, Javi’s ‘bout to be a goddamn mess.”

As if your heart couldn’t feel any fuller from all of the love and warmth overflowing into the room, you had almost forgotten about the one person that had brought you all together in the first place- Javi.

You could feel the pace of your heart begin to race, your stomach swirling in anticipation as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in.

Your future husband was here, and there was nothing more in the world that you wanted than to see him. Not soon, not at the end of the aisle, not waiting for you at the altar, right this very second.

“He’s here, right? Javi?” You asked, biting down on your lip to contain the stupid grin growing between your cheeks, swaying back and forth on your heels in childlike impatience. Before you could barely ask your question, all eyes in the room were on your, giving you a collective look that seemed to scream “Seriously? You can’t wait either?” without having to say a word.

As you could hear the beginning rumblings of protest, David stepped in as the most unexpected voice of reason, holding his hands up to the crowd in your defense, trying to silence everyone’s potential disagreement for what you were about to suggest.

“Listen… Y’all know as well as I do that we could hold back these two with iron restraints, and they’d still probably find a way to see each other before the ceremony. And to be quite honest, I am pretty convinced if we don’t let them, one of them is gonna fucking combust, and I am not willing to be held personally responsible for any damages done before you two idiots can even get married.”

Giving you a silent nod of approval, David stepped back to pat your back with the loving force that only a brother could, as everyone else in the room seemed to very quickly agree with his sentiment, joining with head bobs of quiet agreement.

“I’ll go let the big man know you’re comin’. Gotta find some way to redeem myself before I bust his balls in my speech later.” Steve snickered, giving you a quick wink before quickly disappearing out the door to find the man behind it, waiting half as patiently as you.

To say that Javi was disappointed when the boys booted him to the outdoors while everyone else got to go in and see you was the understatement of the year. Even though he couldn’t have been sitting on the front porch of his childhood home for more than 10 minutes, it felt like he had been waiting for hours, counting down each second until the moment he finally got to lay his eyes on you. After about 2 minutes of sitting in his dad’s rocking chair, nervously swaying as his hands shifted between his fingers drumming on his legs and balling up in anxious fists, he pushed himself up to stand, walking off the steps of the porch to pace in the front yard under the warmth of the late June sun.

He had been so preoccupied as he meandered the front of the home, picturing just how breathtaking you would look as you walked down the aisle to greet him- how gorgeous you would be in your dress, your hair, your stunning smile, everything about you that made him look at you and know that he was the luckiest man in the world. That you were his. That you were everything that made him feel like home. It wasn’t until after a few careless steps too far around the corner of the house, that Javi was catching himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a larger than suspected rock underneath him, quietly cursing under his breath while he tried to steady himself, peering down at the ground to see what had almost caused his fall. And when he finally read the words etched into the round stone beneath him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact the thing resting below him was none other than the heading that read “Lucia’s Garden”.

“Jesus Christ, Ma, you’re not even here and you’re gonna take me out before the wedding even happens.” Javi chuckled to himself, gently tapping his foot against the rock, staring at the worn and weathered letters of her name. “You know, the very first time Pops met her, he let her work on the garden. I couldn’t believe it, because he barely lets me within 10 feet of here without worrying I’m gonna ruin something. But uh, I think that he knew. I think before he even met her, he already knew that she was the one.”

Letting out a soft sigh, Javi crouched down, squatting next to the stone, gently brushing his thumb across the grittiness, carefully tracing each letter back and forth, praying with every ounce of him that one way or another, she could hear what he had to say.

“I really wish you could be here, Mom. I really miss you. I really wish she could have gotten to meet you. I know that you’d love her.” Javi paused, his eyes beginning to well with tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale to try and compose himself. “She’s so good to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her. She’s made me a better man. A man that I’m proud of. A man I hope you’d be proud of, too.” He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know that uh- I know before, um you were gone, that you really worried about me. I know you’d never say it, but um, I could tell. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” His voice was now barely above a whisper, years of guilt and anger bubbling in his chest for the person he’d been, the life his mother had lived to see him play out while halfway across the world, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore.

“But, I um- I just- fuck, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m more than okay, now. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of her. We’re gonna build a house, we’re gonna have kids, we’re gonna be so happy, Mom. So fucking happy. Te amo mucho, Mama. Siempre lo hare (I love you so much, Mama. I always will).”

So focused on the quiet conversation with the simple stone sitting beneath him, Javi hadn’t even heard Steve’s hurried footsteps creeping up behind him, making Javi practically jump out of his skin as Steve’s hand met his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. You ready to-”

“Jesus, fuck Murph. You scared the fucking shit out of me.” Javi gasped, thoroughly startled as he shot to his feet, quickly trying to wipe the tears from his face as he faced his friend.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to, promise!” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in defense before letting his expression shift to concern at Javi’s face. “Hey, you okay, Jav?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m- No, I’m good, sorry. Just um- Just wish my mom could have been here for this, ya know? She would have really fucking loved her.”

“Hey, it’s okay, man. My dad was gone before my wedding, too. Fuckin’ sucks.” Steve smiled sympathetically, “Truth be told Jav, that girl you’re gonna marry, I think it’s hard for anyone not to love her. Your mom would be really happy for ya.”

“Thanks, Murph.” Javi huffed, a small smile spreading across his face at Steve’s genuine sympathy, a trait he didn’t see very often.

“C’mere, buddy.” Without giving him a choice, Steve wrapped his arms around Javi, pulling him in for a hug with a few stiff pats on the back before pulling away with a nod, hands on his hips as he stared down his friend with a shit eating grin, knowing the news he was about to tell Javi would instantly turn his mood around. “Speakin’ of your future wife… You wanna see her?”

“Wait, like, now? Like, actually?” Javi’s mood instantly shifted, his entire body lighting up at the prospect, looking at Steve with relief glistening in his dark brown eyes.

“Yeah, actually. Thank God your wife is just as obsessed with you as you are with her. Jesus Christ, I think the both of ya would have fuckin’ exploded if we made you wait ‘till the ceremony.” Steve chuckled, grabbing Javi’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake. “Alright, you turn around so it’s a surprise when she gets out here, lemme go get her. And Jav?” Steve asked, turning his head back over his shoulder to look at his friend as he began to walk away back towards the house.

“Yeah, Murph?”

“You’re losin’ that bet. No way in fuckin’ hell you ain’t sobbin’ like a baby the second you lay eyes on her.”

As Steve disappeared back into the house, Javi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, because as much as he wanted to dish shit back to Steve, he knew his friend was right- He was about to be a fucking mess.

“So? Are we good? Does he wanna see me?” You asked, anxiously waiting at the door, feet tapping on the floor hidden underneath your dress as you waited for Steve’s return.

“No offense, Sweetheart, but that's just about the dumbest question I've ever heard. What do you think? Of course the bastard wants to see you. I’m just gonna warn ya though, that man is a hot mess, and I really think ya just may kill him the second he sees you.” The two of you laughed to yourselves, feeling your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with every passing second, using all of your self restraint to keep from bolting out the door past Steve to see Javi. “Alright, I won’t keep ya any longer, go get ‘em, killer.”

Before you could get yourself out the door, you embraced Steve in a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he hugged you back, smiles spread across both your faces.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t got nothin’ to thank me for. If anything, hell, I should be thankin’ you. You two lovebirds are a match made in fuckin’ heaven. I was real worried about that old bastard for a long time. Glad to know I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Well, at least too much more. Now, enough about my sorry ass, go see your husband.”

With a silent nod, you gave Steve one more quick hug before you were turning the knob to the front door, quietly stepping out to the front porch to see Javi’s back to you at the bottom of the stairs, already trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes without even seeing his face. As you closed the door behind you, Javi instantly perked up, turning his head back over his shoulder just enough to speak, but not enough to see that it was you who was walking to greet him.

“She good to come out, Murph? I’m fucking dying out here.” Javi laughed, making you giggle at the fact that he had no idea it was you who was standing behind him.

“Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately, I am not Steve. So sorry.” You snickered, practically feeling Javi’s eyes roll at your sarcastic comment, even though the both of you were thankful for a little humor to break the anxious anticipation that had been festering in your stomachs since this morning.

“God, you’re such a dork.” He laughed, his back still turned to you as you took your final steps down the stairs with your dress in hand, trying to fluff it back out as you settled yourself behind him.

“Hey, you’ve got me for the rest of your life, babe. Lucky you. I’m not gonna lie, don’t think I cleaned up half bad, ya know, if you wanna see.” You teased, giving Javi a playful poke on the back as you bit down on your bottom lip, so excited to see Javi’s reaction you truly thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

“Baby, you have no fucking idea. C-can I, can I see you?” Javi stammered, his voice already beginning to tremble.

“Well, I think I’m gonna implode if you don’t, so yeah.” You took one last long inhale in, holding your breath as Javi slowly began to turn to face you, feeling like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion when Javi’s eyes finally locked with yours.

Javi couldn’t even get a word out before his hands were covering his mouth, his jaw dropping open in absolute awe to see you standing behind him. The tears he swore to himself he’d try to fight back were already streaming down his face, his eyes looking you up and down over and over again, trying to soak in every ounce of you, only crying harder as he noticed each and every new detail of you standing before him.

“Osita… Oh my god. Oh my god.” Javi’s hand stayed glued over his mouth to try and keep his jaw from dropping any further than it already was, absolutely mesmerized by your beauty, barely able to get out any sort of coherent thought out of his brain. “Baby, you, oh my god, you look so beautiful. You look so fucking beautiful.”

While you figured that Javi would cry and be excited to see you, nothing could have prepared you for the reaction that you were witnessing in real time, watching your future husband become a complete, blubbering mess at the sight of you, making it damn near impossible for you to hold it together yourself, considering the fact that you were also busy trying to take in the ridiculously handsome sight of Javi in his tuxedo- his broad body filling out every inch of the black fabric perfectly, hair and mustache impeccably groomed, and sweet, teary brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight, making you melt, tears rolling down your face as your heart bursted at the seams over and over again, wondering how in the world this wasn’t all some sort of a perfect dream.

“You like it?” You managed to choke out through your happy sobs, your cheeks straining from the stupid grin that had spread across your face, the both of you radiating in the blissful glow of your excitement.

“Like it? Osita, are you fucking kidding me? Do I like it? Holy shit, baby, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You look... Osita, you look incredible.” Javi laughed through his tears, taking another step back to grab your hand, looking you up and down again before holding your arms up to twirl you in a circle, your dress flowing around you, making you giggle as you finally finished rotating to lock eyes with Javi again. “Hermosa, I knew you were gonna look amazing, but I- I never, I never could have imagined that you were gonna look like this.”

“Coming from you? Jesus, Jav, I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me in that tux before we can even get married. You look so good. Javi?” You paused, grabbing his other hand so your fingers were intertwined, his thumb automatically tracing soft circles on your skin.

“Yeah, baby?” Javi replied, biting down on his bottom lip as he gulped, trying to hold back the lump resting in his throat from his happy tears as he stared down at you.

“Javi… We’re getting married. We’re getting fucking married.”

“Fuck. We’re getting married. Holy shit.” As if the smile on Javi’s face couldn’t get any wider, his boyish grin gleamed between his cheeks, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug against his chest, the two of you laughing to yourself in disbelief that you had finally made it here- that only a few short moments, the two of you got to begin the rest of your forevers together. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked in a soft whisper, pulling back to tilt his head towards yours, sliding one of his hands up to gently cup your cheek, shifting your gaze up towards him.

“What kind of question is that, you dork?” You teased, bringing your mouth close enough to his to let your lips barely ghost over one anothers, butterflies swarming in a sea of excitement.

“Because I’m afraid if I start kissing you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

“Do your worst, Peña.”

As if time began to move in slow motion, your mouths met with an electric and tender intensity, slowly becoming a mix of tangled tongues and teeth, your hand sneaking under the opening of Javi’s suit jacket to wrap around his waist as the grip around your face began to tighten, your bodies melting together as one in a nearly magical moment- Well, as magical as it could get before being interrupted by all your friends and family that had gathered on the front porch to share in the moment with you.

“Hey! Lovebirds! Jesus Christ, save it for the ceremony!” Steve shouted, a chorus of laughter erupting behind him, startling you and Javi.

“Good Lord, Steve, give it a rest. They missed each other!” Connie sighed, shaking her head at her husband’s loud interruption.

“Yeah, that’s our sister, you pervert!” David chimed in, the familiarity of his taunting voice making you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you stared back at the crowd.

“Will you can it, you dingus? It’s their wedding day for Christ’s sake!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the back of the head.

“Daddy, what’s a pervert?” Olivia asked, looking over at Charlie as Chucho held her against his hip, grimacing as he tried not to laugh at the exchange.

“Seriously David, really? Grow up! They’re so adorable, let your sister have this.” Your mom scolded, promptly giving him another whack to the stomach, you and Javi now laughing to each other at the scene that was unfolding in front of you on the porch.

“Well,” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge, “It seems like everyone else has been able to solve the ‘you not being able to stop kissing me’ problem.”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed to himself, running his hand over his face as he stared back into the crowd watching you and him, “Can we get a few more minutes to ourselves before the ceremony? Please? I haven’t seen her all day.”

“C’mon, let’s give the two some privacy. Lindas (cuties), why don’t we go look to make sure all the flowers are ready. Maybe we can practice walking down the aisle again?” Cucho smiled at the two of you, giving Javi a subtle wink as the girls began to giggle with delight, racing off to the backyard in a fit of squeals of excitement.

“We’ll do another check of everything, too, I wanna make sure everything’s in place before the ceremony. Do you mind helping, Connie? Boys, will you go check to make sure all the food and drinks are ready for cocktail hour” Your mom asked, picking up on Chucho’s hint to give the two of you some space, now trying to rope your dad, brothers and Steve into that equation as well.

“Can I have a beer if I help?”

“Jesus Christ, David.”

Everyone's conversations began to trail as they headed their separate ways, leaving you and Javi standing in the front yard alone, once again, looking at each other with mischievous grins- Yours from knowing damn well that Javi had something up his sleeve, and Javi’s from the something stored up there.

“What’s that look for, Jav?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi as you waited for him to let you in on whatever plan he had brewing in his brain.

“I think… I think that I really have to go to the bathroom.” Javi replied, boyish grin glowing between his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest.

“And you’re really making it seem like going to the bathroom is a two person job.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Baby, the ceremony is gonna start in an hour, everyone’s here and I don’t think there’s gonna be enough-”

Before you could finish your thought, Javi was swallowing the rest of your sentence in a long, deep kiss, only pulling away to quietly rasp in your ear.

“Is that a challenge, Osita? I promise I’ll be fast, baby, you just look so fucking beautiful, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it if I can’t have my wife all to myself, even if it’s just for a few minutes. ”

“God, you’re such a drama queen.” You sighed with a snicker, heat creeping in your core knowing that you had just as little self control as Javi did, peeking your head to make sure that everyone had dispersed before they watched you and Javi sneak inside together. “We have to be quick, okay? I just don’t want-AH! Javi!” You squealed as Javi was scooping you off your feet mid sentence, very fittingly carrying you bridal style across the front yard and up the steps of the porch, nudging the door open with his hip, the two of you all giggles and smiles as he whisked you through the house, stopping at his childhood bedroom, promptly setting you on the ground to shut the door behind him.

With a click of the lock and a rattle of the door handle to make sure they were safe from intruders, Javi’s hands were all over you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours as he walked you back towards the ensuite attached to his bedroom, hoisting you up onto the kitchen sink as he shut the bathroom door behind him for an extra layer of protection.

You could tell how hard Javi was trying to keep himself in check, considering the amount of time and effort that had gone into your hair and makeup, and the delicacy of your dress, but it was taking every ounce of self control he had to not rip it right off you. Softly letting his kisses trail down your body, Javi began to sink to his knees, smirking up at you with his awestruck gaze as he carefully began to lift up the layers of your dress, running his hands up and down your bare thighs.

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, Osita? Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. My beautiful, amazing, perfect wife.” The hot breath of his words danced against your skin as Javi peppered soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, his head almost disappearing underneath your dress as he creeped closer and closer to your core, already soaked with your arousal waiting for Javi’s touch. “You’re mine forever, Hermosa. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too, Javi.” You whined, your breath already shaky as Javi’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor below you before letting his fingers glide through your folds, already glistening with your arousal.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, baby. Can’t believe this perfect pussy is all mine forever too. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. Mmmm, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have to taste you, Hermosa. Can I, baby?” Javi mewled, making you gasp as he gently slid two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down.

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, Fu-ahhhhh.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked a long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine.

While Javi would have loved to take every second of his sweet time to savor in watching you fall apart on his tongue, he knew just as well as you that he was working on a limited schedule, and wanted, no, needed to make sure he could get you off at least once before his luck ran out.

Javi began to work his tongue against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your heat, his free hand hooking around your thigh and draping it over his shoulder, digging his fingertips into the meat of your flesh, like he was trying to ground himself more than you.

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as, his lips now latching around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around Javi’s fingers with every movement of his mouth against you.

“That’s it, mi amor.” Javi cooed, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Forever. I’ve always got you. Promento (I promise).”

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so cl-ooohhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder, shuttering at the loss of Javi’s fingers inside you. He carefully pulled them out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“Tastes so fucking sweet. My wife tastes so fucking sweet. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Javi chuckled with a boyish grin, gently cupping his hand under your chin as the other wrapped around your waist.

“Get over what? Calling me your wife or eating me out?” You giggled, still trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high, biting down on your lip as your arms draped over Javi’s shoulders, your fingers tracing soft circles at the nape of his neck.

“Both. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, you menace.” You smiled, tilting your head back to kiss Javi again, so blissfully lost in the moment, that the two of you both about jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud knock coming from the bedroom door.

“Jav? You in here, buddy?”

“Goddamnit, Murph…”

The familiar twang of Steve’s voice made you freeze in fear, Javi quickly helping you down off the counter as he cursed to himself before the two of you were trying your best to fix yourselves up in the mirror to try and hide any signs of the horny whirlwind that had blown through the bathroom.

“Javi?” Steve called out again, continuing to knock on the door.

“Yeah, I’m here, just uh- Just give me a second, Murph.” Javi sighed, the two of you trying to keep from laughing at your current predicament, wondering how the hell Javi was going to talk you both out of this one.

“What’s the plan, Peña?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge as he carefully turned the knob to the bathroom door.

“To tell Murph to fuck off if he tries to give me shit.” The two of you quietly snorted, feeling a little less guilty than you would have if it wasn’t your wedding day. “You stay here, okay? I’ll take care of him.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he opened the door.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Osita.”

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Javi took a few deep breaths as he ran his hands through his hair, turning the knob to open up his bedroom door to be greeted by an unamused Steve leaning in the door frame.

“What’s up, Murph? We were just, uh-” Javi asked, trying his best to stay casual.

“I fuckin’ knew it. Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you horny bastard.” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Y’all haven’t even made it to the ceremony yet! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ. Everyone’s been lookin’ for y’all. I had a fuckin’ feeling this is what you two were up two, and as your Best Man, I’ll cover for your ass now, but I sure as shit ain’t doin’ this all night for you two rabbits. Now c’mon, Casanova, go get your wife from in there and come outside. Remember that thing y’all gotta do where you actually go get married?” Steve teased, slapping Javi in the chest before shaking his head at his friend, his cheeks pink in embarrassment as his eyes darted to the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a second.” Javi grumbled sheepishly, quietly accepting defeat.

“An actual second, ya hear? Not a horny Javier Peña second, or I swear to God.” Steve groaned, raising an eyebrow at Javi.

“Promise.”

“Alright then. Chop, chop, Mr. Peña. Let’s go get your ass married.” Steve laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder before giving him a little shake and disappearing back down the hallway.

Hearing Steve’s voice and footsteps fade, you slowly peeked your head out of the bathroom door to see Javi standing by himself, head buried in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to see your face, equally embarrassed as his.

“... He knew, didn’t he?” You grimaced, now fully opening the door and walking through to meet Javi on the other side.

“Yup.” Javi sighed, adding an extra emphasis to the “p” with a pop.

“Well… Either Steve has the world’s most unlucky timing, or he just needs to do a better job of minding his business.” The two of you snickered, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared up at Javi. “Or maybe someone needs to stop being such a bad influence.” You teased, poking Javi in the chest.

“Me? I’m the bad influence? Okay.” Javi chuckled, teasing you right back. “Sorry I’m getting married to the hottest woman alive and I can’t help myself. My gorgeous wife is one not making it any easier on me.”

“Still not technically your wife yet, you dork.”

“Close enough.”

Grabbing you by your waist, Javi pulled you flush against chest, tilting his head in for a long, tender kiss- the kind that made heat creep through your cheeks and butterflies churn in your stomach, the kind that made your heart beat a million miles a minute, the kind that seemed to make everything else in the world stand still, even if just for a moment. The kind of kiss that made you know without a single doubt that you had never been more in love than you were at this very moment.

“I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too, Osita.”

“You wanna go get married?”

“Mrs. Peña,” Javi grinned, grabbing your hand to interlock it with his, “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more in my fucking life.”

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3 @chaotic-iguana

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dee-writes-smut · 5 months ago

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LILIES (Chapter Six)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY moving on from Eris is impossible, the grief you carry around is unbearable even with the help of your new (ish) friend Lucien.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), major injuries, labor, brief descriptions of blood, Beron (iykykyk), themes of depression, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves, mentions of eating struggles

AUTHORS NOTE only two more chapters to go until it's all over!! I am so sad to see this amazing experience start to come to an end especially because I treasure each and everyone of you who has enjoyed my writing and decided to come along for the ride. Try not to kill me after this chapter, k? >:)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The days following Eris’s departure were a blur of heartache and despair. Each morning, you woke with the heavy realization that he was truly gone, the emptiness beside you a stark reminder of the love and companionship you had lost. You found yourself drifting through the hours, your mind replaying the moments of your last encounter, the anguish in Eris’s eyes haunting you.

Lucien was a constant presence throughout that week, his concern for you unwavering. He visited your chambers multiple times a day, bringing you meals and ensuring you were taking care of yourself and the baby. Despite your best efforts to hide your pain, Lucien saw through the facade, his keen eyes missing nothing.

“Have you eaten today?” Lucien asked gently one morning as he entered your room, carrying a tray laden with food.

You looked up from where you sat by the window, staring out at the gardens below. The vibrant colors of the flowers seemed muted, the beauty of the world outside failing to penetrate the numbness inside you. “I’m not hungry,” you replied softly, turning your gaze back to the view.

Lucien set the tray down on the small table beside you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “You need to eat,” he insisted, pushing a bowl of fresh fruit toward you. “For the baby’s sake, if not for your own.”

At the mention of your baby, you placed a protective hand over your swollen belly, feeling the gentle flutter of movement beneath your palm. “I know,” you sighed, picking up a piece of fruit and taking a small bite. The flavors were bland, your appetite dulled by the overwhelming sorrow that clouded your mind.

Lucien sat down across from you, his gaze unwavering. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted, his voice filled with genuine concern. “You can’t go on like this. You have to find a way to move forward, for your sake and for the baby’s.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away, unable to meet his compassionate gaze. “I don’t know how,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Everything feels so hopeless without him.”

Lucien reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you realize,” he said softly. “You’ve faced so much already, and you’ve come out the other side. You can do this too.”

Despite his comforting words, the days continued to blend together in a haze of grief. You spent most of your time in your chambers, the outside world seeming distant and unimportant. Lucien’s visits were the only interruptions in your solitary existence, his presence a reminder that you were not entirely alone.

As you sat by the window, your eyes tracing the familiar paths of the garden below, memories of the walks you and Eris used to take together filled your mind. You recalled the way his hand would fit perfectly in yours as you strolled through the winding paths, the conversations that ranged from deep thoughts, insecurities, and fears to light-hearted banter about nothing at all. Those moments had felt like pure magic, a respite from the chaos of the world, and a testament to the bond you shared.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm, golden light, Lucien entered with a gentle knock. “I brought you something special,” he announced, holding up a small box. “I thought it might cheer you up.”

You managed a small smile, appreciating his efforts to lift your spirits. “What is it?”

He opened the box to reveal an assortment of your favorite pastries, the sweet aroma filling the room. “I remember you mentioning these once,” he said, placing the box on the table. “I had the cook make them for you.”

The gesture touched your heart, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of warmth. “Thank you, Lucien,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “You’ve been so kind to me.”

Lucien smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s the least I can do,” he replied. “You’re important to me, and I want to see you happy again.”

Lucien coaxed you out into the gardens the very next week, his persistent kindness finally wearing down your reluctance. At 39 weeks pregnant, every movement was a chore, and you had been experiencing intermittent pains that you brushed off as mere discomfort from carrying your child. The idea of visiting the gardens, a place where you and Eris had built so many memories, filled you with a mix of nostalgia and pain. But Lucien’s gentle urging and genuine concern convinced you to give it a chance.

“Come on,” Lucien said, his voice soft but insistent. “The fresh air will do you good, and the gardens are beautiful this time of year. It might help to clear your mind.”

“I don’t know, Lucien,” you said, placing a protective hand on your swollen belly. “It was our place, where we grew to know and love each other. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Lucien knelt beside you, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know it’s hard. But sometimes revisiting those places can help us heal. You don’t have to say anything, just let the garden work its magic. And I’ll be right there with you.”

You looked into his earnest eyes, seeing the care and concern that had been your lifeline these past few weeks. With a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Lucien helped you up, and you both made your way to the gardens. The sun was warm, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The familiar pathways brought a lump to your throat, each step a painful reminder of the love you had lost.

As you walked, the intermittent pains in your belly became more noticeable, but you brushed them off as mere discomfort from being on your feet. Lucien pointed out various plants and flowers, trying to distract you with light conversation. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself beginning to relax, the beauty of the gardens working its magic as Lucien had promised.

“You know, I’ve always loved this part of the garden,” Lucien said, stopping by a cluster of vibrant roses. “It reminds me of home, of simpler times.”

You managed a small smile, your mind drifting back to the countless times you and Eris had stopped at this very spot, sharing stolen kisses and whispered promises. The memory brought a fresh wave of pain, but also a bittersweet comfort.

Lucien’s voice broke through your thoughts. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m okay,” you lied, wincing as another pain shot through your abdomen. “Just a bit tired.”

Lucien frowned, his sharp eyes noticing your discomfort. “Are you sure? You seem a bit… off.”

You waved off his concern, not wanting to worry him. “It’s just the baby being active, I think. Nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “Alright, but if it gets worse, promise me you’ll let me know.”

“I promise,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

As you continued to walk, the pains grew more frequent and intense, but you were determined to push through. You didn’t want to spoil this moment, this brief reprieve from the constant ache of your heart. But as you neared the center of the garden, where a small fountain gurgled peacefully, the pain became too much to ignore.

Lucien’s eyes widened in alarm as you doubled over, clutching your belly. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with panic.

“I think… I think something’s wrong,” you gasped, the realization finally dawning on you that these weren’t just random pains. “Lucien, I think I’m in labor.”

His face paled, but he quickly sprang into action. “Okay, we need to get you to the medical wing, now.”

As Lucien hurriedly pushed you through the ornate hallways of the palace, aiming for the medical wing, your discomfort escalating with each moment, the last thing either of you expected was to run into Beron. The formidable lord of the Autumn Court was not supposed to be aware of your presence within the palace, a secret Eris had helped to keep. Yet there he stood, emerging from a shadowed alcove, his sharp gaze landing on you with immediate suspicion.

“Lucien, what is this?” Beron's voice cut through the tension, as cold and unwavering as the stone walls that surrounded you. His eyes flicked from you to Lucien, narrowing in displeasure.

Lucien, momentarily taken aback, recovered quickly, his arm instinctively tightening around you as if to shield you from Beron’s piercing gaze. “Father, she needs help. We were just—”

“Who is she?” Beron interrupted sharply, stepping closer. His towering presence felt oppressive, his aura exuding authority and control.

You could see Lucien hesitate, his eyes darting between you and his father, weighing his words. “A friend who requires immediate medical attention,” he attempted to explain, his tone carefully neutral.

Beron’s eyes finally settled on your swollen belly, his suspicion turning into derision. “A friend, or another of your irresponsible entanglements?” His voice was laden with scorn. “We do not run a charity for wayward souls here, nor do we harbor strangers without my knowledge.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened visibly, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Beron cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will not allow it. Remove her from the palace immediately. She is not to receive aid here.”

Panic flared in your chest as you clutched at Lucien's arm, your other hand pressing against the waves of pain that threatened to buckle your knees. “Please,” you managed to gasp out, the effort leaving you breathless, “I need help.”

Beron’s gaze on you was unyielding, his decision firm. “Take her to the city or wherever you wish, but she leaves the palace grounds now. We will not be involved in this farce.”

Lucien, a mixture of anger and desperation painting his features, tried once more. “Father, she’s in labor, she could die if—”

“Not our concern,” Beron interrupted coldly. “You know my rules, Lucien. Now, obey them.”

Defeated and running out of time, Lucien nodded curtly to his father, the resignation in his eyes cutting deeper than any words could. He supported you gently, leading you away from the medical wing and towards the main entrance of the palace. Each step was agony, and your mind raced with fear not only for your unborn child but also for the lack of compassion from someone you had hoped might show even a trace of empathy.

The cool evening air of the Autumn Court hit you as Lucien guided you through the palace gates. The streets seemed darker, more foreboding than ever before, and as you stepped into the unknown, supported by Lucien, the harsh reality of your situation settled heavily upon your shoulders. You were alone, vulnerable, and in desperate need of care, cast out by the very power that ruled the land you now walked upon.

Lucien's steps quickened through the dimly lit streets of the Autumn Court, each of his movements marked by a desperate urgency as he supported your faltering steps. The pain rippled through you with increasing intensity, a relentless tide that drained your strength and muddied your thoughts.

"Please, Lucien, I can't," you gasped, the sharp spasms of labor gripping you tightly, forcing you to a sudden, halting stop. Your hands clung to him, your body bent in agony.

Lucien’s face was a mask of concern, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of help. "Just a bit further, we’ll find someone, a healer—anyone." His voice was strained, a thin veneer of calm barely concealing the panic beneath.

You shook your head, each movement a stab of pain. "No, I—I need Eris. Please, Lucien, find Eris. I can't do this without him," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat of your brow.

Lucien hesitated, his gaze torn between you and the path ahead. "I don't know where he is," he admitted, his voice cracking with frustration. "And we don’t have time—he might be miles away."

But the pain was overwhelming, and in a heartbeat, your legs gave way, pulling both of you down into the gritty cold of an alleyway’s cobblestones. You collapsed against the hard ground, the rough edges biting into your skin, Lucien scrambling to cushion your fall.

"I can't walk anymore," you cried out, the words a choked sob. "Please, just go. Find him. Leave me, I can't—"

"No!" Lucien's response was vehement, his hands gripping yours tightly. "I won't leave you alone like this." His eyes darted desperately from your pain-contorted face to the empty street. There was no one, no help in sight, and the realization of your isolation seemed to settle heavily upon him.

He rushed you to every shop down the street, dragging you along as best he could, but it was late, and the few healers he could think of were not answering, their shops closed, their homes silent.

"Please, Lucien, you have to go—find Eris," you begged again between contractions, your voice barely above a whisper now.

Lucien looked down at you, agony etched across his features, torn between his instinct to stay and protect you and the desperate plea in your eyes. Finally, with a heavy heart, he nodded, squeezing your hand one last time. "I’ll find him," he promised, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Hold on, just hold on."

With that, Lucien stood, casting one last look at you lying vulnerable and writhing in pain, before turning and running back towards the palace, leaving you alone under the shadow of the night, hoping against hope that he could bring back Eris in time...

Alone and in agony in the shadow-strewn alleyway, you lay curled on the unforgiving cobblestones. Each contraction was a fierce, unrelenting wave of pain, tightening its grip around you, pushing you to the edge of consciousness. But now, an even more terrifying sensation joined the physical torment—a warm trickle of blood that stained your legs, a stark and frightening indicator of how dire your situation had become. Your skin, once flushed with the warmth of life, now felt clammy and cold, your body sweating despite the chill in the air.

Your mind, a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, relentlessly circled back to Eris—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the gentle timbre of his voice when he shared his deepest insecurities and dreams. The ache for his presence was overwhelming, engulfing every other sensation. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the grime of the alley, each one a testament to your regrets and the secrets you had kept hidden—most of all, the truth about Lucien being the father of your child. This secret had fractured the foundation of your relationship with Eris, driving a wedge between what could have been and what was.

Amid the despair, you made a silent, fervent vow. If you made it through this night, you would cast aside all shadows of deceit. Lucien would hear the truth about everything, and you would pray for Eris’s forgiveness and understanding. Determination to no longer live behind the veil of secrets fortified your resolve.

Raising your head with great effort, blurred by pain, your gaze fell upon a small miracle—a cluster of purple lilies pushing through a crack in the cobblestones. Their vibrant petals stood out defiantly against the oppressive grey of the alley, a splash of color in the darkness. These flowers, thriving against all odds in such an inhospitable environment, became a beacon of hope for you. Their resilience was inspiring, their beauty a stark reminder of life’s persistence even in the most unforgiving circumstances.

You clung to the sight of the lilies, letting them anchor you through the waves of pain. They became a symbol of your own will to endure, to persist through the darkness and fear that enveloped you. Each painful contraction was met with a whispered promise into the chilly night air—promises of honesty, of love reborn, of a future where shadows would no longer darken your path.

In that desolate alley, under the dim glow of distant streetlamps that fought their way through the thick fog, the purple lilies stood as silent witnesses to your struggle. They seemed to encourage you to hold on, to fight through the pain and despair for your unborn child, for Eris, for the chance at a cleansed and open future. With each labored breath, you held onto the hope that Lucien would return swiftly, and that perhaps, he would bring Eris back to your side, in time to mend what had been broken and to welcome a new life together.

As the city's misty tendrils wrapped around the winding alleys, Lucien's footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, each one a thunderous drumbeat in the night. His breath came in ragged gasps, a desperate symphony of exertion and urgency. The dim light of distant streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, a relentless rhythm driving him forward with single-minded determination. The weight of his fear and concern for you hung heavy on his shoulders, urging him to push himself harder, faster, toward the medical wing where he hoped to find help for you.

The narrow streets seemed to blur together as he raced through them, the buildings looming like silent sentinels in the night. Shadows flickered and danced at the edges of his vision, teasing him with glimpses of what lay beyond. Every corner turned, every alley crossed, brought him closer to his destination, but the distance felt insurmountable, the obstacles in his path endless.

His senses were heightened, every sound magnified—the distant cry of a night bird, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the faint echo of footsteps following his own. He dared not look back, for fear of what—or who—he might see.

Every fiber of his being was consumed by a single, relentless thought—to find help for you, to ensure your safety and well-being. With each passing moment, the weight of his fear and concern grew heavier, driving him forward with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

As he rounded a corner, his foot caught on a loose cobblestone, sending him stumbling forward with a sharp curse. But before he could regain his footing, he collided with a shadowy figure that loomed out of the darkness.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as Lucien recoiled, his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped animal. But as the figure stepped forward into the dim light of a nearby streetlamp, Lucien's breath caught in his throat.

"Eris?" he gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. But the figure said nothing, its features obscured by the shadows, before vanishing into the darkness once more.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

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ohtobeleah · 2 months ago

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Logan has been on my mind since Deadpool and Wolverine enough to where I'm finally getting through the rest of the X-men movies. And let me tell you that man needs a hug. For the Logan requests, Logan seems like one that would be told to keep his emotions to himself(being 200 yrs old and all), and not to cry. What if Reader is in the hospital injured where it is serious but they'll be fine, and Logan is just glad Reader is alive and wants to cry but wants to appear strong. Then reader invites him to lay down beside them in the bed and basically tells him it's ok to cry an comforts him as he let's go of his worries

SAME! Except my husband actually sat me down and forced me to watch them.... and Now it's turned into me begging to watch the next movie.

When we look back at Logan's overextended life, we know he's been through a fuck tone of trauma, hurt, loss, and grief. I like to think that although he's incredibly capable of expressing his emotions--with all that turmoil and all that time spent growing up in toxic environments and situations, he's gotten pretty good at remaining neutral in situations others would usually crumble in.

Perhaps you’re Logan's version of Charles Moira McTaggart? You aren't a mutant, you're simply a gifted agent who Logan takes a liking to. The feelings are mutual and everyone knows something is going on. Because no one gets under Logan's skin, not even Wade, like you do, it’s always very buddy-cop when the two of you are together. But the sex is a mirror imagine what that Honda Odessy scene (if you know what I mean)

Logan just stands in the doorway of the hospital room, You're sleeping, or so he thinks. His heartbeat is running rampant in his chest because the sight of you in the bed with all those machines and wires makes his heart ache. The blame is resting heavily on his shoulders as he steps in. Slowly but surely, Logan makes his way to your side. Somewhere he never wants to leave.

“Hi,” You groan as you open your eyes and notice Logan sitting quietly beside your bed in one of those really uncomfortable armchairs. “You look like shit.”

“Looks who’s talkin?” Logan replied. It’s only when you turn your head do you see the tears streaming down his aged face. Years of torture, years of pain written in the lines on his beautiful face. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that right?” Logan admits as he lets out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “You almost died in my arms.”

“Not the worst way to go out,” You chuckle through the pain as you move over in the hospital bed. “Come here, you big softy.”

“I–” Logan tries to commute what you’re saying, but his mind doesn’t register the kindness. “What?”

“Come, lay down with me? I’m alright Logan,” You explain as he stands, carefully sitting down beside you only to lay right beside you. “Were you crying?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Is what you’re met with as Logan wraps you in his arms. The gentle kiss he places against your temple tells you a different story altogether. “You scared me, that’s all.”

But you know just by the way Logan holds you so close, with every ounce of love he has in his body, that it’s much more than that.

“I won’t tell anyone you know,” You mumble as you allow yourself to relax in the safety and full security of Logan’s warm embrace. “If you were?” You follow up. The pad of Logan’s thumb runs along your forearm, shaking softly as he tries to fight against the emotions running through his nervous system. “But for the record, you aren’t a robot Logan, emotions are valid, let them out.”

And so Logan breaks, he allows the tears to stream down his face as he kisses you tenderly. Holding you close because he thought for a few hours there that he wouldn’t get to hold you again.

“Ever scare me like that again and you and I are gonna have problems,” Logan growls, but you know what he means when a sob rips through his chest. So you reply with what he needs to hear at that moment. And you mean every word.

“I love you too.”

#captainmoonknight #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men fanfiction #logan wolverine #wolverine fanfiction

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wildernessuntothemselves · 5 months ago

Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 4

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, breast play, humping, slight somnophilia, switch!reader, switch!beomgyu, mentions of past rape, yandere!beomgyu, reader gaslighting herself

He is lying on his side with his arms wrapped around you, staring at you, while you lay on your back, one hand on his arm draped over your chest and your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been lying like this since your alarm went off, waking you so you can start getting ready for work, though you think Beomgyu may have been awake even earlier.

Your middle finger traces a small line over a vein on the back of his arm, feeling the warmth there as if you can feel his life’s blood. His grip on you is steady, confident, and he never takes his eyes off you.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” You ask softly, voice heavy with sleep. You don’t elaborate on what you mean, and Beomgyu doesn’t ask for it.

“No.” Comes his quick reply. ”Because just being here with you like this… It makes it all worth it.”

You finally turn to look at him, and your heart swells up in your chest. You love him so much. Despite everything, you love him.

“Call in sick for me.” You tell him and he jumps at the opportunity, not hesitating for a second. He grabs your phone and dials your work, making up some bullshit story about you being sick and needing to stay home. You’re usually a dedicated worker despite the grief Beomgyu brings you–because of the grief Beomgyu brings you. The harder he makes it for you, the more you want to hold onto your job because it gives you independence from him and prevents you from being completely codependent on each other the way you know he desires and the way you find yourself secretly wishing you were when things get very tough and all you can think about is being wrapped up by him, protected and cared for and safe from the horrible, cruel world that causes you so much pain and suffering. Because why go out there to fight every day when you can be with him and let him take care of everything?

But then you force yourself to push these thoughts away and act like a grown-up because despite your immense love for Beomgyu, you're not stupid enough to hang your entire future on a man in this day and age. Yes, he loves you but you’re sure all the women who made that mistake before you were also in love. Or at least you like to think you're not that stupid…But for today you’ll let him win. For today you’ll see what the alternative is.

Beomgyu ends the call with your boss with a toothy smile on his face. He looks excited, like you’ve given him the best present ever and he jumps back in to take you in his arms, kissing the side of your face.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks and you shrug, throwing the question back to him. “What do you want to do?”

“I just want to be with you.” He admits and your heart clenches.

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving” You tell him and he’s so excited he doesn’t even whine at your lack of reply to his loving proclamation.

________________________________

Beomgyu makes sure to make the food for you. He keeps apologizing for not having a lot of materials to work with and lamenting the fact that he can’t make this dish or that dish as if you were expecting some extravagant feast.

“Beomgyu, it’s just breakfast.” You reassure him but he shakes his head. “I want to give you the best. Do you want to go eat out? There is this really good restaurant 20 minutes away.”

When he tells you the name of the restaurant, you frown. “Isn’t that place really expensive?”

He shrugs. “Only the best for my princess.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need something fancy, Beomgyu. Pancakes are fine.”

He frowns at that, seemingly upset that you don’t want the expensive restaurant. What’s the deal with him? Sometimes you think he dislikes that you don’t want him to spend his money on you.

Still, in order to make him stop fretting, you say, “Being with you is enough.”

That makes him light up, and he is suddenly content with pancakes too.

“It looks nice outside. Maybe we can pack up some lunch and go for a picnic?” You suggest and he perks up even more. “Yeah. We've got some cold cuts I can make into sandwiches and we can grab some cupcakes or muffins on the way.”

He sounds very excited about getting to spend the day like this with you and it makes you both happy that you've made him so excited by such a small thing but also sad that he has probably been feeling a bit neglected by you recently as you pulled away from him due to everything that’s going on with the dreams and Taehyun.

Well, today you'll make it up to him. Today, you'll set all your worries aside and just enjoy the day with your loving boyfriend.

“Sounds good.”

___________________________________

Beomgyu made way too much food for the picnic and he insisted on preparing everything all by himself, wanting to pamper you. Maybe he himself also feels guilt over not stopping when you asked him to but in a way that makes you feel even worse. He didn’t know that you were serious and you’re no stranger to playfully whining for the other to stop when you’re messing around–even you have done it to him before–so you understand why he didn’t immediately stop. He must feel awful about it. You may be having issues with Beomgyu but that doesn’t mean that he would ever hurt you in that way. You’re his entire life and it's unfair to him to be having these disturbing thoughts, even if you can't control them.

Maybe you just need to agree on a safe word so this doesn’t happen again… if you can even get yourself to get over your irrational trepidation every time you think about having sex with him now that is.

“Beomgyu, I can feed myself.” You roll your eyes when he tries to put a sandwich to your mouth and push his hand away, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu at the action. For some reason, the most random actions you or Beomgyu do feel like something you’ve done before. Every moment feels like you’ve lived it before and it’s freaking you out. You secretly worry that you’re losing your mind.

He pouts, looking deflated at the small rejection. “I know. I just want to take care of you.”

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You say again and he puts the food down, looking even more dejected at that.

You sigh and open your arms. “Come here, Gyu.”

He eagerly gets into your embrace, laying his head down on your chest and letting you wrap your arms around him.

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his scent and feeling it soothe your anxiety like a healing balm. “I don't need all of this. I just need you. The you that I love, and not this crazy possessive guy that scares me.”

“And I only ever want you.” He looks up at you, his eyes sad. “If I can be sure that you'll only ever be mine, I wouldn't act so crazy.”

You want to argue with him, get angry that he's asking you to prove your loyalty to him as if you had cheated on him, but you also know that what you feel for Taehyun isn't completely innocent and it would be hypocritical of you to act like his worries are completely irrational.

You sigh, looking at the park around you. You were at one of your favorite parts by the lake. Though it is a little hard to enjoy with so many people around, kids screaming and guys jokingly cussing each other out. You wish it would just be you and Beomgyu here.

“You know these grounds once belonged to the royal family.” You tell Beomgyu, “Imagine having all this beauty to yourself. Wouldn't that have been wonderful?”

“I suppose so.” He mumbles unenthusiastically but you keep going. “Their lives must've been so easy. Eating good food, dressing in fancy clothes, sipping tea in their huge ass gardens…”

“I'm sure they had their struggles.” Beomgyu interjects and you snort. “Yeah right. Their struggles of where to spend all that money.”

“They didn't control their own decisions. They were trapped in what everyone else expected of them. They didn't choose what to wear, who to hangout with, what they want to do with their lives or even who to marry.”

Beomgyu's sudden speech gives you pause. “Damn I didn't know you were so passionate about royal life.”

Is he saying that because he wants to discourage you from talking about the prince dreams again? Well, you weren’t planning to mention them to him anymore, not after how twisted and ugly they’re become.

He falters, seeming to realize how odd it was for him to get worked up over your silly complaints. “It's just… things aren't always what they seem.”

“I suppose. I mean I hear that their lives were filled with deceit and betrayal, like killing each other for power and shit. I'd rather be poor and alive, thanks.” You finally say to lighten up the mood and he smiles, thankfully playing along. “I want you alive too.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “I admit it's not one of my best lines.”

“Well, good thing I got you some love poems to learn from.” You declare, pulling out the book you brought along to the picnic.

“You just want to hear my sexy ass voice narrating your favorite poems.” He calls you out and you don’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. What, I can't take advantage of my sexy boyfriend?”

“You can take advantage of me all you want, baby.” He says greasily and you pretend to gag. “Stick to the poems, loverboy. Don't waste your voice on these corny lines.”

“Yes, princess.” He grins, grabbing the book from your hand and flopping his head on your lap so you can play with his hair while he reads your favorite poems.

Sitting there, with the love of your life in your arms, his deep voice reading out words of love and longing from the most gifted poets and writers of the world, you feel lucky. How could you not when those words that have moved millions over decades and centuries, driving them to long for a love just like that, feel like your reality.

The love you have with Beomgyu is what those poems are written about. Yes, it can be dark and scary, but it can also be so, so beautiful. Just like now, with him sneaking glances at you in between every proclamation of love and adoration he reads off, as if his eyes can’t help but jump to you at every reminder, seeking the sight of the exact love they’re reading about.

Yes, doing this was the right choice. You feel so happy and content right now, the sunshine beaming down at the both of you and warming up your skin can’t even compete with the internal warmth and love you feel holding Beomgyu at this moment. This is perfect. This is where you belong. And this is just what he’s trying to make sure lasts right? He acts crazy sometimes because he knows this love is too rare and special to lose, right?

But the feeling of peace and happiness doesn’t last forever, and an unexpected gloom arrives in the form of one of your favorite poems–Annabelle Lee. Sure, it’s a sad and deeply moving poem but you didn’t anticipate the way it was going to affect Beomgyu.

It all starts off normally, his rich voice setting the perfect tone for the beautiful poem as you play with his soft locks, running them through the fingers of one hand while the other gently massages his scalp.

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

You smile to yourself as you look down at Beomgyu. It’s funny how that’s just what you were thinking–that all that matters is the love you share between the two of you. You bend down to press a kiss to his forehead, and giggle at the way he unconsciously lifts his head up to get closer to your lips.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

Then he hesitates, pausing as he reaches the last line, and you have to nudge him gently to get him to keep going. You see his eyebrows knit together in a perturbed frown but he continues for you.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

You try to smoothen the lines that formed between Beomgyu’s thick eyebrows but even another kiss to the troubled lines are of no use as his focus was now entirely on the book in front of him. His anxiety was palpable and infectious, and a strange sense of doom creeps up on your protective bubble.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Beomgyu's voice turned hoarse and patchy as he carried on, and you feel a prickling at the back of your throat as a profound and all consuming grief that you've never felt before and don’t think you have the capacity to contain threatens to engulf you. You hold onto him tighter, suddenly terrified. It’s silly. You’ve read this poem more times than you can remember, and sure it always moved you and made you sad, but it never caused you such gut-wrenching pain as it was doing right now. Whatever misery the poem was triggering in Beomgyu was transferring directly to you through your skin and suddenly the poet was Beomgyu and you were Anabelle Lee–he’d lost you and you can only sit there and watch him suffer and waste away as he cries over you.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beomgyu's voice breaks completely as he utters ‘my life and my bride’ and by the time he finishes the poem, he is openly crying. You’re crying too, and hugging him tightly to you. You’re sure you’re both making quite the spectacle of yourselves but you don’t care. You hold him so tightly your fingers turn white and numb, and he does the same. The sense of loss that is filling you up is so intense and vivid, it's as if you've lived it. You’re scared that if you let him go, you’ll be taken away from him just like in the poem.

“Why–” He sobs into your chest, his cries rattling your already injured heart. “Why did they have to be ripped apart?”

“I don't know, baby.” You bend down to kiss his sweet lips, not really knowing what to say but wishing to calm him down–calm yourself down and try to shake off the irrational fear that something like this is going to happen to you. “Sometimes life is just cruel.”

“No. I can't accept that.” He says resolutely, sitting up to face you and reaching out to hold your face in his hands. “Promise you'll never let anyone or anything take you away from me.”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please…” His voice shudders as he tries to speak through his tears. “I can't lose you.”

“Oh, baby.” You sigh, reaching out to wipe the sparkling tears off his face. Oh, how you'll say and do anything for this beautiful boy.

“I promise.”

_______________________________

When you get back to work the following day, Taehyun corners you in the back room as soon as he gets the chance.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice and you look at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“You called in sick yesterday.” His eyes narrow, already suspicious.

“Oh, right.” You remember Beomgyu calling in sick for you, and you try to brush off his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Taehyun doesn’t let your small slip up pass, now probably convinced there was some malicious reason behind your absence. “Are you sure? Beomgyu didn’t do anything weird, did he?”

His question pisses you off, perhaps because you already feel so guilty towards Beomgyu for your unjustifiable aversion to being physical to him because of your dreams, but you certainly don’t want Taehyun to think Beomgyu is abusing you or something. “No, he didn’t. He took care of me all day yesterday.” You say sharply and Taehyun winces, realizing he has gotten off on the wrong foot with you and that you’re no longer tolerant of him denigrating your boyfriend’s image to you.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly backs down, which is unusual for him, and you feel a twinge of sorrow for going off on him like that. He was just worried about you, but still, he was inadvertently part of the reason you and Beomgyu are having issues and you can’t help but feel frustrated and resentful about that.

“Whatever.” You try to brush him off and get back to the main work area but he is not done talking.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He goes on, stopping you in your tracks and you sigh. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

"Can we start over?"

You stare at him, seeing the hope in his eyes and it brings you nothing but pain. “I’m not sure we can.”

Maybe in another world you and Taehyun may have been something–in a world where you met him before you met Beomgyu, maybe. But you would be acting wilfully ignorant if you went back to your budding friendship with Taehyun. Because you know it upsets Beomgyu. Because you know it wouldn’t be just an innocent friendship and that there is more at play here. You need to nip it all in the bud before it grows out of control and suffocates your actual, real relationship with Beomgyu.

You’re loyal to your boyfriend. Whatever strange and inexplicable feelings you hold for Taehyun should be abandoned and forgotten, and they can’t be if you keep being such buddies-buddies with him.

His face falls at your response and you think you can detect an edge of anger to his voice. Why the hell is he angry? He has no right to be upset with you for setting boundaries in order to protect your relationship. “I was out of line. I get it. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“It can't.” You affirm, getting angry yourself. “I'm dating Beomgyu. I love Beomgyu.”

Though Taehyun is usually good at managing his facial expressions, you can clearly see the way his face twists in pain at your proclamation. This is exactly why you have to stay away from each other.

“I know that.” He says through gritted teeth. “Believe me I don’t want to be having these feelings as much as you do, but I can’t control it. There is something drawing us together and I know you can feel it too.”

“Oh, come on, Taehyun, now you sound delusional like me.” You scoff, berating yourself as much as him. You’ve let this delusion get too far. “Next thing you’ll be saying you’re having dreams of us in a past life too.”

“Don’t mock me.” He scowls, the hurt still plainly clear on his face no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it with his unjustifiable temper.

You sigh again. This is not a fight you want to get into. It’s over. You have to end this. “I am not mocking you. But I can’t let whatever this is ruin what I have with the man I love.”

At that, Taehyun turns and walks away wordlessly, and a deep wound opens up in your chest as you watch him leave. You do your best to ignore it. Just as suddenly and inexplicably these feelings developed for Taehyun, you’re sure they will pass away and everything will return back to normal. This is all just a result of the doubts that have been plaguing you about Beomgyu. It’s just your mind coming up with weird feelings and scenarios that mean nothing. Soon enough, you and Beomgyu will be living in mutual bliss like before and you’ll forget about this whole nightmare.

_______________________________

Beomgyu is holding back. You can see it. He tries to keep his desires in check so he doesn't hurt you again without meaning to. He doesn’t want to rush you but you can tell he is suffering.

You can feel the way he reluctantly pulls away when his kisses get heated. You can see the way he averts his eyes when you wear something too revealing around the house. You can hear him when he sneaks to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself.

And you can definitely feel it now in the way his unconscious body ruts against yours in his sleep.

“Beomgyu…” You call out, mouth dry as you feel his cock grinding against your ass.

“Princess…” He moans at the sound of you calling his name, his hips driving into your ass harder, still asleep. “Need you…”

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected too. You need him too. Your body naturally reacts to his, panties already getting wet as his bulge grinds between your legs. But you still haven’t been able to shake those disturbing images and feelings out of your head completely, especially not when he calls you princess. The word now carries an unexpected negative association for you.

“Princess, please…” He cries in your ear, his fingers digging into your stomach. “Oh god, please.”

It makes you feel so fucking guilty to hear how desperate and needy he sounds, unconscious and unable to hold himself back like has been doing so many times recently. You want so bad to help. You want to push him on his back and ride his cock until he’s satiated and happy like he always gets when you fuck him, but you’re not sure you can.

“Wake up.” You urge him, torn between the heat gathering in your belly and the suffocating feeling of being trapped in his hold. You want to help him–you want to help yourself–but you’re fucking scared that it would trigger those horrific images once again.

But Beomgyu only whines and drives his hips into your harder. “My princess…”

“Beomgyu, wake up.” You call out once again, much more firmly this time, and he finally jolts awake, sitting up so he’s now hovering over you and checking you over.

“Wha–what?” His first instinct is to make sure you’re safe and unharmed, looking over your body and touching you slightly all over to confirm you’re not injured. Then the confusion comes in–why do you have that look on your face?--but that only lasts a few seconds before the realization finally kicks in and his face crumbles in dismay. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I've just been–”

“Needy? Yeah, I can feel that.” You push your thigh between his legs, trying to push away your unwanted feelings. He was so panicked about you being hurt that it all just makes you feel that much more guilty. Beomgyu would never hurt you. It was all in your head, and you want to get rid of it. You want to allow yourself to feel the love of your boyfriend again.

“Oh, princess, I missed you so much.” He falls right into it, humping your leg just like you expected. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so weak.”

“Aw, puppy…” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face so you can take a good look at the pathetic look on his face that you love so much. It sends a fucking jolt of electricity down to your already heated core.

“It has barely been a couple of weeks.” You reprimand as if your panties weren’t rapidly getting wet right now. But Shame isn’t in Beomgyu’s vocabulary anyway. “A couple of weeks of having you right next to me and not being able to touch you. It was torture.”

He pushes your nightshirt up and buries his face in your tits. You almost laugh, of course this would be the first thing the pervert does. Except what comes out of your mouth are not laughs but moans as his mouth quickly finds one of your nipples to wrap around.

“Fuck, I missed these tits.” He mumbles, voice muffled as he continues to kiss and suck all over your breasts, making your back arch up into his touch and small whines escape your lips.

“Good boy, gyu.” You whine, fingers pulling ruthlessly at his hair that you’re usually so careful and gentle with as he pulls your other nipple in his mouth and sucks harshly. Your hips thrust up against his body as you seek some relief from the liquid heat dripping out of you.

He quickly notices and one of his hands sneaks between your legs to cup your soaked panties. He pulls off your nipples with an obscene pop, smirking cockily. “Looks like I'm not the only needy one here.”

You can't do anything but bite your lip as his palm kneads your sensitive pussy, your teeth tearing into the soft skin as you try to hold in your own needy moans. But Beomgyu doesn’t like that. He uses his other hand to pull your lip away from your teeth and push his thumb in so he has your mouth open and nothing in the way of the salacious noises he craves.

“Beomgyu…” You slur, struggling to talk with his thumb pushing down on your tongue but it's clear from the way you push your pussy further against his hand what you want.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” He asks, his eyes raking up and down from your flushed face to your exposed tits as you arch your body up, seeking your high against his hand.

“Uh-huh.” Drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth that is still held open by Beomgyu before he finally removes his thumb from your mouth and uses it to flick and pull at your perked nipple.

That extra bit of stimulation makes you cry and jolt as your orgasm comes crashing down like a wave onto your poor deprived body. If your panties were wet before, you're sure that now they've drenched and staining the sheets under you.

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He focuses on your face as the embarrassingly wet sounds of him continuing to palm your pussy through it all fill the room.

He doesn't stop until after your body is no longer convulsing and just settling into a sluggish tremble as your slack open mouth lets out small, hoarse moans.

Finally he stops, bending down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into open mouth and his hand wrapping around your jaw to get you to wrap your lips around it. You sluggishly respond, your mind still blank from the intense pleasure you just experienced. You didn’t even realize how much you'd missed his touch until now.

But it's not over yet. You may have gotten what you needed but he is still as needy as he was before–even more so after the little show you put on for him, and you can feel exactly how much when pulls your soaked panties to the side to press his bare cock against your pussy.

But as soon as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, your body seizes up in terror and your mind goes into overdrive with image after image of that horrible nightmare.

“No!” You shriek, trying to close your legs and push him away but you can't because he's lying between your legs and you only succeed in pulling him closer to you which freaks you out even more and you start sobbing. “No. Please, no.”

“What? What happened? What did I do?” He freaks out too. It must be such a whiplash for him. Everything was going so well and he probably doesn't understand what caused your sudden breakdown, but it's not like you can explain it to him when you don't even understand it yourself.

All you know is that you don’t want him to stop so you just cry and shake your head. “Don't. Please, don't.”

The blood drains from his face as he helplessly watches you descend further and further into this unprovoked mental break. “Baby, what's wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

He tries to reach out to calm you down but you finally manage to push him off you and scramble off the bed. “Stay away.”

You pull your night shirt down to cover yourself. You feel disgusted, tainted, used. Why is this happening to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Princess, please. Talk to me.” He pleads, and you can see his fists clutching tightly onto the bedsheets in order to hold himself back from leaping off the bed and taking you in his arms like you know he is dying to. That's his natural response. It's what his body and heart compel him to do. When you're hurt and in pain, that's what he does–he holds you, kisses you, comforts you, reassures you until you forget everything that has hurt you because nothing in heaven or on earth can get through him. He would never let anything hurt you. But how can he do that when he's the one who is hurting you? How can he protect you from himself?

“You're killing me, baby.” He weeps, distraught and not knowing what to do with himself when he doesn’t even know how he's hurt you. “Please, please, tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

How can you say it? It's too cruel. If he's upset and miserable now, you don't want to think about what he'd be like if you revealed to him that the reason you have been withdrawing from him and reacting so negatively to his touch was because of the terrible disgusting images your fucked up brain decided to randomly conjure up and that he had no control over. It wasn't his fault and you were basically treating him like a rapist.

But Beomgyu will not let it go. How can he when he can't even touch you without you reacting like he had burned you? He has to know. He deserves to know it's not his fault.

“It's… the dreams.” You start, finding it difficult to talk through your parched throat. Your eyes flutter all over his face, searching for the smallest reaction to your words. You know he won't take it well–and you can't blame him. This is why he was so wary of the dreams. He didn't want them to infect your real life and now they have completely infested your brain.

“I had an awful dream that you… that you..” You break down crying again. You don't want to say it. You don't want to break him twice. The worst thing is that they weren’t even just dreams anymore. It was like you were recalling actual memories. They come to you while you’re fully awake now. There is no escape and you don’t know what to do.

“That I what?” He asks, voice so shallow with fear that it's barely a whisper.

“That you… forced yourself on me.” You finally say it and the color drains completely from Beomgyu's face. “I tried so hard to push those images away. I know you would never do that to me but every time we touch–”

“I got it.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear anymore. Beomgyu never shuts you up. He always wants to hear you talk–to hear every thought that crosses your mind. He soaks them all up whether good or bad. This is the first time he's ever had enough and that scares you more than anything. Is this how you ruin your relationship? Is this the final straw?

“Oh god, Beomgyu, I'm sorry.” You can hardly see through your tears so you walk closer to him, your need to be comforted by him, to know he still loves you, finally overpowering the heinous images in your brain.

But your heart rips in half when Beomgyu flinches away from your touch. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry.” You repeat, holding your arms out slightly from your body, waiting for Beomgyu to slot his own between them where they belong, selfishly needing him to make you feel better about everything when you’re the one who hurt him. “I'll do better. I will force myself to get through this. Just please…”

“Okay.” Beomgyu replies emotionlessly and gets off the bed and away from you.

“Where are you going?” You ask him, terrified. “Are you leaving? I'm sorry, I swear. Forget about everything I said. I'll do whatever you want, just please–”

You walk towards him, reaching out to grab the top of his pants, intent on doing anything to make him stay but he pushes you off, disgust etched on his face. “No. Don't touch me.”

You knew those words hurt him when you said them to him before but you couldn't have imagined just how much, but as you stand now with those same words directed at you, it takes every fiber of you being not to hunch over from the agony they inflict on you. You never thought those wretched words would ever come out of Beomgyu's mouth–no, not your Beomgyu. And it's all your fault.

“Please, don't leave me.” You cry, and Beomgyu looks at you in shock. “Leave? I told you I would never leave you.”

That brings you some comfort, but it's not complete as he continues to stand far away from you, and you make sure to tell him as much.

“Then come hold me.” You ask petulantly. Is it hypocritical of you to demand physical closeness from him when you had before pushed him away when he was in your shoes? Yes, but you don't care. You just want him to stay and put your heart back together before you bleed out.

“I need space. I need to think.” He says and you shake your head resolutely. “There is nothing to think about. I want you to stay.”

He gives you a smile so ingenuine it looked more like a grimace. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Don't walk out on me, Beomgyu.” You tell him, a threatening edge to your voice. Threatening what? You don't know. What are you going to do, sulk until he comes back?

And he knows it too because he just shakes his head and tells you to get some sleep before he walks out. You scream after him, probably waking up all the neighbors but you don't care.

“Beomgyu! Come back! You're just gonna leave me here like this, you fucking asshole?” You scream and scream until your throat raw but he doesn’t come back, and with the last bit of your energy spent on your screams, you crumble to the ground and curl up into a ball–your knees pressed up to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them–trying to staunch off your hemorrhaging heart as your world falls away around you.

_________________________________________

A/N: this will always remain my comfort fic despite how dark it can be. i will never get over this. anyway let me know your thoughts and depending on the result of this poll, the next chapter may be the last one or there will be one more chapter.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #tomorrow x together smut #yandere #take care that i said who do you want her to choose #not who will she end up with lmao #there is a difference

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maximoffwitch · 3 months ago

Text

Heart on Fire: Chapter 4 (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

chapter summary: You wake up from surgery, your body littered with fresh scars, and Wanda has some realizations.

warnings: canon typical violence, talk of grief

word count: 1.7k

a/n: oh my god...two years later and the final chapter (not including the epilogue) is here! thank you to everyone that has stuck with me and i am so sorry that i left this series hanging for such a long time :') i hope it was worth the wait?? p.s. this was not proofread lol so ignore any mistakes

SERIES MASTERLIST

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Groaning, you opened your eyes to blindings lights.

“(Y/N)?”

You blinked several times, trying to adjust to consciousness.

“Where am I?” You croaked, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

“You’re in the med bay of the Avengers tower.”

You turned towards the voice, wincing at the pain that shot down your back.

“Wanda?” You moved to get up, but her hand on your arm stopped you.

“Don’t move,” she warned as she brought a straw to your mouth. “Here, drink some water.”

Too tired to protest, you took a few sips, the lukewarm water soothing your dry throat.

After placing the cup back on the side table, Wanda turned her attention back to you.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she whispered, gently brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Wanda asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to recall the events that landed you here.

“All I can remember is fighting off some HYDRA agents and then a bright flash of red,” you admitted.

“You saved me,” Wanda mumbled as she played with a loose thread on your blanket.

Wanda was too busy fighting off three HYDRA soldiers to notice the large canon-like weapon being aimed at her.

“Wanda!” She heard you scream, her eyes widening when you grabbed her by the waist.

Wanda watched in horror as your face morphed into a tortured scream and you dropped to the ground.

“(Y/N)!” She screamed, fear building up in her body. Her terror was quickly replaced with anger when she noticed more HYDRA soldiers advancing towards them.

Mustering up the energy she could, Wanda released an immense shock of red energy, sending the soldiers flying in the air. Once she saw the area was clear, she rushed to your side, not bothering to wipe the tears flooding her eyes.

“(Y/N)?” Wanda gingerly cupped your face, resting your head in her lap.

“(Y/N)!” Natasha came sprinting from behind and immediately fell to her knees.

In your state of delirium, you mistook Natasha for your sister. “Sofya?”

Natasha choked back her tears at the name as Wanda’s eyes remained focused on you.

“Nat,” the young witch whispered. “Her back.”

Natasha moved to get a glimpse of your injuries and cringed when she saw. Your back was completely charred, the weapon burning your flesh and leaving a huge open wound in its wake.

“We have to get her to the quinjet.” Natasha cleared her throat, going back into Avenger-mode. “Wanda, you need to move her with your powers. We can’t risk carrying her ourselves and infecting the wound.”

“Okay,” Wanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. The two women ran to the quinjet as quickly as they could with Wanda floating you into the ship.

“What the hell happened?” Steve yelled when he saw your state.

“There,” Wanda hiccuped as she and Natasha cleared a table to put you on. “There was a blast a-and (Y/N) shielded me.”

Sam started the jet and they were soon on their way out of Russia’s winter.

As you faded in and out of consciousness, Wanda set by your side, Natasha hovering close by.

“I’m so cold,” you stuttered weakly. Wanda’s heart clenched, as she knew how warm you ran.

“Shhh,” she cooed, taking your hand in hers. “Save your energy.”

You watched Wanda carefully as she recounted watching you fall to your knees—your back an entirely different color—the painfully quiet quinjet ride, and waiting for you to come out of surgery. Scanning her face, you could tell the other woman had been crying.

After a brief moment of silence, as you soaked in all the information, Wanda whispered, “Why did you save me?”

You frowned at her question. “Did you expect me to just watch you die?”

At that, Wanda had no answer.

“We’re a team, Wanda.” You took her silence as an opportunity to continue. “I knew I would survive the blast. My body handles heat and energy differently. You on the other hand…”

You trailed off as your throat tightened, not wanting to even voice the possibility of what could have happened.

“Plus, I couldn’t let you die without beating you once in sparring,” you huffed in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Wanda’s face remained solemn.

Another moment of stillness passed between the two of you, Wanda examining your face, the fresh stitches across your forehead reminding her of your actions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her raspy voice broke the silence.

“Tell you what?” You frowned, confused as to what she could be talking about.

“About your sister.”

“Who’s Sofya?” Wanda asked her mentor as the two of them waited for you to come out of surgery.

Natasha let out a large sigh, lifting her head from between her knees as she sat upright. “Sofya was (Y/N)’s sister.”

Wanda didn’t miss the way Natasha referred to the girl in the past tense with a twinge of sadness.

“Was?”

Natasha gulped down the knot in her throat. “She died,” she said, clearing her throat. “The Red Room. They killed her.”

Wanda felt her heart ache as she remembered how she snapped at you for bringing up Pietro. You were only trying to help. Thinking back to all her interactions with her, Wanda winced at the way she treated you. Now, as you fought for your life after saving hers, Wanda feared she would never get to apologize or tell you how she truly felt.

“I know you recently lost your brother,” you mumbled tiredly. “I didn’t want to remind you of him if you weren’t ready to talk about it.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment. She took a deep breath and extended the olive branch.

“Does it ever go away?” She asked. “This pain?”

You lifted your hand and gently placed it on top of Wanda’s, which rested on the edge of the bed.

“No, it doesn’t,” you admitted truthfully, causing Wanda’s eyes to widen. “There will always be an ache of grief within you, reminding you what you’ve lost and what could’ve been.”

You paused with a fond smile, the images of your sister flashing before your mind.

“But that grief is just all the love you carry with you, because what is grief is not love persevering.”

Wanda smiled, tears glossing her eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” she said.

“For what?” You frowned as you circled your thumb on the back of her hand.

“For making you think I hated you. For being so cold with you,” she muttered and looked down at your interlaced hands.

“Good thing I’m warm enough to deal with a little chill.” You tried to joke, mustering just enough energy to warm your hand and hers.

“(Y/N), I’m serious,” Wanda scolded, though she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up. “There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. You were always so kind and trying to reach out to me and I just shut you out.

“I was just dealing with a lot of change. First, losing Pietro and joining a team of superheroes in a completely new country. And then just as I was starting to get used to the team, you showed up and it was a lot for me.

“I’m sorry.” She moved her other hand so she was now clasping your hand between hers.

You smiled softly, pulling your hand out of Wanda’s grasp to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

Wanda leaned into your touch, an incredulous glint in her eye. “Why?” She croaked.

Your heart broke hearing the despair and disbelief in Wanda’s voice. Forgiveness was so clearly foreign to the witch that the idea of her being worthy of such redemption was one she couldn’t fathom.

“Because I understand being angry with the world and with change. We should not be defined by what has happened to us, and we are all humans who react,” you said. “You are worth of forgiveness, Wanda. And of friendship.”

Wanda searched your eyes, a wave of realization washing over her. “What about love?” She whispered so quietly you barely heard her over the faint buzz of the medical wing.

You furrowed your brows, not understanding her question, as the drugs and injuries clouded your mind. Before you could process what was happening, Wanda was leaning forward and tentatively pressing her lips against yours. You sighed into the contact, Wanda flooding your senses completely. You knew fire and flames but this was a different warmth entirely.

Before either of you could deepen the kiss, a familiar laugh caused the two of you to separate.

“Well, well, well,” Natasha teased as she moved into the room, fast food takeout bags in hand. “What do we have here?”

“Shut up, Romanoff,” you cursed your friend in your mother tongue, rolling your eyes. Wanda quickly sat back in the chair, her cheeks flushed with a rosy tint.

“You two lovebirds finally figure it out?” Natasha plopped down in the other chair across from Wanda.

“Was it that obvious?” Wanda asked sheepishly.

“Please,” Bruce scoffed, interjecting himself into the conversation as he checked your vitals. “You could cut the tension between you two with a knife.”

You went to protest with a snarky quip but before you could, Steve entered the room, a concerned look on his face. “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”

“Better now,” you answered with a dopey grin, sneaking a glance at Wanda, her face warming as the three other Avengers glanced between the two of you.

Steve’s worry turned into amusement as he realized what was going on. “About time, ladies.”

“Shove it, Steve,” you said without any real bite, your energy starting to drain. “Natasha told me how it took you—,”

“Okay,” Natasha quickly interrupted, saving Steve (and herself) from any embarrassment. “I think it’s time to let (Y/N/N) get some rest.”

“But…” You pouted, turning to Wanda with your best puppy eyes. You wanted to spend more time with the other girl—maybe even talk about what that kiss meant—but your eyes had another idea as they began to droop.

“Rest, malyshka.” Wanda stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You hummed contently and let sleep take you, unafraid of the darkness, knowing you were safe.

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @when-wolves-howl @gaywalkersworld @iliketozoneout @lightwhoranoutoflight @bibliophilicbi

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #heart on fire #my writing

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i-hate-accidents · 7 months ago

Note

Would you ever consider writing the conversation Anthony had with Benedict in his bedchamber? When he scolded Ben for being alone with Y/N?

the author would like to share that upon reading your message, they immediately said, out loud, to no one but for herself to hear, "that is a BRILLIANT idea." she offers many thanks for your idea and your generosity in sharing it. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ ✕ ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

i hate accidents: a drabble

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings: brief description of grief from losing a parent

word count: 623

author’s note: the character of y/n, whilst heavily talked about, does not appear in this drabble. the author hopes you enjoy these bickering brothers~

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ ✕ ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

anthony turns towards him, quiet fury simmering in his eyes.

"brother," begins benedict, "i—"

"have you lost your fucking mind!" booms anthony.

"if you just let me explain—"

"have you compromised y/n?"

"what!"

"i said! have you compromised y/n!"

"how can you even insinuate that! of course i have not!"

"and why should i trust what you say?"

"because i am your brother!"

"precisely! you are my brother! you lie to me as naturally as you breathe!"

that is something, benedict admits to himself, i cannot deny.

"well! i have no reason to lie now!" he declares aloud.

"and you expect me to believe that? when i saw your mouth and her mouth mere breaths away from one another?"

lightning shoots throughout benedict’s body and butterflies erupt in his stomach at the memory. the two of you were, indeed, mere breaths away from—— from—

"see," anthony interrupts, "you have nothing to say. are you finally admitting to your guilt?"

"we were discussing my art! that is all!"

"i am not a fool, benedict!"

"you look like one!"

"and you act like one! alone! in your bedchamber! with a lady! our friend! how do you think our family will react when they hear of your impropriety?"

"you make it sound as if this were some, some— devious scheme!"

anthony shakes his head.

"brother, i know you are in love with y/n—"

it would have been kinder if anthony shot him point blank in his chest.

benedict gapes at him, but his brother merely responds with an expression that makes him feel like a naive child.

"benedict, please. your affection for y/n is deeply apparent to everyone in this house. mother, kate, our siblings, the servants, penelope. good god, francesca, daph, and hastings even know, and they are not even here. you," anthony states simply, "are in love."

"i have not said anything of the sort!"

"so what do you mean to say? that you do not love y/n?"

benedict freezes. he feels the swell of his heart and its collapsing all in a mere breath.

of course i do. of course i love y/n.

he swallows.

"it matters not what i feel. it matters what she deserves."

y/n deserves someone good. someone who will not hurt her. someone who is not me.

anthony’s face softens, and it would be an expression that would be kind if benedict didn’t feel as though he was on the receiving end of its pity. still, it reassures him. anthony’s gentleness seemed to have passed when their father had. it seemed to no longer have existed as a possibility within him; and then kate entered their lives. whenever he sees evidence of its restoration, benedict cannot help but feel gratitude—even, as in this moment, at the cost of his own pain.

anthony sighs.

"did you two have to be in your bedchamber?"

benedict rolls his eyes.

"this is where all my art is! but it shan't happen again."

"oh, that i will make certain."

he furrows his eyebrows.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"did you truly think i would let you get away with this indiscretion? you have completely disgraced y/n!"

"nothing! happened!"

"bedchamber! together! ALONE!" anthony checks his pocket watch and, with its closing, resumes a dignified composure. "i am done with this conversation. we have kept y/n waiting long enough. we must go to her promptly, offer our deepest apologies, and ensure that she is safe and well after this event. we will be most fortunate, indeed, if she chooses to absolve us from your transgression."

benedict puts his hands over his face. of all the people in the world, why did his elder brother have to be anthony bridgerton?

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bellewintersroe · 7 months ago

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I DO HAVE A BOB REQ👀 it's heavy angst mixed with a comforting ending, but how would they react (whenever u want but in my faves are Liebgott and Roe) to them thinking their s/o (nurse maybe?) somehow died while saving someone or similar, but actually she managed to escape and run and she reconnects with the battalion a few days later? all battered and bruised but still alive EVEN BETTER IF SHE TAKES TO SAFETY THE PERSON SHE WAS HELPING because imagining them seeing their girl that they thought was dead coming back quite literally from hell alive is AGH💘

I LOVEEEE THIS!!! Thank you Anon I’m excited to write this <3 <3

Warning: mentions of death, grief, war, wounds, etc.

Easy Boys x EasyNurse! Reader - How They React To You Going MIA.

Gene Roe:

- Gene knew (thinks) you were in the church as soon as he watched the bomb explode.

- He kinda freezes and he literally feels his insides running cold and a sickness go through him.

- Can’t be real, I can’t express the level of trauma, pure horror and devastation he feels in that moment. It doesn’t end, the whole time he fully thinks you’re gone. It doesn’t help that the rest of the company are questioning him and going through their own grief for your loss.

- He wants to escape it as much as possible but he knows he can’t. He feels like a statue, completely glued to his foxhole, he runs on autopilot and Winters is about to send him off the line.

- I feel like Gene would have a pretty bad breakdown (understandable) when he’s by himself so he’s not showing the full affects of what he believes is your loss.

- doesn’t help he has absolutely NO answers. He plays the moment over and over again, torturing himself by picturing your last moments, imagining himself being just an hour earlier and getting you out of that church.

- Gene even wished he was with you when that damn bomb went off.

- 3 days pass and Gene’s sat in his foxhole, alone, staring at the enemy line. He’s near enough given up, no gloves, no blanket, he can’t eat, cant sleep.

- “Doc, Captain Winters needs you, pronto.”

- He literally feels like a zombie walking to where he’s needed. All he can think of is you, it’s painful, he can literally feel his chest yearning and breaking and his grief is too much.

- “Yeah we found her running around with the I-company boys, got a little lost, didn’t ya’ nurse?” A man’s words cause Gene’s ears to prick. He can’t see anything but a taller man facing Winters and Nixon with a smaller figure, blanket huddled over- you.

- Ugh- feels like his hearts about to explode. Literally freezes and thinks he’s going to be sick. His heart accelerates and when he hears your voice he quite literally feels faint.

- “got caught up with a patient there!” You turn around, sending a presence and both of you feel the intense hit of shock to be confronted with one another again. “Excuse me a minute…”

- All of a sudden you’re limping towards Gene. Your forehead is covered with 2 butterfly plasters and you have a nasty bruise under your right eye. Gene thinks he’s seen a ghost.

- Probably hesitates for a moment before you pull him aside, away from where the other men can see. “Gene.” You’d soothe and he’d let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

- Crashes into you. Literally grips you so tightly, he feels like he can’t breathe, his eyes are teary and it’s not until you let out a small yelp that he pulls back.

- “It’s okay, it’s fine Gene, it’s just a bruise.” Hearing your voice sends him into a spiral and he’s even more careful now to pull you close.

- Holds a hand to the back of your head, practically cradles you with wide eyes.

- “I thought- I thought you was dead.” He admitted.

- “No, I got caught up with a patient. After the church got bombed I managed to pull a patient out, Billy from I company- got lost on their lines for a few days, they took me in.”

- Soon enough he’s stammering with quivering hands, checking over you, asking if you’re okay. Winters had called a medic after all.

- Can’t stop looking at you, questioning if it’s all a dream, you’d catch him pinching himself. “Don’t do that Gene, I’m right here.” With a small hand on his cheek he can breathe again.

- Holds your hands tightly, the most affection he can show you in front of all the superiors. He’s still extremely tense, in shock from the close call, but he promises to keep an extra close eye on you, and he keeps that promise.

- Kisses your cuts and bruises when nobody’s looking, probably runs his hand over his face in surprise quite a few times, but honestly he’s sooo fucking relieved, like he actually cried when he saw you.

- “I love you so much, ya can’t do that to me again, evuh’.” With his little accent and a serious tone, ugh he’s a sweetie pie.

Joseph Liebgott:

- It happens in Eindhoven out of all the places.

- One minute you’re both celebrating together, with the rest of the company and the whole town and the next you’re not stationed with the rest of the nurses?

- The town gets bombed and barraged by the Germans that evening and he’s watching in pure horror. Recounts of nurses being KIA during the bombing spread real fast, and he refuses to believe what Battalion HQ are telling him.

- He’s shaking his head real fucking fast, denying and denying to all of them and himself.

- Throws a fucking riot- until he has to practically run off to be alone, wrenching and shaking at the idea that have could’ve happened to you.

- His anger and violence stems out of control, Winters removes him off the line real fucking fast, like he becomes a runner or something just for a break.

- Fraternisation is banned under all conditions, but relationships and affairs still take place, even the most superior of officers know that. So sometimes eyes are averted and now is one of those times that people choose to do that and help Liebgott through his grief.

- But 2 days have passed and it’s so raw, everybody’s in shock and disbelief at your lack of presence, for Joe he’s bottling up a painfully bitter feeling and he’s ready to explode.

- He never thought it would happen to you, you’re a nurse for Christ sake! Genuinely has to pause sometimes to just stop- like he can’t take it. Becomes so close to being sent to the aid station until one today he’s attempting to run a letter back to Battallion HQ when he see’s the back of a young woman wrapped in a blazer, overalls looking very familiar to your own.

- His heart genuinely gets shooting pains and he has to swallow the urge to cry as he watches this woman who painfully resembles you. Her khaki headscarf is bloody and he watches as another officer (he assumed from Dog) guides you inside the building.

- In fact he’s about to look away, until this girls head tilt to the side. He only catches a brief glimpse of her profile, Joe has to squint real hard when he feels his stomach drop.

- His mind has to be playing tricks on him so he turns away as the nurse rushes to aid a man on a stretcher.

- Slams the jeep door, literally kicks a dint into it as he storms his way through town. He just wants to deliver these fucking letters as fast as possible.

- “No, no, he’s German. He helped me out of Eindhoven, you must take care of him!”

- Joe’s head snaps just as he’s shoving the letters into some poor guys arms. He freezes, head lifting at the sound of your voice.

- “What the fuck?” He mutters, stepping a little closer. His breathing and heart speeds when he hears your voice again.

- “Sister. Make sure he gets to the infirmary, please… thank you.”

- He’d recognise that voice from anywhere.

- Literally feels like he’s choking when he stomps over, lost for words and breath and grabs hold of your arm.

- With a gasp, you stand there, bloody and bruised and protecting some Kraut soldier.

- You’re about to protest again until you come face to face with Joe, and suddenly your voice gets hitched in your throat, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

- “Joe!” It’s you that jumps into hug him first.

- Joe grips you tightly, “what the hell are you- what the hell are you doin’ here? Baby- y/n, I thought you were dead.”

- He has to pull back and hold your face to take a look at you and make sure it’s actually you.

- You can feel him shaking, and suddenly your attention is just on Joe and Joe only. He’s practically smothering you, not sure where to put his hands as he lets out a shaky breath.

- “Holy fuck I thought I lost you. They said you were gone. I knew you wouldn’t, I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” He gets super emotional so you two have to take a break somewhere real quick.

- By that I mean in the aid station where you’re supposed to be being patched up but Joe does that for the medic.

- “God dammit you are so stupid, you idiot, I thought I lost you.”

- “The German officer saved me Joe, he pulled me outta the rubble.”

- “he what?! Did he touch you, are you ok?”

- “He’s a nice man, Joe. I wouldn’t be here without him. He’s hurt so I got a little lost taking him back to the infirmary.”

- “nice guy? Baby d’ya got a concussion?”

- you scold him a little and soon he’s back to stroking your face and pulling you onto his lap, taking in as much as you as he possibly can.

- “Never leave me baby. Never leave me like that again.”

#band of brothers headcannons #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers imagines #eugene roe x reader

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tojisun · 9 months ago

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sunnyyy!! omg omg okay so idk what you put in your toxic dbf series but im sure its crack cause i know its freaking hurtful but i love it!! ur mind is >>>>>

alsoooo, i have this idea that i plan on writing for miguel but idk where to start SO IM GIVINF IT TO YOUUU!!

so lets call her bunny in this one. say bunny is enough of his shit, won’t let him do her dirty anymore because she refuses to be stupid. she’s no longer cassie howard and moves on to another man. a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to let her know that he wants her. he’ll cherish her, he adores the fuck out of her, he shows her off and he makes a promise to put a ring on her finger,

but simon doesn’t like that. not even one bit. and it ticks him off because why is he like this? why is he so worked up that she finds someone who finally treats her better than she can? yet, he can’t let it go. he lets her know. she has to know.

and so, at two am he comes knocking at her door. flowers in his hand, nicely dressed for the first time to let her know that he’s doing it for her and only her. not erin.

and it takes a lot in her to not slam the door in his face because she’s happy right now,

“you look at him the way i wanted to be looked by you, sweetheart” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and i envy that.”

she stares at him with a deadpan look. not really feeling a single thing anymore, leading him to continue.

“i have no right to say that, i know but—“ he pauses to take a deep breath. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me”

she doesn’t want him to

ANA?? ANA MY LOVE???? THIS MAKES ME VIOLENTLY ILL

thinking about this in the dbf!simon series??? oh but im absolutely sobbing // same timeline as this !!

thinking about how you cry and wail and mourn for the years wasted on simon. thinking about the way you crumple on your bed, curling underneath your sheets, your cries now having been reduced to silent tears—this doesn’t mean you feel any better. instead, you feel even more distraught, upset in a way that feels bigger than yourself.

thinking about the promise you make to yourself. how, when the morning breaks, you will move on. that no matter how painful it may be—and it will be—you will strive to let go of simon. truly and completely this time around.

and that’s what you do. you fall asleep in exhaustion, heart heavy and mind buzzed. in the morning, you blink your eyes open and lay in bed for a few more minutes, suspended above your heartbreak, before it all comes crashing down on you. tears trickle from the corners of your eyes but you stay resolute, strong grip corralling your grief into the corner of your heart, before you get your day going.

you start by throwing everything that reminds you of simon: polaroid pictures and framed photos, shirts and clothes and socks and lingeries, towels and bedsheets, trinkets and accessories from across the globe—little souvenirs he’s brought to appease you.

(in the long haul, many of them were actually donated, while some were sold. but today, as you submerged yourself in your heartache, you dumped everything in a black garbage bag. out of sight, out of mind.)

blocking simon’s number actually turned out to be last. you deleted the pictures you have with simon in your phone prior, and then blocked and deleted his number altogether.

you breathed in deeply once you’re finished and collapsed to your bed again, trying to ignore the bareness of the walls and the emptiness of your room (let alone your heart).

the tears come again—they will come more often than not—and you let them. you open the locked corner of your heart and let the grief out. you mourn for what was lost; for what could’ve been. but most importantly, you mourn for the ways you’ve let yourself be trapped in such an unhappy moment.

moving on comes slowly; it comes so torturously that you thought it would never happen. but it does, and it does so during one quiet afternoon.

on that day, you realize that not once did you think of simon. not once did the memories trickle in to rip you away from the jovial present. and as you stand there in your kitchen, the sounds of the microwave beeps piercing through mutedly, you feel remade.

you feel whole, once again.

simon noticed, of course. he noticed the way your messages stopped coming in, or the way you no longer use your dad as an excuse to meet simon, or the way you just fell off the radar.

simon tried to reach out to you once and realized that you’ve got his number blocked.

it’s whatever, he thinks. because simon has never known you well, has never tried to learn more about you, so he thinks that this—your silent treatment and your detachment—is all a ploy. something like you playing hard-to-get.

so simon doesn’t think much about it until days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months are slowly building up to turn to a year.

simon doesn’t hear from you and, despite all his posturing, he realizes that he’s missed you. so he decides to drive by to pick you up for dinner and maybe apologize for whatever it is now that he’s done.

he gets to your dorm and rings your room. the intercom scratches awake, the person from the other side, your dorm mate he’s sure, asks who it was, and simon tells them his name. then, he tells them that he’s here for you.

there is silence for a while, almost loaded in a way that simon knows it’s not the intercom breaking up, and he gets his answer when he’s given a curt reply of, “she doesn’t want to see you. bye.” there is the distinct screech and then the line drops before simon could even ask why.

and simon feels lost. untethered.

john is a good man. that’s the first thing you realized. it terrified you, at first, how much you looked forward to meeting him. how much of being with him—simon’s friend—makes you happy.

you waited for the other shoe to drop, shoulders perpetually hunched as though that can shield you from the inevitable of john leaving you. of john using you.

but john is so warm. john is so gentle and kind and patient and loving.

john holds your hand and you know he isn’t looking for more. he drops you off at home, tells you to rest well and to say hi to your dorm mates, before taking off on his bike.

john kisses your cheeks and you know he isn’t looking for something more passionate. more heated. and you crave for his touch, yes, but there is something so special in the way john shows his affection—all crinkled smile and quiet chuckles; all whispered words and promises fulfilled; all soft and tender and secure.

it was a love so different, so beautiful, so really it wasn’t surprising at all when your relationship grows, thriving alongside your healing.

(he promised, you know? he promised, as he played with your hand, that he’ll one day put a ring on your finger. your lips wobbled and you told him to stop making loaded promises such as that, but john just turned to you with a soft smile and said, “i look forward to the day we share the same vow, bunny. if you would have me.”

you hiccupped sob and threw your arms over his shoulders, nodding because, “i would. john, i would!”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and sharing warmth with you. you burrowed your head on the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence wash over you.

john, you thought. johnjohnjohn.)

simon drives to you the day after he confronted john. he drives to you with all of his messy heart spilling from the ridges of his ribs, beating only one name—yours.

he’s never felt this way before. not with all the pretty people he’s gone out with, or his first love, or even erin. erin who simon once imagined a future with. erin who simon once loved. not even that could triumph over the expanding turmoil that simon’s basking in.

he calls on the intercom of your dorm again, begs your roommate that may you please hear him out, and then he sees you.

god, you’re just as beautiful as he remembers.

“love–”

“what’re you doing here?”

your words are soft, quiet, but simon isn’t fooled. he sees the anger in your eyes, the hurt having festered into resentment. he wonders how apologies could trickle from his lips—where to even begin?

“please,” you say when simon’s silence stretches on. “just tell me whatever you want and then leave.”

“this. this is what i’m here for. the anger in your eyes– it’s just–…” he breathes in sharply. “i saw you and john, you know? and the way you look at him, it’s how i want to be looked at by you, love.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “i didn’t know what i had until i lost you and i’m so envious of him, i am, so please.”

you stare at him with wide eyes even when your face is smooth of any emotion. simon wonders what you must be thinking but he bulldozes through, hoping that you can give him one last chance.

he promises this time, truly, he’ll be better.

“i have no right to say this, i know, but–” he pauses to take a deep breath, his fists balled tightly. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me.”

a heartbeat passes, and then, “simon, you are a selfish, selfish man.”

your words are barely louder than a whisper but they scratch at simon’s heart. he looks at you, gaze turning desperate when he sees nothing but bubbling fury and disappointment in your own.

“how dare you,” you say. “you tell me that you saw me and john, and then what? instead of letting me go, instead of letting me move on, you come in here and demand that i return to you?”

“love, i–”

“don’t call me that!”

your anger tips over, now spilling out. he watches the way your eyes glisten, tears dripping to stain your cheeks.

“i’m not your anything, si! not anymore!” you take in a ragged rasp of air, choking on your sob. it tugs at simon’s heartstrings and he moves to comfort you but you pull away, sneering at him in your anger. you wipe at your eyes, scrubbing furiously.

“everything about what you’ve said just now, everything, was all about your wants. all about you. just like how it’s always been,” you murmur, the fight leaving you.

you looked small, hunching into yourself, and simon is hit with this feeling; something that lodges itself in his throat.

“lov–… i’m sorry,” he says because he is.

gods he is.

“just go,” you tell him, meeting his eyes for one last time because he knows that this is the end of it all.

you turn away from him then, closing the building door behind you. he watches from behind he glass doors as you disappear into the hallways and stepped into the elevators and, just like that, simon’s lost his chance of making things right.

ANA MY GOD THIS MADE ME FERAL!! i hope u would like this one bb :(( hope i gave ur vision justice

#ana <3 #dbf!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley #john price #ask #suns

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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

Text

and love is a kaleidoscope — gojo satoru.

“I don’t need more than that. Even if it isn't enough, I’ll tell you it's enough.” he said softly, his eyes searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail. “I just… I miss you.” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with the things you both weren’t saying. You wanted to tell him you missed him too, that you hated the distance between you, but the missions, the constant fight—it had become a wall between you, one that you didn’t know how to tear down. “I miss you too.” you finally admitted, your voice small and tired. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

WARNING/S: pre-hidden inventory arc, post hidden inventory arc, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 8.5k words.

NOTE: i feel like every time i ponder if genmei (you) is bisexual or pansexual, i go in the drawing board and think that really doesn't matter. yuki and you go way back, you had something to do with how she managed to get away with not being consumed by tengen. and you were yuki's first love, i supposed. but that's a story for another time. satoru by this point feels like his connection with you matters the most, because he feels secured about his relationship with suguru. but of course, you wonder because there's a difference with how he needs to converse with you vs just going purely with what suguru says. but i suppose that's just how obvious it was, their fracturing relationships. anyway, i hope you enjoy this little treat!!! I love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HAD JUST GOTTEN THE NEWS ON YOUR WAY BACK. The dimly lit infirmary of Tokyo Jujutsu High buzzed with the faint sounds of healing techniques being employed and the distant murmurs of the staff tending to the injured.

The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptics, but it was the sight before you that truly made your heart race—a scene you had dreaded since the moment you heard about the mission. Ieiri Shoko looked at you in the face, with a weary look. You had never seen that look in her eyes before. Your eyes scanned the room and your breath was blown out of you.

Gojo Satoru lay on one of the beds, his usually vibrant expression now dulled by pain. His left arm was heavily bandaged, blood seeping through the cloth, while deep cuts marred his torso. Geto Suguru, just a few feet away, appeared equally battered, his face bruised and swollen, eyes closed as if he were trying to shut out the world around him.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and a wave of panic washed over you. “Satoru–kun! Suguru–kun!” You rushed to their side, your hands trembling as you reached for them. Satoru’s gaze flickered to yours, a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by the pain etched across his features. Suguru’s lips curled slightly in a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, we’re fine… just a little banged up.” Satoru managed, his voice hoarse, but it did little to assuage your fear. You heard that he was stabbed in the throat and that concerned you the most. You could see the blood dried soaking the bandages and the shadows under their eyes. Panic turned into a cold grip around your heart.

“No, you’re not!” You barely managed to keep your voice steady as you felt your chest tighten. “You’re injured! You shouldn’t have gone on that mission at all….This should have been my mission, I told them so….”

“Gen–senpai, we’re….we’re alright.” Suguru whispered, but you can tell that he wasn’t alright. Everything about him was out of place, shaken and beaten. Exhausted. Broken. “Really.”

“You…you don’t have to lie to me, Suguru–kun.”

Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the chaos, the frantic pace of the other healer staff in the room as they worked to clear out the equipment. You turned back to Yaga–sensei, who stood nearby, his expression stoic, but the concern in his eyes mirrored your own. The more you looked at him, the angrier you got. If he had decided to fight against the decision by the higher ups, by Tengen–sama, then maybe….just maybe — he wouldn’t have that look on his face.

“I’m willing to take the next few months of missions for them.” you blurted out, your determination taking Yaga by surprise. Your exhausted eyes lowered. “They can’t go back out there like this. It’s too dangerous. I can handle it; I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Yaga looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “You know the risks of this to you. You’re already doing so much….” he said finally, his voice low and serious. “Principal Gakuganji would be displeased—”

Your eyes looked up and narrowed. “So? He’s always displeased with me and my so-called insolence anyway. Let him get angry.”

“Genmei, if you were serious—”

“I am. I never joke around about things like this. You know that too well.” you insisted, crossing your arms defiantly. “I won’t let them put themselves in danger again while they’re like this. They need to rest and recover.”

As Shoko continued to work on Satoru and another worked on Suguru, you sat down beside them, taking one of Satoru’s hands in yours, squeezing it tightly. “Just hold on, okay? You’ll be alright.”

Satoru’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, and for a moment, the pain seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your presence. “You really worry too much, Gen–senpai.” he said, a small, teasing smirk trying to break through despite the pain. “But I appreciate it.”

Suguru shifted slightly, his eyes fluttering open. “You’re taking the missions?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern. “You shouldn’t have to carry that burden alone, Gen–senpai. That’s not something that you should concern yourself about.”

“I can handle it, Suguru–kun.” you replied firmly, forcing a smile despite the tears threatening to spill over. “You both need to heal. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of while you rest.”

Satoru and Suguru exchanged a glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Then Satoru looked back at you, his expression serious. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? You can’t push yourself too hard either, Gen–senpai.”

“I promise.” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.”

As the medical staff and Shoko continued their work, you stayed by their sides, your heart swelling with a mix of fear and determination. You mouthed a thank you to Shoko, who nodded at you. She didn’t want to talk about it, not yet. But maybe soon. Not everything had to be continued in words. And so silence remained.

YOU WERE GOOD AT NOTICING THINGS. And yet, you didn’t notice this before it was too late. It was subtle at first, so faint that you almost didn’t notice it. The way Satoru would flinch, ever so slightly, when your hand brushed against his.

How Suguru's usually calm and confident demeanor would flicker off with hesitation whenever an argument arose. He would immediately snap and tell you to drop it off. It was small enough to ignore in the beginning, but as the days turned into weeks, the changes became impossible to overlook.

You couldn’t find yourself to come and visit them today, even if you were on campus. As you sat at the edge of your staff room, you sighed as you smoked out your French cigarettes. You had just gotten back from a mission and now you couldn’t fall asleep.

You shrugged as you kept staring at the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the window, the weight of the growing distance between you, Satoru, and Suguru pressing down on your chest like a vice. They were right there, just within reach, but they felt so far away.

Satoru had always been the one who reached out, pulling you into his orbit with his magnetic energy. He was the one who would tug you close without a second thought, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders, his touch playful and comforting. But now… now he barely touched you at all.

You remembered the last time you tried to hold his hand. It was a small gesture, one born out of habit more than anything, but the moment your fingers brushed against his, you felt him pull away. He tried to cover it up, laughing it off with a joke that was too sharp, too brittle. But you saw the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you or how you feel. You knew he did. But something had changed. Something inside him recoiled from physical contact, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it was impossible not to feel the sting of rejection.

Suguru, on the other hand, had always been your anchor, the one who brought calm to the storm. When things went wrong, he was the one who would sit with you, listen to you, face the problem head-on. But now, whenever there was even the slightest hint of conflict, he would retreat, closing himself off from you in ways that were so unlike him.

The last argument you had was over something small—an errand left undone, a moment of miscommunication—but instead of addressing it, Suguru had simply walked away. No discussion, no confrontation. Just silence. And it hurt more than the argument ever could have.

Ieiri Shoko pushes the door to your room open without knocking, her usual nonchalance on full display as she steps inside. The familiar smell of tobacco clings to her, the faint scent of cigarette smoke tracing behind her like a signature. She waves at you, smiling.

"Hey." she greets, tossing a small box of cigarettes on your desk. "Can I have one?"

You glance at her, then at the cigarettes. A brief hesitation flickers through your mind before you shake your head. "Shoko, I can't give you one."

She snickers, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she takes a seat on the edge of your bed. "Yeah? Like you didn't start smoking at my age." She pulls one out for herself, lighting it expertly and inhaling deeply.

You sigh, realizing she’s got you there. The years have passed, but that particular truth hasn't changed. "Fine, fine. Just one." you mutter, reaching over for a cigarette. "But don’t act all smug about it."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the soft crackle of burning tobacco the only sound for a moment. You take a slow drag, letting the smoke swirl lazily in the air between you. You wonder why Shoko was already up — but you knew better than to ask. She probably hasn't slept yet either. Knowing her, she’s studying up for her RCT with some of the other healer focused sorcerers. You sighed. You were in no position to tell her to go back to sleep.

"So... how’s Geto doing?" Shoko asks after a while, her tone casual but with an undertone of concern.

You exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the air as your thoughts drift to him. "He’s... managing. It’s not easy, but we’re working through it. I think he's finding his balance again, little by little. There are still tough days. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don’t. If we do, sometimes he snaps. But no more than usual, I suppose.”

Shoko nods, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Yeah. That makes sense. And Gojo?"

"Satoru–kun…" You pause, unsure of how to summarize the mess of emotions tied to his name. "He’s still overseas, doing his thing. Same old Gojo, honestly. But there's something... I don’t know. I worry about him sometimes."

She blows out a slow stream of smoke, eyes narrowing slightly as she considers your words. "Gojo’s always been hard to read when it comes to his own well-being. He hides it well. Guess that’s why we’re all stuck worrying about him."

"Yeah, I suppose so." you agree softly, feeling a pang of concern settle in your chest. "It's like he carries everything but never really shares the weight."

Shoko chuckles lightly, her cigarette burning low as she stubs it out. "Guess we all have our ways of dealing don’t we? But at least we’ve got each other."

You nod, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the tray. "Yeah... we do."

At least that’s what you hoped.

The more they withdrew, the more you found yourself pulling away, too. It wasn’t what you wanted. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to reach out, to grab hold of them, to bridge the gap that was forming between you. But each time you tried, it felt like you were met with walls that neither of them were willing to break down.

You found yourself spending more time alone, avoiding the spaces where the three of you used to be so comfortable together. The living room, once filled with easy laughter and teasing banter, felt too cold, too empty.

The kitchen, where Satoru used to steal snacks from your plate, now felt like a place of quiet avoidance. Even your bedroom, the sanctuary where you’d all shared late-night talks and quiet moments, seemed foreign now.

And they didn’t seem to notice the way your distance mirrored theirs.

Satoru still cracked his usual jokes, but there was an edge to them that hadn’t been there before. He seemed more focused on keeping up appearances, hiding behind his sarcasm and grin, as if pretending that nothing had changed would make it true. Suguru, too, was quieter, more withdrawn. When you tried to talk to him, really talk to him, his responses were vague, his eyes distant, as if he wasn’t entirely present in the conversation.

It broke something inside you.

You wanted to ask them what was happening. Why Satoru couldn’t stand to be touched anymore, why Suguru avoided confrontation like it was a plague. But every time you opened your mouth to ask, the words got stuck in your throat. You were afraid of what the answer might be. Afraid that acknowledging the growing rift between you would make it real in a way that was irreversible.

So, you stayed silent. You put on a smile when they were around, forced laughter where it didn’t quite fit, and pretended that the distance didn’t hurt as much as it did.

But late at night, when you were alone in bed and the silence was deafening, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest from spreading. The realization that you were becoming a stranger to the two people you loved most in the world was suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, they were slipping away from you.

You knew you couldn’t keep pretending forever. Something had to give. But until then, all you could do was watch the space between you grow wider, feeling more alone with each passing day.

YOU RARELY DRINK NOWADAYS. Not because you can’t, but because you had too many vices already. And it worried your mother a lot, how the alcohol had changed you as a person. You would not give up the cigarette, not yet. But giving up the drink was easy. But there were days where it was hard to keep that promise.

Today was one of these days.

The air was cold and still, the kind of night where even the wind held its breath. The Mikoto family tomb stood silently under the pale light of the moon, a forgotten place tucked away in a corner of Kyoto, where old memories and ancient grudges rested.

You staggered through the entrance, the alcohol heavy in your veins, numbing everything except the ache in your chest. Your breath hitched as you made your way deeper into the tomb, past the grand marble slabs of ancestors long gone, until you reached the place where the weight of your heart seemed heaviest.

Fushiguro Toji.

His name was etched onto the stone beside your father’s, a simple marker for a man who had lived his life in defiance of everything. Of the Zenins, of fate, and of you. The bottle of sake in your hand swayed dangerously as you stopped in front of his grave. The cold stone of the tomb pressed into your back as you collapsed in front of it, your fingers trembling as you poured some of the drink over his grave, a bitter offering.

“You…” your voice cracked, the alcohol giving it a sharp edge. “Why did you have to do the things you did?”

Your chest tightened as you stared at the name on the stone, blurred by your drunken haze, by the tears that you didn’t even realize were already streaming down your face. “You could’ve come to us! You should’ve come to us, Toji. You didn’t have to… you didn’t have to ruin everything.”

Anger boiled in your veins, mixing with the hurt, with the deep sense of betrayal that had festered inside you for so long. Toji had been family, in some strange, fractured way. You looked up to him in your youth. He was the brother you never had. You missed him, you longed for him. He was a missing piece of your family. And yet he decided that he didn’t want to have that.

He could have sought refuge, he could have swallowed his pride, but instead, he had walked a path of destruction, dragging everything and everyone down with him.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” you demanded, your voice rising as you clenched the bottle tighter. “You knew the Zenins were trash. Us who left, we were all we had! You knew! My father—he would have helped you. He would have protected you, taken you in. You….you were like a son to him. You knew that! We could have given you a real home, a place where you didn’t have to keep fighting… but no. You had to—” Your words broke off into a sob, your breath ragged as the weight of your pain crushed your chest.

You leaned forward, your forehead resting against the cold stone of his grave. The anger was still there, burning beneath the surface, but now, all you could feel was the deep, aching sense of loss. “Why did you choose pride over everything else? Why, Toji–niisama? Was it really worth it? All the blood, all the pain…”

The tears fell freely now, soaking into the ground beneath you. You had carried this hurt for so long, this question that you had never been able to ask him in life. Why couldn’t he have trusted you, trusted your family? Why had he chosen the hard path, the one that left him broken and alone, when he could have had something better?

You slammed the bottle against the stone, your frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, you fool!” you cried, the sound echoing through the tomb. “You could have had a family! You could have been safe. Your…your kid would have been fine with you and us!”

But he hadn’t. And now, he lay here, next to your father, in a cold, silent grave, while you were left standing in the wreckage of the life he had refused.

The alcohol had stripped away your composure, leaving nothing but the raw hurt, the years of wondering what could have been, if only he had been able to put aside that stubborn, destructive pride. Your voice was quieter now, trembling.

“Why couldn’t you let go of your pride? Why couldn’t you come to us?”

The tomb was silent, offering no answers, no closure. Only the stillness of the dead.

You wiped the tears from your face with the back of your hand, but it didn’t matter. They just kept falling, spilling out all the hurt, the anger, the love that had been twisted into something unrecognizable over the years. Toji’s grave remained still, his choices set in stone, and you were left there, alone with the weight of it all.

“I could have saved you, nii–sama.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We could have saved you.”

But it was too late. The man who had stood tall and unbreakable in his pride was now buried, his name carved into the stone, the answers to your questions buried with him.

TSUKUMO YUKI’S OVERABUNDANCE OF MESSAGES WERE QUITE TOO MUCH. But the more you ignore her, the more’s going to go and continue her cheeky messaging. So the moment she sent you her location, you went there as you finished your mission. You can file the report tomorrow, you supposed.

The pulsating rhythm of the music hit you like a physical force the moment you stepped into the nightclub, lights flashing in dizzying colors, shadows shifting in every corner of the packed space. The beat was loud, relentless, but it did nothing to shake the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin.

After three months of endless missions, your body had moved beyond exhaustion into a state of numbness. Sleep was a distant memory, buried under the weight of six missions a day, the faces of cursed spirits, and the suffocating silence that followed each exorcism.

You stumbled toward the bar, the world blurring slightly around the edges. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of being completely, utterly alone despite the crowd. The bartender shot you a glance, but you waved them off, searching for the one familiar face you were here for.

Tsukumo Yuki.

It didn’t take long to spot her—leaning casually against the bar, her golden hair catching the light as she turned her gaze toward you. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as you approached. But behind her usual teasing expression, you could see something else—concern, perhaps, or something heavier that she wasn’t showing.

“You look like hell, Mei-chi.” Yuki remarked, her voice cutting through the noise as you finally collapsed onto the stool next to her. She grinned. “I thought you would dress up for me.”

She’s called you Mei–chi for a long time, maybe longer than you could remember. Kaiko kept telling her off about it. But you just let her be. She called you her ‘light’ after all. She ordered you both drinks without asking, sliding one toward you. You ignored it for now, instead fixing her with a tired look.

“I just came from a mission, Yuki.” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “Or five. I don’t even know anymore.” The words came out slurred with fatigue. “I can’t dress up for you, sorry.”

“Yeah, I heard, you know?” she said, her smirk softening into something more serious. She leaned closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “That’s why I’m here.”

You frowned, blinking at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m worried about you. Well, I always worry about you, Mei-chi.” Yuki said simply, her bright pinkish–doe eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’ve been hearing things—how you’ve been taking on six missions a day, running yourself ragged all over Japan. You haven’t slept properly in months, have you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yuki, seriously, this is—”

She cut you off with a shake of her head. “I’m not here to lecture you, Mei-chi. I just wanted to see you. That’s enough to halt my research for a bit. You’re more than enough reason, always.”

The weight of her words hit you harder than expected. You had always known Yuki to be focused, obsessed even, with her goals and research. But to hear that she had paused all of it just to check on you—it made something tighten in your chest. You purse your lips into a flat line, your eyes not leaving her own.

“I’m fine, Yuki.” you said, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow. You took a long swig of the drink she had ordered for you, the alcohol burning its way down your throat. The lie lingered in the air between you, and Yuki didn’t bother trying to hide the disbelief in her eyes.

“Are you? Or are you just going to lie to me again through your teeth?” she asked quietly, her hand still resting on your arm, warm and steady against your skin. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re anything but fine.”

Her words cracked something open inside you. The exhaustion, the relentless pressure you had been putting on yourself, the weight of every curse exorcized, every mission completed—all of it felt like it was crashing down on you at once. And now, here she was, this person who always seemed so untouchable, so above the chaos, sitting next to you and telling you that she cared.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you looked up at her, meeting her gaze head-on. The alcohol was starting to hit, your mind fuzzier, but her presence was clear, grounded, like a tether in the storm of your exhaustion.

“Because I care about you the most.” Yuki replied, with no hesitation in her voice. The sincerity in her words made your chest tighten, your throat constrict with emotions you weren’t ready to face. Her hand slid from your arm to your hand, squeezing it gently. “But don’t you know that already? Or do you need a reminder?”

You stared at her, the noise of the club fading into the background as her words hung between you. You wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, you took another long drink, the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of everything inside you. It was easier that way, easier to drown it all out, to let the numbness spread.

Yuki stayed by your side, patient, her eyes never leaving you. She didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, she was just… there. And for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to lean into that presence, to let someone else carry a bit of the weight you’d been holding onto.

“I appreciate it. You should know that.” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the music. “I really do.”

Yuki smiled softly, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I know.”

Drink after drink, you let yourself sink deeper into the warmth of the alcohol, into the comfort of her presence. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, the distance between you two vanished. The lines blurred, and before you knew it, your lips were on hers.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if you were both testing the waters, but then something broke open between you, a flood of pent-up emotions, exhaustion, and longing. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the world around you ceased to exist.

You didn’t remember how you got back to the hotel. Everything was a blur of heat and tangled limbs, of whispered names and shared breaths. It was a desperate need to forget, to feel, to lose yourself in something—someone that wasn’t the constant burden of your responsibilities.

When you woke the next morning, the early light creeping through the window, you found yourself in bed beside Yuki, her golden hair spread across the pillow. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of last night sinking in.

You hadn’t planned for this. You hadn’t expected it. But somehow, in the quiet hours of the night, you had found something you hadn’t realized you were looking for.

Yuki stirred beside you, her eyes fluttering open as she turned to look at you. There was no regret in her gaze, only quiet understanding.

“Morning.” she murmured, her voice still soft with sleep.

“Morning.” you replied, your voice rough but steadier than it had been in a long time.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe.

WHEN YUKI LEFT, YOUR LIFE RETURNED TO ITS DAILY PATTERN. The quiet of your apartment in Kyoto was a rare luxury, a silence you had grown unaccustomed to after months of constant missions.

It was one of those rare days off, but even then, you couldn’t relax. Your mind was still racing, still thinking ahead to the next mission, the next cursed spirit that needed to be exorcized. The dim light filtering through the curtains gave the space a muted, almost serene feel, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside you.

The soft knock at the door startled you, breaking the quiet. You sighed, already knowing who it was before you even opened the door. When you did, there he stood—Satoru Gojo, leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk in place, but his cerulean eyes told a different story, something more subdued, something that softened his usual bravado.

“Hey.” Satoru greeted, his tone lighter than his eyes. “I’m glad to finally see you.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway, your eyes narrowing slightly. “You should go home, Satoru–kun.” you said quietly, your voice devoid of its usual warmth. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He tilted his head, not moving from where he stood. “I could go home, that’s true.” he admitted, shrugging. “But I wanted to see you. I’m staying here, just so I can spend time with you.” He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his presence instantly filling the space as if he belonged there.

You sighed again, closing the door behind him. “You only have a few minutes, then.” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I have to leave. There’s another mission soon.”

Satoru’s expression faltered, but only for a moment before he plastered on another playful grin. “A few minutes, huh? Well, I’ll take what I can get.”

He wandered around your apartment as if inspecting it. It changed the last time since he visited. But you were quite certain that he knew that already. He just doesn’t care about it now.His gaze kept drifting back to you, his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, but you could sense the tension just beneath the surface.

You sat down on the couch, folding your arms over your chest, trying to put some distance between you. “You know I’m not in the mood for this, Satoru–kun.” you muttered, not meeting his gaze. “You should be resting, not chasing after me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest, Gen–senpai.” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. He took a seat beside you, not too close, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. “Maybe I just want to see you. It’s been… a while.”

Your heart clenched at his words. He wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since you had seen each other, since you had shared any real time together. You had both been buried in missions, in responsibilities that seemed never-ending. And now, even when you had a sliver of time, you were already thinking about leaving again.

“Satoru–kun…..” you began, your voice wavering, “I don’t have time for this. For us. At least right now. You know that.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stared at you, his usual cockiness replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. “I know you’ve been busy.” he said slowly, looking you in the eyes deeper. “And I know I’ve been… distant. But I’m here now.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve starting to crack under his gaze. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, seemed a little dimmer now, weighed down by the same exhaustion you felt. You wanted to tell him to leave, to walk away and forget about whatever this was, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you looked away, your hands tightening into fists in your lap. “A few minutes. Just….a little bit more, okay?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours, a touch so fleeting it almost wasn’t there. But it was enough to make you freeze, to make you feel the ache in your chest that you had been trying so hard to ignore. He didn’t push, didn’t try to hold on. He just let his hand linger for a second before pulling back.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with the things you both weren’t saying. You wanted to tell him you missed him too, that you hated the distance between you, but the missions, the constant fight—it had become a wall between you, one that you didn’t know how to tear down.

“I miss you too.” you finally admitted, your voice small and tired. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Satoru’s smile was sad, a rare expression on his usually carefree face. “I know it doesn’t. But for now… can stay here for a little more? Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t push him away either. The two of you stared at each other in silence, the sound of the ticking clock the only thing filling the space between you. The weight of your responsibilities still loomed large, but for a brief moment, in the quiet of your apartment, you allowed yourself to forget.

Just for a few minutes.

The soft clink of your lighter echoed in the quiet room, breaking the stillness as you lit a cigarette and took a slow drag. The smoke curled lazily into the air, swirling around you in a haze as you moved around, packing some essentials into a worn duffel bag. The apartment felt heavier these days, the walls somehow closer, as if the weight of everything that had happened had pressed in on you both.

Satoru was back. He was healed, physically at least, but something in him had changed. He had grown quieter, more serious. The once carefree, arrogant smirk that used to greet you was replaced by a grim focus. His obsession with Jujutsu had deepened, consuming him in a way that was hard to watch.

He stood by the window, his back to you, his posture tense. His gaze was distant, fixed on some point far beyond the cityscape, lost in thoughts you couldn’t reach. It had been like this for weeks now— Gojo Satoru in the same room but feeling a thousand miles away.

You took another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before slowly exhaling. The bitter taste grounded you, kept you awake, kept you from getting lost in the same fog that had swallowed him.

“I don’t like seeing you smoke, Gen–senpai.” Satoru’s voice cut through the silence, soft but firm. He hadn’t moved, still staring out at the city, but you could feel the weight of his words. “It’s bad for you.”

You glanced over at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “It keeps me up…..you know that.” you muttered, flicking the ash off into the tray beside you. You didn’t want to get into this—not now. Not after everything.

He finally turned to face you, his pale blue eyes catching the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses sat perched on his nose, shielding his gaze, but you knew he was watching you closely. “Just do coffee jelly, like you used to.”

You smiled at him softly. “It’s not enough, Satoru–kun.”

In a few quick strides, Satoru closed the distance between you. His fingers wrapped gently around the cigarette in your hand, not pulling it away, just holding it there, his touch light but firm. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, and you glanced up at him, meeting his gaze.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Satoru removed his glasses, setting them aside. His bright blue eyes were clear now, piercing, full of a raw emotion he had been hiding behind his usual aloofness.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice quieter than before, but more real, more vulnerable. “I’m sorry I ignored you. That won’t happen again.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the tension between you heavy and thick, the smell of smoke still hanging in the air. His apology hung there, an unspoken plea behind it. It wasn’t just about the cigarette. It was about the distance, the silence, the way he had shut you out.

You sighed, long and heavy, and without a word, you crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. The glowing ember dimmed and died out as you turned away from him, continuing to pack your things.

“I just needed time.” Satoru continued, his voice soft but insistent. “I’m trying to figure everything out, but I know I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have.”

You paused, your hands stilling over the bag, but you didn’t turn to face him. “You’ve changed.” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re different now. Obsessed.”

“I know, I know.” he admitted, his voice steady but lined with exhaustion. “I have to be. Jujutsu… it’s all I have left to keep this world in check. If I’m not strong enough, who else will be?”

You closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm the swirl of frustration in your chest. “You don’t have to do it alone, Satoru–kun.”

“I know that too.” His voice softened, and you could hear him moving closer, his presence a warm but overwhelming force behind you. “But I don’t want to lose anyone else. Not Suguru….Not you. Especially not you.”

His words cracked something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you turned to face him, your eyes locking onto his. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you weren’t saying.

Satoru’s gaze softened, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between you. His hand brushed against your arm, a touch that was meant to be reassuring, grounding, but instead, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I won’t ignore you again, don’t worry.” he repeated, his voice a low promise. “I can’t afford to.”

You sighed, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. “Just… don’t lose yourself, Satoru–kun.”

He nodded, his expression still serious but with a flicker of his old self breaking through. “I’ll try.”

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe him. Just for now, just for this moment. You couldn’t predict what would happen next, but for now, at least, he was here. With you.

The quiet stretched between you like a chasm, uncomfortably familiar in the way it pressed on the spaces that once held laughter and ease. Satoru stood there, looking at you with a mix of uncertainty and something else you couldn’t quite place. The tension, though subtle, hung heavily in the air.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if the answer could break whatever fragile connection remained between you.

You looked at him for a long moment before shaking your head. “No, I’m not mad.”

His gaze softened, but you could see the hint of relief flicker in his eyes. He always feared the worst in moments like this, despite the bravado he carried like armor. “Good,” he breathed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“But….” you continued, your tone steady but carrying the weight of unspoken expectations, “I just hoped for more from you.”

Satoru didn’t flinch at your words, but his face hardened just a fraction. He stood there, absorbing what you said, before giving you a slight nod. “I know.” he said quietly. There was no argument, no defense, just a simple acknowledgment.

You sighed, looking down at the floor, the quiet filling the room once again. You weren’t angry, not really. Just… disappointed. You had always seen Satoru as something more, something larger than life, someone who could shoulder the weight of the world and still be the person you needed him to be. But the cracks were showing, and they were starting to feel too deep to ignore.

“I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Your mind wandered to Suguru, to the growing distance you had sensed between him and Satoru. Something was off. You didn’t know what exactly, but you felt it. And it made you feel like you were on the outside, unable to help either of them.

“Have you talked to Suguru?” you asked suddenly, your voice sharper than you intended. “Asked if he’s really fine?”

Satoru’s expression shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Suguru’s fine, you know that.” he said, his tone dismissive, as if the question itself was unnecessary. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

You frowned, your stomach twisting at his nonchalance. “Are you sure?” you asked quietly, searching his face for any sign that he might understand what you were getting at. But Satoru just shrugged, his easy confidence never wavering.

“I’ve seen him. He’s fine.” he repeated, this time with more certainty. “Just exhausted, you know? He’s back to his missions.”

But you weren’t convinced. Something in Geto Suguru had been different lately, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was the way he avoided certain conversations, or how his smiles didn’t reach his eyes anymore. Whatever it was, you knew it wasn’t as simple as Satoru made it out to be.

You looked at Satoru, feeling the weight of the silence between you again. You weren’t sure what to say. How could you explain what you felt without sounding like you were imagining things? And yet, the growing distance between all of you gnawed at your gut like an ever-present ache.

Instead of pushing further, you just sighed and shook your head. “I hope you’re right.”

Satoru watched you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face as if trying to figure out what you weren’t saying. But he didn’t push, didn’t press you for more.

For a moment, the tension between you and Satoru lingered, a thin thread that neither of you seemed willing to cut. He stood there, quiet but expectant, as if waiting for you to say something to fill the silence. You glanced at him, then back down at your bag, your hands absentmindedly fidgeting with the zipper.

Everything about this, it was like a kaleidoscope. A pandemonium of colors, colors you see and don’t want to see all at once. It was just that way, you supposed. Your world, it is more colorful with all these colors in it. And slowly, you were just waiting, Waiting to find out more. To see more. To reach for it.

“Maybe you should ask Suguru if he wants to come eat with us sometime. Shoko too. I heard….her RCT teacher is brutal with work. We can relax together.” you said softly, breaking the silence. The thought had been nagging at you for a while now, ever since you’d heard the rumors—both of them skipping meals, barely taking care of themselves. “I’ve heard neither of you are eating much lately. You and Suguru.”

Satoru’s expression shifted, a small frown creasing his brow. He didn’t deny it, didn’t argue, just let your words hang there for a moment before giving a slight nod. “Suguru’s… he’s been busy.” he murmured, his voice distant, as if there was more to the story than he was willing to admit.

“Busy or not, tell him to come. I can cook and….” you continued. “you both need to eat. My day off is tomorrow, so I’ll cook zaru soba.” You glanced at him, gauging his reaction before adding with a small, lazy smile, “And I’ll bake cookies too.”

Satoru’s frown eased, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw a hint of the old Satoru—the one who’d light up at the mention of food, especially if you were the one cooking. He loosened up, his posture relaxing slightly as the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, genuine smile.

“I missed you/” he admitted, his voice soft but sincere. There was a vulnerability in his words that made your heart ache. He had always been good at hiding behind jokes and bravado, but in moments like this, the cracks showed, and you could see the real Satoru underneath.

You sighed, the sound heavy but not without warmth. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you reached for the cigarette you’d left in the ashtray. You put it between your lips, not lighting it this time, just holding it there as you looked at him.

“I missed you too, Satoru.” you said, your voice quiet but filled with an honesty you hadn’t allowed yourself to express until now.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes softening as the tension between you both seemed to dissolve, if only for now. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with something else, something familiar and comforting.

Satoru stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the lighter you had set aside. For a brief moment, his fingers lingered on yours, a small gesture that spoke louder than words. You didn’t pull away.

“We’ll talk to Suguru. Shoko’s pretty easy to convince.” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “And… I’d like that. The soba and the cookies.”

You smiled around the unlit cigarette, feeling the weight on your chest lift, just a little. “Good.”

As you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, the familiar weight of another mission ahead pressed on you. You glanced at Satoru, who was still lingering by the door, watching your every move. There was something in his eyes—playful, yes, but tinged with something deeper, something almost like reluctance to let you go.

“You heading out already?” he asked, his tone casual, but you could hear the disappointment beneath it.

“Yeah…The sooner I finish, the faster I can go home. I can buy the ingredients for tomorrow in the morning too.” you replied, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Satoru shifted from one foot to the other, hesitating for just a moment before blurting out, “I’ll tag along.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “No, you won’t.”

But Satoru, in typical fashion, wasn’t ready to take no for an answer. He pouted dramatically, crossing his arms as if you had just denied him his favorite treat.

“Why not? I wanna come. I’ll even take pictures and send them to Suguru and Shoko.” he added with a childish grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Gonna make them jealous.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” You tried to hide the amused smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Satoru could see through it.

“Insufferable? Me?!” he gasped theatrically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “I just missed you,” he whined, his voice taking on that exaggerated, almost comically tearful tone that he often used when he didn’t get his way. “Is that so wrong?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you made your way toward the door. “You’re such a child, Satoru–kun.”

“And you love it!” he called after you, his grin widening. He trotted after you like an eager puppy, his energy somehow never fading, even after everything the two of you had been through.

You stopped at the doorway, turning to look at him one more time. He stood there, still pouting, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something vulnerable beneath all that playfulness. You sighed, shaking your head as you smiled lazily.

“Go home, Satoru–kun.” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth that betrayed your words.

But even as you stepped out the door, you could hear him calling after you, still determined, still wanting to be near you, as if afraid to let you slip away again. And despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter how much you resisted, Satoru would always find a way to stay close.

epilogue

It was one of those rare weekday afternoons when the world seemed to slow down, a precious day off for Satoru that he intended to make special.

While you were out picking up Megumi and Tsumiki from school, he had taken it upon himself to surprise you by cleaning your office. With Satoshi strapped snugly in a baby carrier on his chest, Satoru moved about the space, a little clumsily, as he picked up stray papers and tidied up the scattered toys that somehow always found their way there.

As he cleaned, he noticed a drawer slightly ajar and, out of curiosity, pulled it open. Inside lay a treasure trove of memories—old photographs that instantly transported him back in time. He reached for a stack, and as he did, Satoshi, fascinated by the colors and shapes of the pictures, began reaching for them with tiny, eager hands.

“Hey, little guy, not so fast!” Satoru chuckled, stumbling slightly as Satoshi’s excitement threw him off balance. In his haste to keep the baby from pulling the pictures out of his hands, he ended up dropping a few, and they scattered across the floor.

One photo landed face-up, capturing a younger version of you, Suguru, and Shoko, all grinning wide and carefree, the sunlight casting a golden hue over the moment. Another showed a laughing Kaiko and Namie, arms thrown around your shoulders. Satoru felt a warmth spread through him as he admired the faces of your past, each picture telling a story of friendship and laughter.

As he knelt down to gather them, he couldn’t help but smile at the nostalgia. “How nostalgic youth is, hm?” he mused aloud, glancing at Satoshi, who cooed in response, as if he understood the sentiment. “Glad you agree, little dawn.”

Just then, the sound of the front door creaking open signaled Megumi and Tsumiki’s return. They came bounding in, backpacks slung over their shoulders, chatting excitedly about their day. When they spotted Satoru on the floor surrounded by pictures, they exchanged curious glances.

“What are those?” Tsumiki asked, peering over at the scattered photos.

You entered just in time to hear her question, a smile blooming on your face as you knelt beside Satoru. “These are some old pictures!” you explained, picking one up to show them. “This is me with some of my friends.” You pointed at the smiling faces in the photo, watching as your children leaned in closer to get a better look. “Then me and Satoru with everyone we love.”

Megumi studied the picture intently. “You all look so young then,” he remarked, a hint of surprise in his voice. “And happy.”

“Yeah, we were.” you said, your voice warm with fond memories. “We had some good times back then.”

As you sorted through the photos, Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but beam with pride, watching you share your past with the kids. You pointed out Kaiko and Namie in another picture, explaining who they were and how you had all met. The joy in your voice was infectious, and he felt a swell of happiness just being there, part of this moment.

“Wow, you were cool back then, too!” Tsumiki teased, giggling as she spotted a particularly silly pose you’d struck in one of the photos.

Satoru joined in on the laughter, his heart swelling with love for the life you had built together. “I’d say you’ve only gotten cooler.” he said, giving you a playful nudge. “And to think I get to be here for all of it.”

Megumi snickered. “You’re still as lame as back then.”

“HUH!? Megumi! You think of your dad as lame!? LAME!? Darling! Our son thinks I’m lame!”

You laughed. “But….Isn’t that the truth, Satoru?”

“That’s not true at all!” Your husband decried, pouting heavily in response. “I can’t believe it, even you?”

“You make it easy for me to think that way, dear.”

“Now that’s just flat out rude!”

“Gen–san, where was this?” Tsumiki excitedly asked. “Isn’t this a theme park?”

“Ohhhh, that’s the first time we brought Satoru to Parque España! Satoru, didn’t you cry at how you got to ride the Pyrenees?”

“It was terrifying, you knew that!” He blushed, recalling the memory.

Megumi blinked and then grinned. “Gen–san, tell us more!”

“Okay, okay~”

“Darling, don’t tell the kids about my uncool moments!”

With the excitement turning to you telling stories about the pictures, Your son Satoshi wanted to go eat some snacks — so Satoru went to the kitchen with him. Satoshi was gurgling happily in the carrier, Satoru felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

Moments like this, no matter how rare or brief, just surrounded by family, reminiscing about the past, and sharing laughter—were everything he could have ever wanted. In the warmth of your smiles and the joy of your children, he found a sense of belonging that filled his heart to the brim.

“Life is pretty great, don’t you think?” he said softly, catching Satoshi’s eye and sharing a smile that spoke volumes. Satoshi giggled. “Hm, I’m glad you think so too, little dawn. We’ll have more and more!”

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